Teddy replied that she did, and told his father about Bug Eye’s latest venture and its result. Mr. Manley laughed heartily over the description of the puncher’s skill in roping Hortense, and then Teddy and Roy went in to wash for supper. At the table the talk veered naturally around to the rodeo to be held on the thirtieth of September at Silver City, a large town seventy miles from Eagles. “Round-up will be finished by the twelfth anyway,” Mr. Manley declared. “Pass the bread, Teddy. Suppose you boys are countin’ on entering?” Teddy and Roy looked at their mother. She smiled, and nodded. “Of course they are!” she declared. “They’re certainly not going to stay out on my account.” “That’s the stuff!” Roy exclaimed, his eyes alight. He reached over and seized his mother’s hand. “You’re a game sport, Mom! But we’ll be careful--no bulldogging, or stuff like that. I’m going to try for the fancy riding prize.” “Trick ridin’, we used to call it,” Mr. Manley said. “You’ll need lots of practice for that, Roy. Better begin soon.” “I am. To-morrow, if I get a chance. How about you, Teddy?” “Bronc riding,” Teddy declared laconically. “And there’s one more I’d like to try--wild cow milking.” “Wild cow milking!” Mrs. Manley repeated. “Is that really a contest, Teddy?” “I’ll say it is!” her husband broke in. “In my younger days that was one of the big things.” He chuckled reminiscently. “I remember one year when they held the events at San Antonio. Me, I thought I was the champion wild cow milker. Pop can tell you about this, ’cause he went in it too. Well, I gets my pail in action right away. Goin’ fine, for the first five seconds. Then things started to happen. Anyway, I didn’t win. But neither did Pop.” “Bardwell, I can’t imagine you trying to milk a cow,” Mrs. Manley laughed. “What other contests do they have, boys?” “Anything you can think of,” Roy answered. “Calf roping, steer bulldogging--eight hundred pound steers, too. Races, bell calf roping--” “How is that done?” “Usually they have five riders, and six calves to be roped. The one who ropes his calf first then gets his lariat over the calf with the bell on it--they have only one of them--wins.” “They rope those poor little calves!” Mrs. Manley exclaimed. “I should think it would hurt them!” “Only their dignity,” Teddy laughed. “Say, Roy, how about trying for the Pony Express? You could use Star and Flash and that other pony I broke this spring. You’d have a good chance of coming through in that. Don’t you think so, Dad?” “Sure,” Mr. Manley answered forcibly. “I want to see one of you boys get a prize. Reckon we’ll go down an’ watch ’em, hey, Mother?” “Yes, I’d like to very much,” said Mrs. Manley, in a small voice. Then she looked at her husband anxiously. “I suppose no one gets hurt in those--those things?”