"Good! Good! Give it to them!" fairly screamed the lad, rising in his stirrups, waving his hat and continuing his words of encouragement to the men of Mr. Simms's outfit. What mattered it whether they could hear him or not? A rattling fire was running along both lines of men. But the sheep killers, now content to ride down the sheep, were shooting back at their assailants.
"Somebody will be killed, I know," cried Tad. "Who's there?" he roared, as he heard the hoof beats of a running pony behind him.
"It's me, Chunky," came the answer.
"Get out of here, boy. You will be killed."
"I can't. I'm afraid to stay back there in the camp all alone.
Hicks has gone too and——"
"Then get back down the line and help me to hold these sheep. Don't
give anyone a chance to say a Pony Rider Boy is afraid of anything.
How'd you like to be over there where those guns are going off?
Now, brace up. Look cheerful and tend to those sheep the same as
Barker is doing."
Thus admonished, Stacy did brace up.
"All right," he said, pulling himself together and turning his pony about.
In the meantime the shouting had increased in volume and the shooting was more rapid. Tad had all he could do to hold the sheep in place. He knew that up above him they were rushing wildly here and there, and the wave of terror rolled over those in his immediate vicinity.
"They're beating them back!" cried the boy. "The cowboys are giving way. Hooray!"