A perfect fall day, with the bright sun laughing down on a scene of vivid beauty. Flags flying in the fresh breeze. Bands playing. Girls, in picture hats, gazing forward eagerly. Cow punchers, resplendent in silver mounted belts, checkered shirts, and big woolly chaps, swaggering proudly about. A crowd roaring its approval of a man in the center of the arena astride a bucking, twisting bronco. The rodeo! The governor of the state had a box directly in the center of the grandstand. Next to his was the Manley box. Within it sat Mr. and Mrs. Manley, with Belle Ada, Nell Willis, and Ethel--no, Curly--Carew. And one other. In the rear, inconspicuous as possible, a little man, tanned of face, with blue, kindly eyes, looked out upon the scene. It was Mohammed Ben Ali Suliman--alias Professor Sullivan, psychologist. He leaned forward and touched Mr. Manley on the shoulder. “Does--er--our boy ride soon?” “Teddy, you mean? Yep. Next. Did you see Roy win that Pony Express contest? Man, I’ve been with him all my life, and never knew he could ride like that. First prize! Great, eh? Look--that man’s finished. There he goes!” The rider gave a shout and flew over the pony’s head. He was out of the race, but he arose gamely and shook his fist in mock rage at the horse that had unseated him, then walked, a trifle unsteadily, to the side. “Teddy rides now?” Mrs. Manley asked in a small voice. “Sure, Mother! An’ don’t you worry! He’ll take that bronc under his wing as easy as pie. Watch! Here he comes!” A yell went up as another rider shot out from a corner, seated on a bit of leaping horse-flesh. Roy, who stood leaning against the fence, shouted: “Stick with him, boy! Hang on! You! Atta baby! Look at him go--! Oh, look at him go! Sweet daddy! You’re sure ridin’ now, Teddy! Don’t go to leather! Yay! Ride ’im, cowboy!” And Teddy did “ride ’im.” For every trick of the squirming pony, he knew a better one. Up went his hat, and down on the bronco’s flank. He was fanning him, and the crowd, quick to realize that here was no ordinary rider, roared delightedly. Excitement reigned in the Manley box. “Oh, Mr. Manley, isn’t he _wonderful_!” “Splendid! Teddy’s splendid!” Mrs. Manley forgot her momentary fears and gave way to the occasion, cheering with the rest. “Dad, he’s sticking--he’s sticking!” shouted Belle, wild with joy and excitement. Finally the pony gave up. Head lowered, breath coming in gasps, he submitted to the guiding rein. Over to the judges’ stand the boy rode him, as easily as though he had been a saddle horse for years. Teddy had won. Roy, unable to contain himself, jumped the fence, ran into the arena, and, reaching up, grasped his brother’s hand. Those in the stand saw the occurrence, and another yell went up. Brother greeting brother--two expert riders, each a prize winner! The crowd went wild. Here was romance, real Western life. “Teddy, congrats!” Roy said. “You’re a rider, boy!”