The golden west boys, "Injun" and "Whitey": a story of adventure

by William S. Hart

It must not be understood that Whitey was a "poor loser"—such was far from the truth. Defeat did not make him "sore" and engender hatred in him; it only made him try the harder. He was always the first to congratulate his successful rival, and to make up his mind that he would strive to equal or excel his rival's performance. In this instance, however, he realized that he was "playing Injun's own game"; and maybe, if Injun played some of Whitey's games, he would not come off any better than Whitey had at Injun's.

It was several days before the stiffness from riding began to leave Whitey's muscles and they assumed their usual elasticity; but he had stuck to his saddle during that time, and gradually the soreness began to wear away. He also had acquired confidence and a knowledge of his horse, the sorrel, which he had named Monty, and Monty had begun to know him. This is a necessity for really finished or satisfactory riding; and, on the advice of Bill Jordan, Whitey assumed entire charge of the horse, grooming and feeding and watering him, and ingratiating himself into Monty's confidence and affection in every way that he could until he had established an understanding between them.

"Ef yo' an' that sorrel gets to be pals," said Bill, "Yo' hes gone a long ways toward bein' a rider. Team-work counts for a heap in that game!"

And so, although it would be a long time before Whitey and Monty could ever hope to rival Injun and his pinto, yet, for all practical purposes, Whitey became a fair horseman, and the pair made a good combination. He even had aspirations toward riding one of the bucking bronchos that the boys broke in the corral; but Bill Jordan put a veto on this, and said that there would be "plenty of time for thet stuff when funeral expenses ain't so high!"

On most of his excursions out into the prairie, Injun accompanied him, and seldom did the two boys come back to the ranch without a race. At first Injun won regularly; but as Whitey learned to ride, he gradually shortened the distance by which he and Monty were the losers, until it became nip and tuck, and finally Whitey and Monty had won two heats in succession.

On the third day, as they came in neck and neck, the two boys rode so close together that they could touch each other; and before they knew it, were indulging in that most hazardous and difficult game, wrestling on horse-back. Injun, who was literally part of the horse, finally succeeded in unseating Whitey, and the latter hit the ground with a thump.

Whitey picked himself up, and grinning, said, "Injun, you might throw me when we're on our horses, but you couldn't do it on the ground!"

Injun slipped from his pinto, laid aside his bow and arrows and his hunting-knife, and accepted the challenge without hesitation: "Me 'rassle," he said, and began to slip around Whitey with a gliding and panther-like motion, looking for a hold. Whitey faced him alertly, and for a moment nothing else happened. Bill Jordan and several of the boys watched the contest from the fence of the corral. Suddenly, Injun darted in with the swiftness of a rattlesnake making a strike, and secured a hold on Whitey's leg, coming within an ace of upsetting him. But Whitey was not to be upset so easily; he seized Injun's arm with one hand, and putting his forearm under Injun's chin, forced his head back; and exerting his thigh-muscles, he broke Injun's hold on his leg. Quickly shifting his hold from Injun's arm, and slipping his other arm beneath Injun's, he secured what boys call "an under-hold"; and then, half turning, he threw Injun over his hip to the ground, heavily.

But Whitey came down, too, although he was on top; for Injun had locked his arms about Whitey's neck and held on with a grip like a vise. They were locked in this way for perhaps two minutes, but Whitey knew that it was only a matter of time when he could break this hold, and he was in no hurry. At the slightest relaxation of the pressure that Injun was putting on, he could get one of his hands under Injun's arms, or he could twist out. He felt, at first contact that he was stronger than Injun and a good deal heavier, and these are two big assets in wrestling, though the smaller boy was perhaps quicker. And then, too, Whitey knew many wrestling holds, while Injun depended entirely upon his natural instincts; this, also, was greatly to Whitey's advantage.

But there was one thing Whitey had not reckoned on, and that was Injun's nature—Injun was getting angry, and Whitey could feel that his opponent was trying to strangle him, and meant to do him some injury if he could.