Moistening his lips with his tongue, the cowpuncher turned abruptly on
his heel. "Guess I'll be gittin' back where they's a lot of folks
around," he muttered as he mounted his horse. "I got to try an' figger
out if he knows it was me got Cinnabar to dope his booze. An' if he
does--" The man's face turned just a shade paler beneath the tan----
"I got to lay off this here buckin' contest. I hain't got the guts to
tackle it."

"Have you drawn your horse?" he had reached the lumber pile and the
girl was smiling down at him. He shook his head dolefully.

"No, mom, I hain't a-goin' to ride. I spraint my shoulder ropin' that
steer an' I just be'n over to see doc an' he says I should keep offen
bad horses fer a spell. It's sure tough luck, too, 'cause I c'd of won
if I c'd of rode. But I s'pose I'd ort to be satisfied, I drug down
most of the other money--all but the ropin', an' I'd of had that if it
hadn't of be'n fer Tex Benton's luck. An' he'll win ag'in, chances
is--if his cinch holds. Here he comes now; him an' that breed. They
hain't never no more'n a rope's len'th apart. Tex must have somethin'
on him the way he dogs him around."

The girl followed his glance to the Texan who approached accompanied by
Bat Lajune and a cowboy who led from the horn of his saddle a
blaze-faced bay with a roman nose. As the three drew nearer the girl
could see the mocking smile upon his lips as his eyes rested for a
moment on Purdy. "I don't like that man," she said, as though speaking
to herself, "and yet----"

"Plenty others don't like him, too," growled Purdy. "I'm glad he's
draw'd that roman nose, 'cause he's the out-buckin'est outlaw that ever