She saw Ratty M’Gill on the black pony flying ahead of the steers; but what could one man do to turn two thousand head of wild cattle? Frances of the ranges had appreciated the peril which threatened to the full and at first glance.
The prostrate carcase of the huge steer would serve to break the wave of cattle due to pass over this spot within a very few moments. If Baldface got up, shook off the entangling rope and ran, Frances and Pratt would be utterly helpless.
Once under the hoofs of the herd, they would be pounded into the prairie like powder, before the tail of the stampede had passed.
Frances, seeing the attempts of the big steer to climb to its feet, ran forward and seized the rope that had slipped through the ring of her saddle. She drew in the slack at once; but her strength was not sufficient to drag the steer back to earth.
Snorting and bellowing, the huge beast was all but on his feet when Pratt Sanderson reached the girl’s side.
Pratt was staggering, for the shock of his fall had been severe. He understood her, however, when she cried:
“Jump on it, Pratt! Jump on it!”
The young man leaped, landing with both feet on the taut rope. Frances, at the same instant, threw herself backward, digging her heels into the sod.
The shock of the tightening of the rope, therefore, fell upon the steer. Down he went bellowing angrily, for he had not cast off the noose that entangled him.
“Don’t let him get loose, Pratt! Stand on the rope!” commanded Frances.