He ain't just a buckin' hoss; he's a man-killer, lad.

I'm tellin' you straight.

And this floor ain't so soft as the sawdust makes it look," he ended with a grin.
The younger man considered the animal seriously.
"I'm not broke; I've simply taken a fancy to your horse.

If you don't mind, I'd like to try him out.

Seems too bad, in a way, for a brute like that to put it over on ten thousand people without getting a run for his money--a sporting chance, eh ?" And he laughed with great good nature.
"What's your name ?" asked Werther, his small eyes growing round and wide.
"Anthony Woodbury." "Mine's Werther." They shook hands.
"City raised ?" "Yes." "Didn't know they came in this style east of the Rockies, Woodbury.