The next instant Tad Butler was flying through the air over the pony's head. CHAPTER XIX GRIT WINS THE BATTLE The lad appeared to strike the ground head-on. Fortunately, the spot where he landed was covered with soft sand. "Are you hurt?" asked Big-foot, running to the boy and reaching out to assist him. "I guess not," answered Tad, rubbing the sand from his eyes and blinking vigorously. The skin had been scraped from his face in spots where the coarse sand had ground its way through. His hair was filled with the dirt of the plain, and his clothes were torn. But Tad Butler, nothing daunted, smiled as he pulled himself to his feet. "You better let that job out. You can't ride that critter!" "I'll ride him--if he kills me!" answered the boy, his jaws setting stubbornly. Tad hitched his belt tighter before making any move to approach the pony, which Stallings was now holding by main force. While doing so, the lad watched the animal's buckings observantly. "What--what happened?" demanded Stallings. "Foot slipped out of the stirrup." "Think you can make it?" "I'll try it, if you have the time to spare." "It takes time to break a bronch. Don't you worry about that. I don't want you to be breaking your neck, however." "My advice is that you keep off that animal," declared Professor Zepplin. "You cannot manage him; that is plain." "Please do not say that, Professor. I must ride him now. You wouldn't have me be a coward, would you?" Stallings, realizing the boy's position, nodded slightly to the Professor. "Very well, if Mr. Stallings thinks it is safe," agreed Professor Zepplin reluctantly. Tad's face lighted up with a satisfied smile. "Whoa, boy," he soothed, patting the animal gently on the neck. The pony's back arched and its heels shot up into the air again. Once more Tad petted him. "No use," said the foreman. "The iron hand is the only thing that will break this cayuse. Don't know enough to know when he's well off. Got your spurs on?" "Yes." "Then drive them in when you get well seated." Tad shook his head. "I do not think that will be necessary. Guess he'll go fast enough without urging him with the rowels," answered the boy, backing away to wait until the pony had bounced itself into a position where another effort to mount him would be possible. "Will you please coil up the stake rope and fasten it to the horn, Mr. Stallings?" asked Tad. "I don't want to get tangled up with that thing." "Yes, if you are sure you can stick on him." "Leave that to me. I know his tricks now." Cautiously the rope was coiled and made fast to the saddle horn. "I'm coming," said Tad in a quiet, tense voice. "Ready," answered the foreman, with equal quietness. The lad darted forward, running on his toes, his eyes fixed on the saddle. Tad gave no heed to the pony. It was that heavy bobbing saddle that he must safely make before the pony itself would enter into his considerations.