The battle was on instantly. Tad knew it was coming, but he did not think it would be directed at him this time, though he realized that he would have to protect his companion at any cost.
Choking and sputtering, Bud made a blind lunge at Tad, his eyes being so full of muddy water that he could barely make out the slender form of the Pony Rider Boy.
Tad ducked and dodged, hoping that Stevens would tire of pursuing him in a moment. The lad might have called to the others over by the camp, but he was too proud to do that. He would fight his own battles, no matter what the odds were against him.
"I've got to get in," muttered the lad. "He's seeing clearer every minute, and the longer I wait the less chance I'll have of getting out with a whole skin.
"I'm coming, kiddie!" roared Bud.
Tad made no reply.
Stooping as if for a spring, Butler launched himself straight at the pillar of brawn and muscle before him. Had he hesitated for the briefest part of a second—had he permitted those muscular arms to close about him, Tad Butler would have gone down to a quick and inglorious defeat.
But he did not wait.
The lad's right arm was brought sharply against the neck of his adversary, while at the same time his left arm was slipped under the cowboy's right leg. The result was that Stevens lurched to the left. A quick jerk and Bud was fairly lifted from the ground.
Tad gave a quick, forceful tug.