“It ain’t going to be such damn’ easy money—­that two hundred,” he confided pantingly to Andy, who stood near.  “The fellow that gets it will sure have to earn it.”

Andy nodded and moved out where he could get a better view.  Then Coleman came and informed him hurriedly that he came next, and Andy went back to his place.  The horse he was to ride he had never seen before that day.  He was a long-legged brown, with scanty mane and a wicked, rolling eye.  He looked capable of almost any deviltry, but Andy did not give much time to speculating upon what he would try to do.  He was still all eyes to the infield where his predecessor was gyrating.  Then a sudden jump loosened him so that he grabbed the horn—­and it was all over with that particular applicant, so far as the purse and the championship belt were concerned.  He was out of the contest, and presently he was also back at the corral, explaining volubly—­and uselessly—­just how it came about.  He appeared to have a very good reason for “pulling leather,” but Andy was not listening and only thought absently that the fellow was a fool to make a talk for himself.

Andy was clutching the stirrup and watching a chance to put his toe into it, and the tall brown horse was circling backwards with occasional little side-jumps.  When it was quite clear that the horse did not mean to be mounted, Andy reached out his hand, got a rope from somebody—­he did not know who, though, as a matter of fact, it was Pink who gave it—­and snared a front foot; presently the brown was standing upon three legs instead of four, and the gaping populace wondered how it was done, and craned necks to see.  After that, though the horse still circled backwards, Andy got the stirrup and put his toe in it and went up so easily that the ignorant might think anybody could do it.  He dropped the rope and saw that it was Pink who picked it up.

The brown at first did nothing at all.  Then he gave a spring straight ahead and ran fifty yards or so, stopped and began to pitch.  Three jumps and he ran again; stopped and reared.  It was very pretty to look at, but Happy Jack could have ridden him, or Slim, or any other range rider.  In two minutes the brown was sulking, and it took severe spurring to bring him back to the corral.  Pitch he would not.  The crowd applauded, but Andy felt cheated and looked as he felt.

Pink edged toward him, but Andy was not in the mood for reconciliation and kept out of his way.  Others of the Happy Family came near, at divers times and places, as if they would have speech with him, but he thought he knew about what they would say, and so was careful not to give them a chance.  When the excitement was all over for that day he got his despised hired horse and went back to town with Billy Roberts, because it was good to have a friend and because they wanted to talk about the riding.  Billy did not tell Andy, either, that he had had hard work getting away from his own crowd; for Billy was kind-hearted and had heard a good deal, because he had been talking with Happy Jack.  His sympathy was not with the Happy Family, either.