Who could these strangers be? He was about to
ride faster and overtake one of the other herders
and ask, when the thunder seemed to split the firmament
right over the valley. A vivid blue flash lit
up the whole arena.
Walter saw one of the group of strange horsemen dash
down toward the cattle, flying a slicker high over
his head. This horseman made a frightful object
charging along the front of the already uneasy steers.
The latter wheeled. With loud bellowings and
a thunder of hoofs, the herd started east—started
full pelt for the narrow opening between the two hollows.
It was a stampede! Walter had heard of such catastrophes;
but he had never dreamed that a charging herd of cattle
could make so fearful an appearance. His own
horse snorted, jumped about, and started to run away
with him; and pull at the bit as Walter did, he could
not at once gain control of the terrified little beast.
WHO ARE THEY?
The encampment of Steve’s outfit, and therefore
the tent in which the four girls were sheltered, was
on the side of the hill to the south of the narrow
path connecting the twin valleys. It seemed as
though the chuck wagon and tent, as well as the horse
corral, were well out of the path of the charging
cattle.
But when Nan Sherwood and her companions, awakened
by the louder peal of thunder, gazed out of the tent
opening and gained, by aid of the lightning, their
initial glimpse of the stampede, it seemed as though
a thousand bellowing throats and twice that number
of tossing horns threatened the encampment.
“Grab your things and get out this way!”
shouted Rhoda, leading the retreat through the rear
of the tent.
Fortunately the girls had not taken off more than
their outer clothing and their boots. They had
no cots during this outing, but used sleeping-bags
instead. Seizing such of their possessions as
they could find in the dark, they followed Rhoda out
at the rear and up the hillside.
From below the pandemonium of sound of the enraged
and terrified cattle was all but deafening. At
the corral the men who had been off watch were mounting
their ponies. The girls heard Steve’s stentorian
voice shouting to Hesitation Kane:
“Can we swing ’em before they clog that
cut into the other hollow, Hess?”
“Nope!” and to the girls’ surprise
the horse wrangler snapped out the answer. “Shoot
the leaders and pile ’em up in the gap.
Then swing ’em.”
“Oh, I don’t want to do that,” yelled
Steve. “The boss will have a fit.
Who started this thing, anyway? That fool boy?”
“Oh! where is Walter?” gasped Grace.
But another cowboy from down below shouted:
“It’s a put up job. I saw somebody
start ’em. They’ve been stampeded,
Steve.”
The next moment the hullabaloo of the cattle themselves
made human voices unbearable. A flash of lightning
showed the front of the herd as it charged up the
slight rise to the mouth of the cut.
