The cattle had closed in about the lad in almost a crescent formation, Tad's position being about the center of it.
"Whoa-oo-ope! Whoa-oo-ope!" shouted Tad, taking up the cry that he had heard the cowboys utter earlier in the stampede.
His voice was lost in the roar of the storm and the thunder of the rushing herd.
Tad realized that there was only one thing left for him to do. That was to keep straight ahead and ride. He would have to ride fast, too, if he were to keep clear of the long-legged Mexican cattle.
They were descending a gradual slope that led down into a broad, sandy arroyo where still stood the rotting stumps of oak and cottonwood trees that once lined the ancient water course.
By this time the main herd lay to the rear nearly two miles, the cattle having separated into several bands. However, the lad was unaware of this.
Suddenly, in the darkness, rider and pony crashed into a dense mesquite thicket.
There was not a second to hesitate, for they were already in. The leading cattle tore in after Tad with a crashing of brush and a rattle of horns—sounds that sent a chill up and down his spine in spite of all the lad's sturdy courage.
The herd was closing in on him, leaving the boy no alternative but to go through the thicket himself, and to go fast at that.
Tad formed his plan instantly. He made up his mind to ride it out and let his pony have its own way. Yet the boy never expected to come through the mesquite thicket without being swept from his pony and trampled under the feet of the savage steers.