Mose rode into the inclosure with impassive face. He could only duplicate the deeds of those who had gone before so long as his work was governed by the marshal--but when, as in the case of others, he was free to "put on frills," he did so. Tackling the heaviest and wildest steer, he dropped his rope over one horn and caught up one foot, then taking a loose turn about his pommel he spoke to Kintuck. The steer reached the end of the rope with terrible force. It seemed as if the saddle must give way--but the strain was cunningly met, and the brute tumbled and laid flat with a wild bawl. While Kintuck held him Mose took a cigar from his pocket, bit the end off, struck a match and puffed carelessly and lazily. It was an old trick, but well done, and the spectators cheered heartily. After a few casts of almost equal brilliancy, Mose leaped to the ground with the rope in his hand, and while Kintuck looked on curiously, he began a series of movements which one of Delmar's Mexicans had taught him. With the noose spread wide he kept it whirling in the air as if it were a hoop. He threw it into the air and sprang through it, he lowered it to the ground, and leaping into it, flung it far above his head. In his hand this inert thing developed snakelike action. It took on loops and scallops and retained them, apparently in defiance of all known laws of physics--controlled and governed by the easy, almost imperceptible motions of his steel-like wrist. "Forty-five dollars more to the good," said Mose grimly as the decision came in his favor. "See here--going to take all the prizes?" asked one of the judges. "So long as you keep to my line of business," replied he. The races came next. Kintuck took first money on the straightaway dash, but lost on the long race around the pole. It nearly broke his heart, but he came in second to Denver Dan's sorrel twice in succession. Mose patted the old horse and said: "Never mind, old boy, you pulled in forty dollars more for me." Reynolds had tears in his eyes as he came up. "The old hoss cain't compete on the long stretches. He's like a middle-aged man--all right for a short dash--but the youngsters have the best wind--they get him on the mile course." In the trained pony contest the old horse redeemed himself. He knelt at command, laid out flat while Mose crouched behind, and at the word "Up!" sprang to his feet and waited--then with his master clinging to his mane he ran in a circle or turned to right or left at signal. All the tricks which the cavalry had taught their horses, Mose, in years on the trail, had taught Kintuck. He galloped on three legs and waltzed like a circus horse. He seemed to know exactly what his master said to him. A man with a big red beard came up to Mose as he rode off the track and said: "What'll you take for that horse?" Mose gave him a savage glance. "He ain't for sale." The broncho-busting contest Mose declined.