Sometimes, from practically no
cause whatever, a herd of cattle will start on a wild run, going they
know not where, and carrying all down before them.
What had started the present stampede did not interest the youth, but he
was interested in the question of how he might get out of the herd's
way, so that he would not be run down and trodden to a jelly. To scare
the leaders off might be easy, but would not those in the rear push on
until he was simply overwhelmed?
"I've got to get away somehow!" he reasoned, and turned his pony at
right angles to the approaching cattle. For the moment the bronco seemed
too frightened to budge, but at a cry from Dave, he leaped forward, and
then went streaking across the prairies as if he knew his life and that
of his rider depended on his speed.
It was now a race for life, for the cattle were still moving in
something of a semicircle, and Dave did not know whether or not he would
be able to clear the end of the line before it reached him. He called to
the pony, but this was unnecessary, for the bronco evidently understood
the peril fully as well as his rider.
Suddenly, when it looked as if pony and youth could not escape, Dave
heard a whistle float across the prairie. Looking in the direction, he
made out the form of Sid Todd, riding like the wind toward him.
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