Stella turned in time and fled, and had it not been for the fleetness of her pony and her own superb riding, there had been no more to relate of the adventures of the girl pard of the Moon Valley boys.
The morning of the round-up Ted undertook personally to turn the herd to the rendezvous.
Stella insisted upon accompanying him, and at last he was persuaded to give his consent, but only on the condition that she wear subdued colors, which she did, with skirt and jacket of a light-dun color.
The herd was grazing in the noble range that stretched for miles along and across the valley in the shadow of the splendid mountain.
It was widely scattered, and as the band of horsemen rode out toward it the cattle lifted their heads for a moment and took a quiet survey, then returned to their feeding.
Not so Gladiator.
The great white-and-black bull raised his head proudly, and his fierce, steady eyes regarded them without fear.
Indeed, Gladiator knew no fear, whether of man or beast, wolf pack or mountain lion, serpent or bird of prey.
He was monarch of that herd, and no one said him nay except Ted Strong, who ruled the ranch and all that was on it, by the general consent of his comrades and his own fitness for his rulership.
Ted and Gladiator had had numerous differences, and it was the bull that had backed down every time.