These
people had never seen anything of that cowboy business before,
and it carried them clear off their feet with delight. From all
around and everywhere, the shout went up:
"Encore! encore!"
I wondered where they got the word, but there was no time to cipher
on philological matters, because the whole knight-errantry hive
was just humming now, and my prospect for trade couldn't have
been better. The moment my lasso was released and Sir Sagramor
had been assisted to his tent, I hauled in the slack, took my
station and began to swing my loop around my head again. I was
sure to have use for it as soon as they could elect a successor
for Sir Sagramor, and that couldn't take long where there were
so many hungry candidates. Indeed, they elected one straight off
--Sir Hervis de Revel.
_Bzz_! Here he came, like a house afire; I dodged: he passed like
a flash, with my horse-hair coils settling around his neck;
a second or so later, _fst_! his saddle was empty.
I got another encore; and another, and another, and still another.
When I had snaked five men out, things began to look serious to
the ironclads, and they stopped and consulted together. As a
result, they decided that it was time to waive etiquette and send
their greatest and best against me. To the astonishment of that
little world, I lassoed Sir Lamorak de Galis, and after him
Sir Galahad.
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