The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1917-01-31

riding boots, and with a wooden
handled old Colt In his chaps, Mr..
Lee was a different creature from
the little man that Bowles had
whipsawed on the previous even
ing. He was not the man to let
an eastern tenderfoot run II over
him, and just as he called for
horses he said to Hardy Atkins:
"Oh, Hardy, catch up that Dun
bar horse and put this gentleman's
saddle on him, will your"
He waved his hand toward
Bowles, whose heart had just
missed a beat.
What. Dunbar" gasped the
broncho-twister.
Yes" returned Lee quietly.
"The gentleman claims he can
ride"
"Who-him!" demanded Atkins
pointing incredulously at the will
lowy Bowles.
"Yes-him!" answered the cat
tleman firmly. And after what
he said to me last evening he's
either got to ride Dunbar or own
himself a coward-that's ALL"
"Oh," responded the twister, re-
lieved by the alternative; and with
a wink at Buck and the rest of the
crowd went rollicking out to the
corral.
First he roped out his own
mount and saddled him by the
gate; then, as the slower men
caught their horses, he leaned
against the bars and pointed out
the man-killer to Bowles.
"See that brown over there?" he
queried, as Bowles stared breath
lessly out over the sea of tossing
heads. THAT wall-eyed devil with
his hip knocked down-he got that
when he rared over and killed Dun
bar"
He was a big, raw-boned brute,
and limp In his off hind leg gave
him a sinking air; but what inn
pressed Bowles the most was the
sinister look in his eyes. II ever
o horse was eongenital criminal,
Dunbar was the animal. He was
bad horse, old Dunbar, and Atkins
was there to play him up.
you want to be careful not to
hurt that hawse," he warned.
THE boss expects to get a thous-
and dollars fer him at the Chey-
enne ough-Riding Contest next
summer. Now that ok Steamboat
is rode, they's big money hangin'
up fer a bad hawse. It's fer the
championship of the world, and if
they don't get another man-killer
they can't have no contest. You
amt down here for Wild West
Show are we? Uh-huh, Jest thought
you might be-knowed you wasn't
O puncher. Well, we'll saddle him
lp fer you now-if you say SOL"
He fingered significantly on the
last word, and Henry Lee. who
was standing near, half smiled;
but there must have been some
sporting blood back in the Bowles
family somewhere, for Mr.. Bowles
merely murmured:
"If you will, pleased" and got
his saddle.
So there was nothing for Atkins
to do but go In and try to catch
Dunbar. But 1t was a mere try, for
though four of the punchers got
their ropes on him the old brute
broke each one with crack like
pistol shot.
Finally the bronco-twister came
limping over to the gate where
Bowles and Henry Lee were sit
ing, shaking the blood from a
freshly barked knuckle.
I'VE can't hold the blankety-
blank" he announced, gazing def
antly at the boss. "Of course, II
you want us to take a day of tt"
well, catch Wa-ha-lote, them"
snapped Mr.. Lee. 1--WE got some
thing else to do, Mr.. Bowles," he
observed tartly, besides saddle up
man-killers for man that can't sit
a trotting-horse."
This was evidently an allusion
to Mr.. Bowles' way of putting the
English on a jog-trot.
The sun had come up over the
San Rac.on Mountains while
Hardy Atkins was wrestling with
Dunbar; It scared still higher
while the boys caught Wa-ha-lote.
1t was hot work, with skinned
and rope-burned hands
to pay for it; but the hour of re-
venge was at hand, and they called
for Bowles.
Excitement had aroused Mr..
Bowles and he blithely hurried out
to his mount.
ooh, what a beautiful horse!"
he cried, standing back to admire
his lines. do you need that
on his eyes?"
What l say!" commented At