“Go it, boy!” Gale urged her horse.
The horse darted forward. Behind her the rope pulled the cougar clear from Jim. The pony sped down the trail, its rider bent low in the saddle, the rope dragging the squirming, struggling mountain lion over the stony ground. Gale did not slow her mount till she was sure that the animal was dead. Then she turned her horse and trotted him slowly back to the group.
Tom and Virginia were busy with Jim. The cowboy’s shirt hung in ribbons, and the flesh of his shoulders and arms was streaming with blood. He had a long scratch along his cheek, but otherwise he was safe and sound.
“Never thought that rope trainin’ would come in so handy,” he grinned at her. “Reckon I owe you a heap for pullin’ that fella offa me, Miss Gale.”
“Is he dead?” Janet asked tremulously with a glance for the dust covered thing at the end of Gale’s rope.
“If he isn’t, he ought to be,” Gale replied, dismounting. “Are you hurt much, Jim?”
The cowboy insisted that they should not stop their day’s ride on his account. After Tom’s first aid treatment had been administered and Jim remounted his horse, they started forward again. Tom had cut the cougar loose from Gale’s rope and pulled him to one side of the trail.
“That’s what I like about the country out here,” Janet said to no one in particular. “Always something doing. Any time at all you might step on a rattlesnake or get jumped on by a ferocious animal. Nice country!” she declared with a grin.
“Pleasant thoughts you have,” Carol laughed. “It’s no worse than back home. There we have to dodge street cars and taxi cabs.”
“Give me the taxi cabs,” Madge murmured. “They at least give you a warning.”