Page:The Trail Rider (1924).pdf/48

 the other hand, Mr. Winch was doing some smiling himself, of a rather mirthless and sardonic kind, which lifted his great black mustache as a cat moves its lip before a spring. Peculiar teeth Mr. Winch had, slanting outward, giving his lips a bulge. They gave one the thought that he must have begun very early in his life gnawing, like a beaver, on some hard substance.

"We went the limit, Miss Sallie," he said, "and I've got just seven old bony dollars left that say Miss Fannie Goodnight, nor no other woman from Wichita or anywhere else, can come inside of thirty seconds of matchin' your time."

"I'd be sorry if any of you boys were to lose money on me. Maybe she'll beat me."

"Wait till she does," said Winch, in high confidence of security. "Well, here she comes, and sa-ay people! Look at that ani-mile!"

A bony red steer was passing from the cattle pen into the arena. It was so thin and flat that its ribs could have been counted at twenty yards. The creature was slow and spiritless, seemingly bowed under the weight of its great branching horns. It stopped a few rods beyond the gate and stood with its head down, as if its race had been run long ago and it hadn't the strength to carry it another hundred yards.

Sallie McCoy beheld the creature with amaze