As the animal approached the rest of the cattle, it suddenly swerved to one side and made a half-circle. Then it partly stopped, and, seizing the opportunity, Dick slipped from its back to the ground.
Frank lashed his horse still harder, for he knew that Dick was now in the greatest peril of all. The cattle of the plains are used to the sight of mounted men, whom they respect and fear; but the spectacle of a human being on foot attracts them, first arousing their curiosity and then their rage. Woe to the hapless man who is thus discovered by a herd of cattle, for, unless he can quickly find shelter of some sort, he is almost certain to be charged upon, gored, and trampled.
Knowing this, Merry raced to the rescue of his brother, his heart in his throat.
The steer ran a short distance, and then turned and looked at the boy, pawing the ground. The cattle began to approach, gathering in on the lad.
“Keep still!” muttered Frank, as he again lashed his horse. “Face them, Dick—face them!”
The boy did face them at first, but they gathered thicker and thicker. One after another they began to bellow and paw the ground. Their eyes glared, and their aspect was awesome indeed.
The boy turned and moved away, upon which the herd started after him. He looked back over his shoulder and saw them coming. The bright colors in his clothes aided in arousing them. Then Dick saw Frank racing toward him, and he turned in that direction.
“Keep still!” shouted Merry. “Don’t run! don’t run!”
But the only word Dick understood was:
“Run!”