Suddenly—­so suddenly that the crowd was still wondering why the man didn’t swing his rope, there was a blur of white dust, a brown streak as the cow-horse shot across the forefront of the big steer, the thud of a heavy body on the ground, the glimpse of a man-among the thrashing hoofs, and then a mighty heaving as the huge steer strained against the rope that bound his feet, while the cowboy shoved the Stetson to the back of his head and felt for his tobacco and papers.

“Gosh sakes!” yelled Mayor Maloney excitedly as he stared at the watch in his hand.  “Fifty-seven seconds!  They can’t beat that down to Cheyenne!”

At the words, a mighty cheer went up from the crowd and everybody was talking at once.  While over beside the big steer the cowboy mounted his pony and coiling his rope as he rode, joined the group of riders who lounged in their saddles and grinned their appreciation.

“Ladies an’ gents,” began the Mayor, “you have jest witnessed a ropin’ contest the winner of which is Tex Benton to beat who McLaughlin himself would have to do his da—­doggondest!  We will now conclood the afternoon’s galaxity of spurious stars, as the circus bills says, with a buckin’ contest which unneedless to say will conclood the afternoon’s celebration of the openin’ of a institoot that it’s a credit to any town in reference to which I mean the Wolf River Citizen’s Bank in which we invite to whose vaults a fair share of your patrimony.  While the boys is gittin’ ready an’ drawin’ their horses a couple of gents will pass amongst you an’ give out to one an’ all, ladies an’ gents alike, an’ no favorytes played, a ticket good fer a free drink in any saloon in Wolf River on the directors of the bank I have endeavoured to explain about which.  After which they’ll be a free feed at the hotel also on the directors.  Owin’ to the amount of folks on hand this here will be pulled off in relays, ladies furst, as they hain’t room fer all to onct, but Hank, here, claims he’s got grub enough on hand so all will git a chanct to shove right out ag’in their belt.  An’ I might say right here in doo elegy of our feller townsman that Hank c’n set out as fillin’ an’ tasty a meal of vittles as anyone ever cocked a lip over, barrin’, of course, every married man’s wife.

“Draw your horses, boys, an’ git a-goin’!”

Alice Marcum’s surprise at Tex Benton’s remarkable feat, after what Purdy had told her, was nothing to the surprise and rage of Purdy himself who had sat like an image throughout the performance.  When the Mayor began his oration Purdy’s eyes flashed rapidly over the crowd and seeing that neither Cinnabar Joe nor the doctor were present, slipped his horse around the end of the lumber pile and dashed for the doctor’s office.  “That damn Doc’ll wisht he hadn’t never double-crossed me!” he growled, as he swung from the saddle before the horse had come to a stop.  The office was empty and the man turned to the Headquarters saloon.  Inside were the two men he sought, and he approached them with a snarl.