The rose-light of the flames showed the spectators all this—the black smooch of the fire-scathed land behind the barrier of flame, the flitting figures on horseback at the foot of the ridge, and the herd of steers going over the rise toward the north—and the higher foothills.
“But what can they do?” gasped Ruth.
“They’re back-firing,” Tom said, holding in his pony. Tom was a good horseman and it was evident that Jane Ann was astonished at his riding. “But over yonder where they tried it, the flames jumped ahead through the long grass and drove the men into their saddles again.”
“See what those fellows are doing!” gasped Madge, standing up. “They’re roping those cattle—isn’t that what you call it, roping?”
“And hog-tieing them,” responded Jane Ann, eagerly. “That’s Jib—and Bashful Ike. There! that’s an axe Ike’s got. He’s going to slice up that steer.”
“Oh, dear me! what for?” cried Helen.
“Why, the butchering act—right here and now?” demanded Heavy. “Aren’t thinking of having a barbecue, are they?”
“You watch,” returned the Western girl, greatly excited. “There! they’ve split that steer.”
“I hope it’s the big one that bunted the automobile,” cried The Fox.
“Well, you can bet it ain’t,” snapped Jane Ann. “Old Trouble-Maker is going to yield us some fun at brandin’ time—now you see.”