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.
At every leap the cow pony lessened the gap as it pounded forward on the
heels of the flying steer.

The loop swept forward and dropped over the horns of the animal. The
pony, with the perfect craft of long practice, swerved to one side with
a rush. The dragging rope swung up against the running steer's legs,
grew suddenly taut. Down went the steer's head, and next moment its feet
were swept from under it as it went heavily to the ground. Man and horse
were perfect in their team work. As the supple rider slid from the back
of the pony it ran to the end of the rope and braced itself to keep the
animal from rising. Bannister leaped on the steer, tie-rope in hand.
Swiftly his deft hands passed to and fro, making the necessary loops and
knots. Then his hands went into the air. The steer was hog-tied.

For a few seconds the judges consulted together. "Twenty-nine seconds,"
announced their spokesman, and at the words a great cheer went up.
Bannister had made his tie in record time.

Impudently the scoundrel sauntered up to the grand stand, bowed
elaborately to Miss Messiter, and perched himself on the fence, where he
might be the observed of all observers. It was curious, she thought,
how his vanity walked hand in hand with so much power and force. He was
really extraordinarily strong, but no debutante's self-sufficiency could
have excelled his. He was so frankly an egotist that it ceased to be a
weakness.

Back in her room at the hotel an hour later Helen paced up and down
under a nervous strain foreign to her temperament. She was afraid; for
the first time in her life definitely afraid. This man pitted against
her had deliberately divorced his life from morality