Tad shook out the rein, at the same time giving a gentle pressure to the rowels of his spurs.
Maddened almost beyond endurance, the pony started at a furious pace, not pausing until more than a mile had been covered. When he did bring up it was with disconcerting suddenness.
"Whoa, boy!" soothed Tad, patting the little animal on the neck. Again the wide-open mouth reached for the lad's left leg. But this time Tad pressed in the spurs on the right side. The pony tried to bite that way, whereat its rider spurred it on the left side.
This was continued until, at least, in sheer desperation, the animal started again to run. He found that he was not interfered with in this effort. However, when he sought to unseat his rider by brushing against the trunk of a large tree, he again felt the sting of the quirt on his flank.
Gradually Tad now began to work the animal around. After a time he succeeded in doing this, and was soon headed for camp. They bore down, at great speed, to where the cowboys were swinging their hats and setting up a shout that carried far over the plain.
Tad's face was flushed with pride. Yet he did not allow himself for an instant to forget his work. The lad's whole attention was centered on the pony under him. He was determined to make a grand finish that, while exhibiting his horsemanship, would at the same time give the pony a lesson not soon to be forgotten.
"You've got him!" cried Ned Rector as Tad approached, now at a gallop, the animal's ears lying back angrily.
"Don't be too sure," answered Big-foot. "See them ears? That means more trouble."
It came almost before the words were out of the cowpuncher's mouth.
The broncho stiffened, its hoofs ploughing little trails in the soft dirt of the plain as it skidded to a stop. The jolt might have unhorsed Tad Butler had he not been expecting it from some indications that he read in the animal's actions.