Page:The Trail Rider (1924).pdf/42

 around the arena in long leaps, like a deer, yet far out of reach of her lariat, and at every circle past the grand stand the enthusiasm of the spectators grew.

Here at last was the real thing; here was a show for your money, a thing to make you lift in your seat and feel a thrill up your backbone when that handsome girl went by, swift as a leaf on the wind, a whirl of dust behind her, her slender limbs holding her to the saddle as lissom as a sapling in a gale.

Accustomed as these people were to seeing men and women tearing about the town on, there was a quality in this girl's exhibition of riding that held their breath in admiration. There was no thought as to when it would end, or how, only the present wonder of her plastic figure and the moving appreciation of her grace and competence, as she went dashing across the dusty field.

Down in the front where Texas and the bow-legged man stood there was some concern lest the long-winded steer might outlast her horse.

"That feller's a wind-splitter from Arkansaw!" said the bow-legged man.

"He sure is built for speed," Texas replied, his anxious eyes on the whirl of dust through which pursuer and pursued were dimly seen.

"He's a racehorse, cuss him!" The bow-legged