Gale, rope in hand, found her way to the corral where Jim, she knew him by no other name, the cowboy who was to accompany the girls on their trip, was waiting to give her her first lesson with the use of her lasso. She learned first to make the slip knot, how to coil her rope, then how to grasp it for throwing.
“I never knew there was so much to it,” she declared after an hour had flown by.
“It won’t take you long to learn,” he assured her.
A little while later Mr. Wilson appeared and had an errand for Jim to do. Gale wandered off by herself across the valley and up the hillside. The sun was warm and it was tiring work climbing through the grass and tangled undergrowth, so when she came to a tree which offered a large patch of shade from the sun she sank down to rest. Pretty soon she lay back, her arms under her head, gazing up at the little spot of blue sky that she could see through the branches of the tree.
Gale did not know when she fell asleep or for how long she slept, but when she opened her eyes the sun was blazing down into her face. It must be hours she thought instantly since she had sat down here to rest for a few minutes. Then the thought of what had awakened her made her prop herself up on an elbow and gaze around.
Her throat went suddenly dry and a half smothered scream rose to her lips. It had been a heavy pressure on her right leg that had brought her back from her dreams, and now as she looked down at her foot horror overcame her. Its scaly body wound about her boot, the flat head swaying from side to side, was a huge rattlesnake. Gale dropped back on the grass with closed eyes, trying to erase from her mind the sight of that reptile, the bite of which meant death.
What was she to do? Scream? There was no one about to hear her. She was too far from the ranch house to summon help by calling aloud. Raising her head a few inches she took one look and let it drop back again. The gimlet eyes of the snake were coming closer. It would not be long before it struck, or had it done so already? It could scarcely send its poisonous fangs through her heavy boot, she reminded herself desperately. But what was she to do? Nothing, she told herself hopelessly, a sinking in her heart. There was nothing she could do. She might struggle for her freedom, but she could not hope to avoid the darting, poisonous fangs of the snake. It would surely strike soon, and when it did----
She caught her underlip between two rows of white teeth to quell the groan of helplessness. Tears of impotence sprang to her eyes. If only there were something she could do--some way she could---- Was it her imagination or did she hear a sound? Quickly she raised her head and a voice spoke from behind her.
“Don’t move! Keep quiet!” the man, for it was a man’s voice, commanded.
Gale wondered hysterically if he expected her to do anything else. She couldn’t move if she wanted to. Terror made her lifeless.