Had not Merriwell been an expert horseman that accident might have been fatal. He shot over the head of the horse, having managed to free his feet from the stirrups with the quickness of thought itself. Striking on his feet, he managed to keep up for two springs, and, when he did fall, he regained an upright position and wheeled so swiftly that it was almost impossible to say that he had been down at all.
As the horse rose Dick had the creature by the bit and was talking soothingly to it.
Having uttered an exclamation of dismay, Buckhart reined in as soon as possible and turned about. An expression of relief shot over his rugged face as he saw his friend on his feet, holding the frightened horse by the bit.
“Good work!” shouted the delighted Texan. “It certain takes more than a little thing like that to put you down and out, partner.”
Dick managed to fling himself into the saddle. As his feet found the stirrups once more, he waved his hand to Buckhart.
Brad wheeled his own horse as Merriwell came alongside, and they were off again, making for the rise beyond the hollow.
Dick, however, quickly made an unpleasant discovery. His horse had been injured, and quickly showed signs of lameness as they struck the rise. In fact, the creature limped and betrayed signs of distress, beginning to fall back.
“Hard luck, Brad!” said Dick. “The beast is hurt, and will be scarcely able to hobble in a few moments.”
The other boy drew up somewhat, turning his head to anxiously regard his friend’s faltering mount.
“That’s right,” he said. “At first I reckoned you both had come through all right. If the horse is that lame as quick as this, it will be plumb done up in ten minutes’ time.”