The girl's head jerked forward as though it were on a hinge. The outlaw went sunfishing, its forefeet almost straight up. She was still in the saddle when it came to all fours again. A series of jarring bucks, each ending with the force of a pile-driver as Wild Fire's hoofs struck earth, varied the programme. The rider came down limp, half in the saddle, half out, righting herself as the horse settled for the next leap. But not once did her hands reach for the pommel of the saddle to steady her. Pitching and bucking, the animal humped forward to the fence. "Look out!" a judge yelled. It was too late. The rider could not deflect her mount. Into the fence went Wild Fire blindly and furiously. The girl threw up her leg to keep it from being jammed. Up went the bronco again before Wild Rose could find the stirrup. She knew she was gone, felt herself shooting forward. She struck the ground close to the horse's hoofs. Wild Fire lunged at her. A bolt of pain like a red-hot iron seared through her. Through the air a rope whined. It settled over the head of the outlaw and instantly was jerked tight. Wild Fire, coming down hard for a second lunge at the green crumpled heap underfoot, was dragged sharply sideways. Another lariat snaked forward and fell true. "Here, Cole!" The first roper thrust the taut line into the hands of a puncher who had run forward. He himself dived for the still girl beneath the hoofs of the rearing horse. Catching her by the arms, he dragged her out of danger. She was unconscious. The cowboy picked her up and carried her to the waiting ambulance. The closed eyes flickered open. A puzzled little frown rested in them. "What's up, Kirby?" asked Wild Rose. "You had a spill." "Took the dust, did I?" He sensed the disappointment in her voice. "You rode fine. He jammed you into the fence," explained the young man. The doctor examined her. The right arm hung limp. "Broken, I'm afraid," he said. "Ever see such luck?" the girl complained to Lane. "Probably they won't let me ride in the wild-horse race now." "No chance, young lady," the doctor said promptly. "I'm going to take you right to the hospital." "I might get back in time," she said hopefully. "You might, but you won't." "Oh, well," she sighed. "If you're going to act like that." The cowboy helped her into the ambulance and found himself a seat. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked with a smile a bit twisted by pain. "I reckon I'll go far as the hospital with you." "I reckon you won't. What do you think I am--a nice little parlor girl who has to be petted when she gets hurt? You're on to ride inside of fifteen minutes--and you know it." "Oh, well! I'm lookin' for an alibi so as not to be beaten. That Cole Sanborn is sure a straight-up rider." "So's that Kirby Lane. You needn't think I'm going to let you beat yourself out of the championship. Not so any one could notice it. Hop out, sir."