But Steamboat's
confidence had been shaken as well as its strength. Its efforts
grew less cyclonic. Foam covered its mouth and flecked its sides.
The pitches were easy to foresee and meet. Presently they ceased
altogether.
Bannister slid from the saddle and swayed unsteadily across the
arena. The emergency past, he had scarce an ounce of force left
in him. Jim McWilliams ran out and slipped an arm around his
shoulders, regardless of what his friends might think of him for
it.
"You're all in, old man. Y'u hadn't ought to have ridden, even
though y'u did skin us all to a finish."
"Nonsense, Mac. First place goes to y'u or--or Jack Holloway."
"Not unless the judges are blind."
But Bannister's prediction proved true. The champion, Sanford,
had been traveling with a Wild West show, and was far too soft to
compete with these lusty cowboys, who had kept hard from their
daily life on the plains. Before he had ridden three minutes it
was apparent that he stood no chance of retaining his title, so
that the decision narrowed itself to an issue between the two
Bannisters and McWilliams. First place was awarded to the latter,
the second prize to Jack Holloway and the third to Ned Bannister.
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