“Well, Bill had a hoss that he thought the world of, and he had a good reason to, too, for he had raised him from a colt, feedin’ him on a special diet of nitroglycerin and barbed wire, which made him very tough and also very ornery when anybody tried to handle him but Bill. The hoss thought the world of Bill, but when anybody else come around, it was all off. He had more ways of pitchin’ than Carter had oats. Lots of men tried to ride him, but only one man besides Bill ever mounted that hoss and lived. That’s the reason Bill named him Widow-Maker.” “Who was that man?” asked Lanky. “That was Bill’s friend that I was goin’ to tell you about Bill savin’ his life,” said Hank. “You see this feller gits his heart set on ridin’ Widow-Maker. Bill tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen. He said he could ride anything that had hair. It had been his ambition from youth, he said, to find a critter that could make him pull leather. So Bill, seein’ the pore feller’s heart was about to break, finally told him to go ahead. [Illustration: “_A-settin’ on that tornado and a-spurrin’ it in the withers._”] “He gits on Widow-Maker, and that hoss begins to go through his gaits, doin’ the end-to-end, the sunfish, and the back-throw; and about that time the rider goes up in the sky. Bill watches him through a spyglass and sees him land on Pike’s Peak. No doubt he would of starved to death up there, but Bill roped him by the neck and drug him down, thus savin’ his life.” “Yeah,” said Red, “Widow-Maker was jist the sort of hoss that suited Bill exactly. For one thing, it saved him a lot of shootin’, because he didn’t have no trouble keepin’ other people off his mount; and as for Bill, he could ride anything that had hair and some things that didn’t have. Once, jist for fun, he throwed a surcingle on a streak of lightin’ and rode it over Pike’s Peak. “Another time he bet a Stetson hat he could ride a cyclone. He went up on the Kansas line and simply eared that tornado down and got on it. Down he come across Oklahoma and the Panhandle a-settin’ on that tornado, a-curlin’ his mustache and a-spurrin’ it in the withers. Seein’ it couldn’t throw him, it jist naturally rained out from under him, and that’s the way Bill got the only spill he ever had. “Yeah,” continued Red, “I reckon Bill was mighty hard to throw. A smart lad he was, and a playful sort of feller, too. In his spare time he used to amuse his self puttin’ thorns on things--bushes and cactuses and the like, and he even stuck horns on the toads so they’d match up with the rest of the country.” “I see he’s been at work in this country,” said Lanky. “Did he live all his life in Texas?”