The "Ki-yi" yell was given--the blindfold slipped from Firefly's eyes, and the rowels of the rider sunk into the flanks of his horse. Bucking and plunging, wheeling and whirling, all the time the rider not daring to "pull leather" and so disqualify himself under the rules, the outlaw once again proved himself a veritable demon. In just two minutes after the struggle began Scotty Meisch measured his length on the ground and Firefly was dashing for the open. The scene had been a thrilling one. Roderick noticed that Scotty had to be helped off the track, but he felt no concern--the rough-rider parted from his mount in a hurry may be temporarily dazed but is seldom seriously hurt.
Steamboat was the next horse. Bud Bledsoe was wont to brag there was nothing wore hair that he could not ride. But Steamboat, when he felt the weight of a rider on his back, was as usual possessed of a devil. But Bledsoe was not the man to conquer the noted outlaw, and down he went in prompt and inglorious defeat.
Gin Fizz was a magnificent specimen of horseflesh--black as midnight with a coat of hair that shone like velvet. His proud head was held high in air. He stood like a statue while blindfolded and Roderick Warfield was making ready to mount.
The vast assemblage in the grandstand held their breath in amazement and wondered what would become of the rider of the giant black.
Then Roderick quickly mounted, and men and women rose to their feet to see the terribleness of it all. Roderick sent his spurs deep into the flanks of the black and plied the quirt in a desperate effort quickly to master and subdue the outlaw.
The horse reared and plunged with lightning quickness, and at times was the center of a whirlwind of dust in his determined zig-zag efforts to dislodge his rider. He rose straight up on his hind legs and for a moment it looked as if he were going to fall over backwards. Then seemingly rising still higher in air from his back feet he leaped forward and downward, striking his front feet into the earth as if he would break the saddle girth and certainly pitch the rider over his head. He squatted, jumped, corkscrewed and sun-fished, leaped forward; then he stopped suddenly and in demoniacal anger, as if determined not to be conquered, he threw his head far around endeavoring to bite his assailant's legs. But at last the horse's exertions wore him down and he seemed to be reluctantly realizing that he had found his master. In the end, after a terrible fight lasting fully seven minutes, he quieted down in submission, and Gin Fizz thus acknowledged Roderick's supremacy. He was subdued. Roderick drew rein, patted him kindly, dismounted and turned him over to the wranglers. Gin Fizz was no longer an outlaw; he suffered himself to be led away, trembling in every limb but submissive as a well-trained cow-pony.