You can back out of that sale now, if you like.

But I'm tellin' you the gospel truth.
There ain't no man in the Territory can ride him.

Miskell, my regular bronc-buster, is the slickest man that ever forked a horse, an' he's layin' down in the bunkhouse right now, nursin' a leg which that black devil busted last week.

An' men is worth more to me than horses right now.

I reckon," he finished, eyeing Calumet with a certain vindictiveness, which had undoubtedly lasted over from his acquaintance with the latter in the old days; "that you ain't a heap smart at breakin' broncs, an' you won't want the black now." "I'm reckonin' on ridin' him back to the Lazy Y," said Calumet.
Kelton grinned incredulously, and Betty looked swiftly at Calumet.