It was a time of extreme peril for Roger, and no one realized it more fully than did Dave. The angry steer was still some distance away, but coming forward at his best speed. One prod from those horns and the senator's son would be killed or badly hurt.
As said before, Phil had gone on, thinking his chums would follow. He was already at the side of his horse, and speedily untied the animal, and vaulted into the saddle.
"Why, what's up?" he cried, in dismay, as he turned, to behold Roger in the hole and Dave beside him.
"Roger's foot is fast!" answered Dave. "Oh, Phil, see if you can't scare the steer off!"
"I'll do what I can," came from the shipowner's son, and rather timidly, it must be confessed, he advanced on the animal in question. He gave a loud shout and swung his arm, and the steer looked toward him and came to a halt.
"You've got your gun—if he tries to horn Roger, shoot him," went on Dave.
"I will," answered Phil, and riding still closer he swung his firearm around for action.
Dave made a hasty examination and saw that Roger's foot was caught by the toe and the heel, and would have to be turned in a side-way fashion to be loosened. He caught his chum under the arms and turned him partly over.
"Now try it," he said quickly, at the same time turning once more to look at the steer. The beast had finished his inspection of Phil and was coming forward as before, with head and horns almost sweeping the ground. Behind him trailed the long lasso, which was still fast to one of his forelegs.
"Phil! Phil!" cried Dave, suddenly. "I have it! Catch the lasso if you can and hold him back!"