The bar act
at a fast run, screaming to high heavens his aim of obtaining quick
and bloody revenge.
* * * * *
Slim drew up on the track, threw down the objects he had been carrying,
including the rope and catching sight of the enraged trick roper hot on
his trail, he left once more in a fresh and unobstructed direction.
Like Carter’s axle, the objects Slim carried were, as nearly as could be
told at a glance, of the same length. However, they were of different
material. One was a windmill handle, the other a broomstick. Nothing
better available and time being precious, they would have to do. Buck
drew from his pocket a sharp knife and after two well-applied swipes,
the sixteen dollar Manila became two. Which made it an established fact
that the difficult stunt called the double ocean wave would never again
be performed with this particular rope.
At the sight of this sacrilege, the trick roper who had drawn near
stopped in his tracks, paled, and fainted dead away!
In less time than it takes to tell, the implements were installed on the
saddles. Buck, his windmill handle securely lashed to the pommel, struck
out first to try his luck. It soon became apparent that a strong horse
was required for such an act. Given proper warning and some practice,
Buck’s horse would have been equal to it. As it was, he stumbled, got
off his course and ended up by falling into a lumbering awkward trot.
Buck effected a couple of wild spins, lost his hold and landed on his
ear in the dust. He rose immediately, spit out a mouthful of dirt and
limped off the track cursing his luck.
Lou was next and he galloped down the track hoping for the best and
ready and willing to perform the Bar Act as it should be executed.
His horse took the shock better than Buck’s and had it not been for
one single mishap, the Bar Act would have been defeated on its own
home grounds. But the broomstick broke. Broke when Lou was spinning
his best--and that was going some! It happened that the accident took
place when Lou was headed upward. Had it been the other way, he would
have flattened himself out like a pancake. He sailed gracefully
through the air with a death grip on the remaining piece of the broom
handle. The landing was hard and it has been said that when Lou hit
the ground, the jar was felt for miles around, going so far as to be
recorded on a delicate instrument built for the special purpose of
registering earthquakes. Hard as it was, though, it was not hard
enough to disable him and with the grin of a man who has tried and
failed through no fault of his, Lou withdrew from the vicinity of his
downfall.
The announcer bawled above the ensuing tumult that the next event on the
program would be the bulldogging of wild, long-horned Texas steers.
* * * * *
That night, in a hotel room, four cowboys sat around a bed, engaged in
the pleasing pastime of dividing a large roll of money. There was Bobby
Stuart--one arm in a sling but happy, and Slim Jones, displaying a
beautiful purplish eye and telling of some trick roper who in some
mysterious fashion had collected two identical optics. Buck Farrell was
also present, only slightly damaged, with scratches of no importance.
The last was Lou Warner, proudly boasting of almost accomplishing the
difficult Bar Act. The gathering was a happy one, regardless of the
battle scars.
“Who’da thunk it?” asked Lou. “If we’d only knowed it, we wouldn’t had
to break our dum fool necks trying to do no Bar Act.”
“Maybe not,” said Buck. “But if it hadn’t been for the fear of it, we
wouldn’t have tried so hard on the other stuff and Carter would of won
first anyway. He’s salty!”
“Well, anyway, we won it,” added Slim, stuffing bills into his pockets.
“And now, hombres, me for a bed!” Which suggestion, being well made
under the circumstances, was followed by all present.
The unexpected had happened when all hopes were dead. Lou Warner had
been given first by the judges. Not because of his try at the Bar Act,
however.
Said judges, after a hasty conference, had decided that the Bar Act
was not a feat to be included at a cowboy contest. It was thrilling
and spectacular enough, but the lugging of a Ford axle on a saddle
was not a cowboy-like thing to do.
Carter, placing all his confidence on his original invention, had eased
up on his other tricks and lost out altogether.
The Bar Act has become a sort of legend with the boys who drift over the
country making rodeos. But, in the immediate vicinity of Leonard Carter,
three words are always omitted in polite conversation.
You’ve guessed them!
[Transcriber’s note: This story appeared in the September 25, 1928 issue
of _Short Stories_ magazine.]