Ropes began to wiggle through the air as the western riders sought
to rope each other. They were giving Grace Harlowe a demonstration
of what western roping was, and, as she rode, Grace observed and
enjoyed, as did her companions.

Suddenly a rope darted into the air behind her, and, had she not
seen its shadow, Grace surely would have been caught. Interpreting
that shadow for what it was the Overland Rider threw herself
forward on her pony's neck just as the loop descended. It dropped
lightly on her back, but she was out from under it in a flash,
and, as she sped on, she turned a laughing face to the roper, who
was being rewarded by the jeers of his companions who had chanced
to see him make the cast and fail.

Howling and whooping like a wild Indian, another rider shot
directly across Grace's path, his glee spinning his sombrero as
high in the air as he could throw it, intending to ride under and
catch it. Grace's revolver, the same weapon that she had taken
from Belle Bates, the wife of the bandit of the Apache Trail,
whipped out of its holster in a second. Her first shot at the
spinning hat missed, but her second shot was a hit. She put a hole
right through the crown of the hat.

The whooping and yelling was renewed as the owner of the hat
scooped it up from the ground and held it up for the others to
see. There were two, however, who were taking no interest in the
shooting--the cowboy who had tried to rope Grace, and a companion
who was chasing and trying to rope him in payment for his
unsportsmanlike attempt to cast his lariat over Grace Harlowe's
head.