CHAPTER VI

THE RIM OF THE BENCH

Out on the flat the Texan was riding "straight up" amid a whirl of
white dust.

"Fan him, Tex!"

"Stay with him!"

The cries of the cowboys cut high above the chorus of yelling applause
as the furious outlaw tried every known trick to unseat the rider.
High in the air he bucked, swapping ends like a flash, and landing with
all four feet "on a dollar," his legs stiff as jack-pine posts. The
Texan rode with one hand gripping the hackamore rope and the other his
quirt which stung and bit into the frenzied animal's shoulders each
time he hit the ground. In a perfect storm of fury the horse plunged,
twisted, sunfished, and bucked to free himself of the rider who swayed
easily in the saddle and raked him flank and sides with his huge
rowelled spurs.

"Stay a long time!"

"Scratch him, Tex!" yelled the delighted cowpunchers.