Then Smasher reared himself upon his hind legs; he bit and plunged, and he kicked; he whirled around in a circle; he flung himself on the sawdust and rolled about the ring.
At this last move Texas had slipped off quick as lightning and stood calmly by, still holding the reins and yelling at the pony. The pony struggled to his feet again; while he was still on his knees Texas had thrown himself on his back and was once more kicking and shouting:
“Git up, thar, you vile critter, you! Git up, thar!”
Smasher got, and he started around that ring at breakneck speed, tossing his head and plunging, his body leaning at an angle of thirty degrees and the sawdust flying in clouds. Around and around he went. Smithers was staring in horror, the crowd was roaring with delight, and as for Texas, he was waving his hat and shouting triumphantly.
“Get up, thar, you ole Smasher! I’ll smash you! That the fastest you kin go? Whoop!”
Smasher tried a little faster yet, until the crowd got dizzy watching him. Then he tried one last resort more, stopped short as if he’d hit a stone wall. Texas simply clung and then gave him a whack that set him off for dear life again. Texas knew that he’d conquered then.
“Wow!” he roared. “Got any more ov ’em to break? Ain’t had so much fun in a year! Whoop! You circus folks think you kin ride, don’t you? I’ll show ye something!”
Suiting the action to the word, Texas, still lashing the horse to keep him going and still roaring to keep him straight, got upon his knees and then on his feet. Having stood on one leg for a couple of turns he dropped the reins turned over and flung his heels into the air. After that he dropped his hat and swept it up on the next turn around. Then seizing hold of the horse’s mane, he slid under his belly and a moment later appeared on the other side, and jerked himself up, Smasher meanwhile going at railroad speed. Nobody in the crowd saw how he did it, but they roared with delight all the same, and Smithers gritted his teeth with rage.
But Texas was by no means through yet. All his cowboy ingenuity had gone into the task of thinking up a suitable punishment for “that fresh circus feller” who had ventured to insult the nationality of cowboys. And Texas was getting ready to put a scheme into practice, while he still thumped merrily on the ribs of the dizzy bronco. He was fumbling about the pockets of his voluminous trousers, and suddenly the crowd, divining his intentions, let out a roar of delight.
“He’s got a lasso!”