"How long kin a fella stick on that there Blue Smoke hoss?" he queried
presently.
"Depends on the man," said Bailey, grinning.
"Bailey here stayed with him fifteen seconds onct," said a cowboy.
Pete pushed hack his hat. "Well, I ain't no bronco-twister, but I
reckon I could ride him a couple o' jumps. Who's keepin' time on the
dog-gone cayuse?"
"Anybody that's got a watch," replied Bailey.
Pete hitched up his chaps. "I got a watch and I'd hate to bust her.
If you'll hold her till I git through"--and he handed the watch to the
nearest cowboy. "If you'll throw my saddle on 'im, I reckon I'll walk
him round a little and see what kind of action he's got."
"Shucks!" exclaimed Bailey; "that hoss would jest nacherally pitch you
so high you wouldn't git back in time for the fall round-up, kid. He's
bad."
"Well, you said they wa'n't no job till fall, anyhow," said Pete.
"Mebby I'd git back in time for a job."
Bailey shook his head. "I was joshin'--this mornin'."
"'Bout my ridin' that hoss? Well, I ain't. I'm kind of a stranger up
here, and I reckon you fellas think, because that doggone ole soap-foot
fell down with me, that I can't ride 'em.
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