Nowhere outside of Cattleland could it have
been duplicated. Wyoming is sparsely populated, but the riders of
the plains think nothing of traveling a hundred miles in the
saddle to be present at a "broncobusting" contest. Large
delegations, too, had come in by railroad from Caspar, Billings,
Sheridan, Cheyenne and a score of other points, so that the
amphitheatre that looked down on the arena was filled to its
capacity.
All night the little town had rioted with its guests. Everything
was wide open at Gimlet Butte. Saloons were doing a land-office
business and gambling-houses coining money. Great piles of gold
had passed to and fro during the night at the roulette wheel and
the faro table. But with the coming of day interest had centered
on the rough-riding contest for the world's championship. Saloons
and dance halls were deserted, and the universal trend of travel
had been toward the big grand stands, from which the sport could
be best viewed.
It was afternoon now. The preliminaries had been ridden, and half
a dozen of the best riders had been chosen by the judges to ride
again for the finals. Helen was wonderfully interested, because
in the six who were to ride again were included the two Bannister
cousins, her foreman, McWilliams, the young man "Texas," whom she
had met the day of her arrival at Gimlet Butte, and Tom Sanford,
who had last year won the championship.
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