Frances was out of her saddle the next moment, and ran back to where Pratt lay. She knew Molly would remain fixed in the place she was left, and sagging back on the rope.
The girl seized the young man under his armpits and started to drag him toward the fallen steer. The bulk of Old Baldface would prove a protection for them. The herd would break and swerve to either side of the big steer.
But one thing went wrong in Frances’ calculations. Her rope slipped at the saddle. For some reason it was not fastened securely.
The straining Molly went over backward, kicking and squealing as the rope gave way, and the big steer began to struggle to his feet.
CHAPTER VIII
IN PERIL AND OUT
Pratt Sanderson had begun to realize the situation. As Frances’ pony fell and squealed, he scrambled to his knees.
“Save yourself, Frances!” he cried. “I am all right.”
She left him; but not because she believed his statement. The girl saw the bald-faced steer staggering to its feet, and she knew their salvation depended upon the holding of the bad-tempered brute.
The stampeded herd was fast coming down upon them; afoot, she nor Pratt could scarcely escape the hoofs and horns of the cattle.