Is that chap
an expert roper?"
"I couldn't say as to that. But he's big and strong--"
"Which doesn't count for very much in this sort of a contest," laughed
the boy.
"Very well, you know best. But keep your eyes on him."
"Are you gentlemen ready to begin?" called the rancher.
"I must go now," said Tad hurriedly.
"Good-bye and good luck," breathed Mr. Phipps, as the lad rode away at
the same time straightening out his rope which he allowed to drag
behind his pony while he recoiled it, working it in his hands to
limber the rawhide.
"It's a good rope," decided Tad.
The foreman halted them for final instructions.
"Now, gentlemen, understand that the rope must go over the head and be
drawn taut, after which you are to let go of it. You are to take your
places some distance apart--I'll place you--and start at the crack of
the pistol, not before. Understand?"
Tad and the cowman opposed to him nodded, the latter with a sarcastic
grin on his face.
The miner had lost the rifle which he coveted, and the cowboy did not
propose to have the same luck in the case of the saddle, which was
very valuable.
The cowboy had his rope in hand ready to begin, while Tad's had been
hung over the saddle horn. The lad was sitting in his saddle easily,
with a quiet smile on his face, and the spectators noted that he was
not in the least nervous.
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