"If Molick doesn't kick up a row," observed Mr. Carson.
"Yes, of course we've got to look out for him. But I think—"
Mr. Bellmore never finished his sentence.
"Look out, Dave!" he yelled, as if he could warn the lad who was riding toward the rushing steer.
"Oh! Oh!" gasped Mr. Carson.
The next instant they both saw the trailing rope on the steer's head tangle around the legs of Dave's pony. The plucky Crow made a brave effort to keep his feet. But a moment later he went down heavily in a cloud of dust with his rider, while the maddened steer, brought up short, reared and seemed to fall backward on pony and cowboy.
CHAPTER XII
THE FIGHT
With one bound, it seemed, Mr. Carson leaped away from the side of his invalid guest, and was in the saddle of his favorite pony, that had been standing near the chuck wagon.
"He's killed!" was the thought that came instantly into the mind of Mr.
Bellmore. "No rider could suffer such a fall, and live!"