"By golly," he was heard to say as The Cougar was hazed into the saddling shute, "I've come a long ways to get a setting at that pony." He felt of his taped spurs to make sure they was there to stay, "and if you watch close," he went on, grinning, "I'll give you all a few lessons on how to play a tune with a spur rowel at the tip of a pony's ears."
The little "vaquero"[6] was feeling good, he hadn't been to town for a year or more, and a chance to ride a mean horse where there was folks around was a big change to him; barrel cactus and Spanish dagger had been the only witnesses to his riding ability, and riding a side-winding pony on dobie flats or high mesas wasn't so apt to bring out the best in a rider as when in a nice arena where there's a band playing and folks a cheering.
"There's a horse to my liking," he says as he took a look at The Cougar. The way that pony was acting while being saddled didn't faze the rider none at all, the grin on his face kept a spreading all the wider as he made ready to climb the chute; he'd handled many a fighting horse, and to him they all could do only one thing, and that was their worst.
As a true rider of the range he welcomed anything that'd test his skill and ability, and if The Cougar had come straight up from hell, wore horns, a forked tail, and cloven hoof, he'd of grinned all the more and bet his year's earnings that he could send him back to where he came with his tail between his legs and hollering "enough."
"Rider up," hollered the hazer, but the judges was already watching, for it was The Cougar "coming out."
The cowboy let out a war whoop and grinned as the chute gate flew open and The Cougar came "uncorked," he packed that grin past the judges and at the same time "reefed" (spurred) the earth jarring outlaw with taped rowels from back of the ear to the back of the saddle skirts.
"Yee-e-e-ep!" he howled, as the bellering Cougar left the earth once more. A cloud of dust went up which kept the judges from seeing what went on, but even if there'd been no dust they couldn't of followed what all had happened, it had happened too fast. In the next particle of time a twisting hunk of mouse colored horse flesh was tearing up the arena towards the chutes and the fence along it. The cowboy was still war whooping and fanning but he was to one side and being snapped around like a whip lash. The Cougar had found his stride and, as usual, was getting his man.
The "pick up men" rode up to grab holt of the horse's head and before the man was throwed, but they was just too late and in another second something happened that made everybody in the grandstand turn pale and hang on to each other, for the cowboy, still a fanning, was, by a wicked jolt, loosened from his saddle and headed for the ground. The Cougar reared up while the rider was still in the air, then turned, and with ears back, teeth a flashing, hoofs a striking with lightning speed, went to carry out his heart's cravings.
