Frank walked with his lame pony to the ranch house.  Here he found his chums in a fright because of his absence.  They were afraid he had been caught in the mad stampede and ground under the hoofs of the steers.

Mr. Mabie did not show up until long after midnight.  The storm had passed away, and the sky cleared by that time.  The boys were sitting up, waiting, none of them thinking of seeking his bed.

“Hello, Frank, my lad!  I’m mighty glad to find you here, safe and sound.  I saw your pony at the stable, and that you had bound up his leg, showing a sprain.  But I was afraid that something more serious had been the matter.  You don’t know how relieved I was to see your horse; and Reddy, too.  The poor fellow has been in a sweat with fear ever since the stampede broke out,” was the hearty way the rancher greeted Frank as he came bustling in.

“Oh, I was right in the line of the rush, but by clever work on the part of my pony managed to reach the trees before they caught me.  But what’s the report about the cattle, sir?” asked Frank eagerly.

“The boys have halted them about ten miles from here.  Thanks to the storm stopping, and the animals getting leg weary, we managed to head them off.  Little damage done, except to our feelings.  These things happen once in a while, and are really unavoidable.  Steers in a panic are crazy; but then I suppose the same would apply to human beings, if all accounts are true that I read about theater fires and such things.”

He asked many questions concerning Frank’s adventure.

“You just happened to choose the wrong side, lad.  Had you headed the other way you would have had little trouble.  The storm came from that quarter, and a cowboy must have known that cattle always run away from the lightning and rain.  But fortunately you made the timber, and; as the subject is unpleasant, we’ll drop it for the present.  Now get off to bed, the lot of you.  In the morning, if you want, I’ll take you down with me, and show you how we drive a big herd.”

“I’ve got my last roll of films in the camera, and that would make a mighty fine set of pictures to finish up with; but, oh! what wouldn’t I give if I could have caught Frank, here, riding for life on that crippled pony, and the stampede sweeping down on him!” said Will enthusiastically.

“Talk to me about your cold-blooded savages!  Does anything equal a crank with a camera, bent on snapping off everything that happens?” muttered Jerry, shaking his head in real or assumed disgust.

“That is the fate of every genius, to be misunderstood and misrepresented when ready to sacrifice comfort and everything to his art.  But I am not the only one who is a crank.  I have known fellows so proud of their lungs, that night after night they insisted on filling the air mattresses of the party just to prove which could blow the harder; while the other two members of the party sat by and laughed.”