Behind him trailed the long lasso, which was still fast to one
of his forelegs.
"Phil! Phil!" cried Dave, suddenly. "I have it! Catch the lasso if you
can and hold him back!"
"I will--if I can," was the ready response. And making a semicircle the
shipowner's son came up behind the steer, leaped to the ground, caught
hold of the lasso, and sprang back into the saddle, almost as quick as
it takes to tell it. Then he made the rope fast to his pommel and turned
his horse back.
The steer was but two yards away from Roger and Dave when the rope on
his foreleg suddenly tightened, and he found himself brought to a halt.
He gave a wild snort, and, just as Roger found himself at liberty, he
turned and gazed angrily at Phil and his steed. Then he charged in that
direction.
"Ride for it, Phil!" called Dave, but this warning was unnecessary, for
the shipowner's son was already galloping across the field as rapidly as
the nature of the ground permitted. The horse easily kept the lasso
taut, thus worrying the steer not a little.
By Dave's aid Roger managed to hobble to where the other horses were
tethered, and soon both boys were in the saddle and riding after Phil
and the steer.
"I guess the steer is getting winded," said Dave, coming closer.
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