"He's crazy," muttered Chunky, going to his pony and swinging himself into the saddle.
Chunky urged the animal along faster and faster. He could hear the cowboys on beyond him though he was able to see only a few yards ahead of him. However, the boy was becoming used to riding in the dark and did not feel the same uncertainty that he had earlier.
"I'll bet they are getting ready to run away," he decided.
In that, Stacy was right. Before he realized where he was he had driven his pony full into the rear ranks of the restless cattle.
Chunky uttered a yell as he found himself bumping against the sides of the cows and sought to turn his pony about.
The startled steers nearest to him fought desperately to get away from the object that had so suddenly hurled itself against them. Instantly there was a mix-up, with bellowing, plunging steers all about him.
"Help! Help!" shouted the boy.
Now his pony was biting and kicking in an effort to free itself from the animals that were prodding it with horns and buffeting it from side to side.
Only a moment or so of this was necessary to fill the cattle with blind, unreasoning fear. With one common impulse they lunged forward. Those ahead of them felt the impetus of the thrust just as do the cars of a freight train under the sudden jolt of a starting engine.
"What's up?" roared the foreman.