“There they come!” said one of the cow punchers just then.
Out from the shadows of the coulie burst a string of cattle on the run. They had been started with difficulty, but once the excitement began to work there would be no restraining them until weariness caused them to stop their flight.
Chunky was eagerly watching to see how they turned. He doubtless anticipated that one or more of the rustlers would be seeking to head off, and then would be the time to open fire, so as to create a small-sized panic among the cattle raiding crowd.
“Gee whiz! but I’m awonderin’ what this beast’ll do when I let go with the gun right over his head!” Jimmy remarked just about that time, which seemed to indicate that he believed he had cause for worry.
“Keep a tight hold of your bridle; that’s all you can do,” the scout master advised, without removing his eyes from the picture that was enlarging with each passing second, as more cattle came running out of the coulie, and followed the leaders.
From the midst of the lowing herd there suddenly burst two horsemen. They were swinging their hats, waving their arms, and evidently shouting at the top of their shrill voices, with the object of turning the running herd in the direction they wished it to go.
Many miles lay between Washout Coulie and the ranch buildings, and there was little danger that this racket might be carried there on the wings of the wind; even though it were faintly heard, chances were that the punchers would conclude not to bother, under the impression that it must be a round-up on some neighboring stock farm.
“Now! give’em Hail Columbia!”
Ned could hear Chunky shouting these words, or something that sounded very similar. He was paying little attention to anything that was said, however, for his whole mind seemed to be taken up with following the rapid drama that was being unfolded before his eyes.
There began to sound the discharge of firearms. Arizona Tom, Dutch and Chunky each took a shot, and Jimmy not to be outdone, managed to get his gun half-way to his shoulder before he pulled the trigger. Then his calico pony began to act in such an extraordinary manner that it took all Jimmy’s attention, and for the time being he did not care a particle whether the two rustlers ran away, or were made to bite the dust, for it was a case of winding his arms around the neck of that bucking broncho or else measuring his length on the ground, after flying for a dozen or two feet through the atmosphere.