"Yip!" answered Tad, though more to the pony than in answer to them.
Down went the pony's head between his forward legs, his hind hoofs beating a tattoo in the air.
The feet came down as suddenly as they had gone up. Instantly the little animal began a series of stiff-legged leaps into the air, his curving back making it a very uncomfortable place to sit on.
Tad's head was jerked back and forth until it seemed as though his neck would be broken.
"Look out for the side jump!" warned the foreman.
It came almost instantly, and with a quickness that nearly unhorsed the plucky lad.
As it was, the swift leap to the right threw Tad half way over on the beast's left side. Fortunately, the lad gripped the pommel with his right hand as he felt himself going, and little by little he pulled himself once more to an upright posture.
All at once the animal took a leap into the air, coming down headed in the opposite direction.
Tad's head swam. He no longer heard the shouts of encouragement from the cowpunchers. He was clinging desperately to his insecure seat, with legs pressed tightly against the pony's sides. As yet he had not seen fit to use the rowels.
There came a pause which was almost as disconcerting as had been the previous rapid movements.
"He's going to throw himself! Don't get caught under him!" bellowed Big-foot.
Tad was thankful for the suggestion, for he was not looking for that move at the moment.
The pony struck the ground on its left side with a bump that made the animal grunt. Tad, however, forewarned, had freed his left foot from the stirrup and was standing easily over his fallen mount, eyes fixed on the beast's ears, ready to resume his position at the first sign of a quiver of those ears.
Like a flash the animal was on its feet again, but with Tad riding in the saddle, a satisfied smile on his face. Once more the awful, nerve-racking bucking began. It did not seem as if a human being could survive that series of violent antics, and least of all a mere boy.
All at once the animal came up on its hind legs.
Tad knew instinctively what it meant. He did not need the warning cry of the cowpunchers to tell him what the pony was about to do. Over went the broncho on its back, rolling to its side quickly.