He had made the throw and tie in thirty-seven seconds,
which was two seconds faster than the record of the previous
year. But she knew instinctively, as her fascinated eyes watched
the outlaw preparing for the feat, that he was going to win. He
would use his success as a weapon against her; as a means of
showing her that he always succeeded in whatever he undertook. So
she interpreted he look he flung her as he waited at the chute
for the wild hill steer to be driven into the arena. It takes a
good man physically to make a successful roper. He must be
possessed of nerve, skill and endurance far out of the ordinary.
He must be quick-eyed, strong-handed, nimble of foot, expert of
hand and built like a wildcat. So Denver explained to the two
young women in the box, and the one behind him admitted
reluctantly that she long, lean, supple Centaur waiting
impassively at the gateway fitted the specifications.
Out flashed the rough-coated hill steer, wild and fleet as a
hare, thin and leggy, with muscles of whipcord. Down went the
flag, and the stopwatches began to tick off the seconds. Like an
arrow the outlaw's pony shot forward, a lariat circling round and
round the rider's head.
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