these the master of ceremonies now turned his attention.

"From the wildest regions of the range we have brought mustangs that
never have borne the weight of man. They fight for pleasure; they buck
by instinct. If you doubt it, step down and try 'em. One hundred dollars
to the man who sticks on the back of one of 'em--but we won't pay the
hospital bill!"

He lowered his megaphone to enjoy the laughter, and the small man took
this opportunity to say: "Never borne the weight of a man! That chap in
the dress-suit, he tells one lie for pleasure and ten more from
instinct. Yep, he has his hosses beat. Never borne the weight of man!
Why, Drew, I can see the saddle-marks clear from here; I got a mind to
slip down there and pick up the easiest hundred bones that ever rolled
my way."

He rose to make good his threat, but Drew cut in with: "Don't be a damn
fool, Werther. You aren't part of this show."

"Well, I will be soon. Watch me! There goes Ananias on his second wind."

The announcer was bellowing: "These man-killing mustangs will be ridden,
broken, beaten into submission in fair fight by the greatest set of
horse-breakers that ever wore spurs. They can ride anything that walks
on four feet and wears a skin; they can--"

Werther sprang to his feet, made a funnel of his hand, and shouted:
"Yi-i-i-ip!"

If he had set off a great quantity of red fire he could not more