Both of them had been making rapid time of it since leaving that prairie village where they had eaten the last meal. Of course Jupiter had flown along at even a faster clip; but then he lost time by stopping occasionally to try some of his ancient games of bucking, so that the pursuers were able to come closer again before he took a notion, under the lashing of the busy quirt, to once more start off.
Billie had not even taken notice enough of his chums to wave a hand in their direction at any time during his furious ride. But then they could understand that easily enough, for he had to keep his attention constantly fastened upon Jupiter, lest the
curveting animal spring a sudden trick calculated to dismount his rider.
Luckily the fat boy had been very particular to always have the best of girths and other gear in connection with his riding outfit. A whole lot depends on such little things as this when trying to master the ugly spirit in one of those lively bronchos; as many a cow-puncher has learned to his sorrow when something gave way, perhaps even in the moment of his victory, and not only hurled him to the ground but spoiled all that had been thus far accomplished in regard to taming the pony.
It was plain to be seen that pure exhaustion and nothing else was causing Jupiter to give in now. He acted just as strangely as ever, but lacked the strength to hold out. And it was this fact that caused Donald to shake his head and say something to himself that undoubtedly had a bearing on the solution of the mystery, only he did not feel positive enough to communicate the same to Adrian.
But Billie had finally brought his trembling mount to a standstill. When this was accomplished the fat boy carefully threw himself to the ground, keeping a tight grip on the bridle. If Jupiter attempted to rear, or break away, he would find all that weight was as good as any anchor that could have been attached to him. He might as well have tried to move a mountain as Broncho Billie, when once he stood firmly on his two legs.
“Whatever is he doing, do you think?” demanded Adrian, as he and Donald rode forward toward the spot where their chum and his foamy mount were to be seen.
“I declare if he hasn’t thrown the saddle off!” cried Donald, and there was a ring of exultation in his voice, that seemed to announce that certain dim suspicions which he had been entertaining were duly strengthened by this queer fact.
“But he can’t mount again if Jupiter takes a sudden notion to bolt!” said Adrian.
“No danger of that happening, take my word for it,” replied Donald.