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and hoofs was deafening but
Long Tom did not even hear them. He was watching Vicky come near.
    She nodded to the arena boss as he trotted by and the
arena boss smiled and tipped his hat.
    Long Tom uncomfortably realized that she was going to
approach him personally and talk to him. He slid down off the gate and stood in
an attitude which looked defiant but which was merely defensive.
    He was a pretty picture of a puncher standing there, but
he didn’t know it. He was something which had just stepped down from the rodeo
posters.
    And Vicky did not miss the attitude.
    â€œTwo men,” said Vicky, “were laid out this afternoon.”
    â€œYeah,” said Long Tom.
    â€œAnd that will leave their places in the wild horse
race.”
    Long Tom looked at her suspiciously.
    â€œAnd,” said Vicky, “there isn’t any objection to you and
I taking those places.”
    â€œSo what?” said Long Tom.
    Vicky was very casual. She flicked her quirt against one
flaring white wing of her chaps and looked at Long Tom’s glittering belt.
    â€œThere are two mankillers in that crowd,” said Vicky,
indicating the herd of wild horses which was still coming out. “Some of the
boys are betting that neither one of them can even be saddled out in the
arena.”
    â€œYeah?” said Long Tom.
    Vicky smiled, but not very pleasantly. “Yeah. We’ve
never tried this. We’ve never matched ourselves up in open contest on broncs.
One of those horses is Thunder and the other is Wild Bill. We obey the rules.
We saddle and then go once around the track, if we can.”
    â€œAnd?” said Long Tom.
    â€œAnd I’ve got three thousand dollars saved up, Long Tom
Branner.”
    â€œSo have I.”
    â€œOkay, Mr. Champion Bronc Twisteroo, put up or shut up.
If I win I get three thousand cash and you never say another word to me about
anything such as how to ride. And if you win . . .”
    Long Tom didn’t know how he had suddenly gotten so bold.
He squared off. “If I win, you don’t have to pay up. You marry me.”
    She gasped and stood motionless.
    â€œThat’s right,” said Long Tom swiftly. “You think you’re
better than me. Okay, you’ve got a chance to prove it.”
    She was breathless with shock. “But I didn’t think . . .
I mean that’s . . .”
    â€œPut up or shut up!” said Long Tom truculently. “You win
and you’ll never be bothered by me again and you’ll be richer by three thousand
dollars. I win and I win. Is that clear?”
    She colored and raised her head defiantly. “Yes, that’s
clear. God, but you hate yourself!”
    â€œYeah?” said Long Tom.
    â€œI know what would happen to me if I lost!” said Vicky.
    â€œI doubt that you’d keep the bargain,” snapped Long Tom.
    That was the blow which ignited the powder magazine of
her anger. She got white and then whirled and stamped away.
    Long Tom watched her go. He didn’t feel just right. He
didn’t want her to fight Thunder or Wild Bill around that slippery, mucky
track.
    But she hated him when he refused to beat her.
    And this time he would beat her!
    â€œJoe!” yelled Long Tom to a rider. “I’m taking Bart
Johnson’s place on Wild Bill.”
    The puncher looked startled. “Yes, Mr. Branner.” He
turned in his saddle. “Hey, run Wild Bill back in!”
    Long Tom strode across the soft turf toward the stands.
The arena boss had stopped beside Vicky and now he quirted up and came trotting
toward Long Tom.
    â€œMiss Stuart is riding Thunder,” said the arena boss in
a surprised tone of voice.
    â€œI’m on Wild Bill,” said the twister.
    â€œFor God’s sake!” said the arena boss, hurrying away.
    Bart Johnson’s two friends were hurrying across with
saddle and hackamore to Long Tom. And the friends of the other injured man were
loping toward Vicky.