"Keep still, can't you!" she said.
Kelton reddened; she did not see his face though, for she was watching Calumet and the black.
The outlaw had not ceased his efforts.

On the contrary, it appeared that he was just beginning to warm to his work.

Screaming with rage and hate he sprang forward at a dead run, propelling himself with the speed of a bullet for a hundred yards, only to come to a dizzying, terrifying stop; standing on his hind legs; pawing furiously at the air with his forehoofs; tearing impotently at the bit with his teeth, slashing with terrific force in the fury of his endeavor.
Calumet's hat had come off during the first series of bucks.

The grin that had been on his face when he had got into the saddle back near the corral fence was gone, had been superseded by a grimness that Betty could see even from the distance from which she watched.

He was a rider though, she saw that--had seen it from the first.