Jack gently disengaged his foot from the stirrup, and made his friend comfortable. Then he turned to look about him, and at once an exclamation escaped him.
"Look!" he cried. "They're returning. Something seems to have caused the herd to swing round, and they're chargin' back this way."
A flush came to the hunter's face as he heard the news, and with an obvious effort he managed to turn his head. Then he called to Jack, and spoke quietly.
"Yer'd best be going," he said earnestly. "That mob's less than half a mile away, and ef they're coming along as they was a few minutes ago, they'll be here afore yer can look round. Ef they find yer still on this spot yer best friend won't know yer when they're gone. Best git, slippy. So long!"
"And you?" asked Jack, casting another glance towards the herd, which, for some unexplained reason had undoubtedly turned, and was charging back over the ground it had so recently covered. "And what about you, Steve?" he asked. "Would your best friend be able to recognize you any better than mine would be?"
"Shucks! Ye're talkin', and wastin' valuable time," growled Steve. "Yer kin see it's a case with me. I'm done fer, and I don't mind if no one can recognize me. Ye git, and precious slippy. Yer ain't got too much time ter clear even now."
"And desert you, the man who has been so friendly to me," said Jack. "Never! I'll do my best to carry him off. Can you hold anything, Steve?" he asked, kneeling beside the helpless hunter.
"Yer bet. Give us yer hand. Thar. So long!"
Steve gripped Jack's hand firmly, and then thrust him away. "Didn't I tell yer to be goin'?" he cried angrily. "The chances aer ye'll not do it even now. Them beasts is coming quicker'n yer kin gallop. Aer yer a fool?"
"Get a hold round my neck," cried Jack, bending lower over him. "Quickly! You're only wasting my time and yours by hesitating. There! Grip hard. I'm going to get into my saddle."