"See you later," he called to her by way of good-bye.

As the ambulance drove away she waved cheerfully at him a gauntleted
hand.

The cowpuncher turned back to the arena. The megaphone man was
announcing that the contest for the world's rough-riding championship
would now be resumed.




CHAPTER III

FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WORLD

The less expert riders had been weeded out in the past two days. Only
the champions of their respective sections were still in the running.
One after another these lean, brown men, chap-clad and bow-legged, came
forward dragging their saddles and clamped themselves to the backs of
hurricane outlaws which pitched, bucked, crashed into fences, and
toppled over backward in their frenzied efforts to dislodge the human
clothes-pins fastened to them.

The bronco busters endured the usual luck of the day. Two were thrown
and picked themselves out of the dust, chagrined and damaged, but still
grinning. One drew a tame horse not to be driven into resistance
either by fanning or scratching. Most of the riders emerged from the
ordeal victorious. Meanwhile the spectators in the big grand stand,