"I rode him."
But long before middle summer come, them hopes had died down in many of the boys, for The Cougar wasn't The Cougar no more. Them fast, crooked, and hard hitting jumps of his, and which had jarred the thoughts and balance out of so many a good rider, had died down, and put the horse as an average with the other bucking horses. Rider after rider forked him, and sorta disappointed, had rode and fanned him easy enough, where a year or so before no fanning had been required to qualify.
The Cougar kept a bucking on and on every time he was saddled, and he was rode thru to the finish oftener and oftener till finally, no rider was ever throwed no more, not from that pony's back.
The heart of The Cougar was shriveling up and leaving space for the heart that was Smoky's, and that heart, even tho older and weaker was making a mighty strong stand, and steady coming back.
Soon, there came a time when the mouse colored outlaw didn't have to be handled from a distance no more; no high corral was needed for protection against his teeth and hoofs, and like most of the other buckers he could be led from the stock car to the rodeo grounds without any other ropes holding him back, and away from the man that was leading him.
Then one day, a rider brought in a big raw-boned grey, remarking that "here was an outlaw," and an outlaw he was, sure enough. From his Roman nose on up to his sunk, dead looking eyes, and taking in his lantern jaws on to his thick neck and along with the rest of him, all indicated the natural outlaw, but what made him as a most valuable horse for the rodeos, was in the how he could buck; that's all he knowed, and like all natural outlaws that way, that's all he wanted to know.
Right away, he was called "The Grey Cougar," the same as to try and bring back the real Cougar. But there was no comparing the grey outlaw with The Cougar, not when that last one had meant business. To begin with, the grey horse was mean only because it was his natural instinct to be that way, he didn't have the special ambition nor the brains that The Cougar had. With the grey it was just jug headed orneriness, and in no way could he compete with the mouse colored man killer, but he made a fine outlaw just the same, a second best that'd do.
He managed to buck a few men off from the start, and right then is when the Old Cougar begin sliding into the background, for it'd been quite a spell since that pony had made a man ride for his money.—The appearance of the grey outlaw had kinda marked the downhill start for Smoky's career as a bucking horse, and then one day the end came sure enough, and in a few minutes.
As usual, The Cougar was announced to the crowd, and them in the grandstand who'd often heard but never seen that wicked pony in action was naturally mighty interested as that notorious horse made his appearance in the saddling chute. Many in the crowd had seen him buck before, and some of them stopped breathing for a spell and while the gate was opened, most anything was expected, from that horse, and all of them that looked on felt sure of seeing something that'd come up to their expectations, and then some.
The gate was opened, and out came a streak of a mouse colored horse with a cowboy on top, and The Cougar, that famous outlaw, lined out acrost the ground on a long lope.