"We can get over the ground now," said Dick. "Let's go out and look at these animals."
They counted eight dead cows, their unwieldy carcasses lying motionless on the burned grass.
"Probably killed by the hot air that they drew into their lungs," commented Tom Reade.
"We killed the poor beasts," said Danny Grin, with a catch in his breath.
"Perhaps we did," Dick admitted. "But we had to do something. Anyhow, we broke the force of the stampede, and, if that hadn't been checked, a still greater number of cows would have been killed. They would have fallen, exhausted, and then they would have been trampled on and killed by the plunging cattle behind them."
"That's true enough," nodded Tom. "Even if we did kill a few,
I guess we're more entitled to praise than reproach."
Two more cows presently got up and limped away, but there were four others still alive, yet too badly hurt to attend to themselves.
Nor could the high school boys help, further than by carrying buckets of water to the suffering animals. Dick & Co. had no firearms along, and could not put the injured cows out of their misery.
"Now, let's get out of here," urged Dick at last. "We can't do any good here, and this is no pleasant sight to gaze upon."
"It seems too bad to leave all this prime roast beef on the ground, doesn't it?" hinted Tom. "And we fellows have such good appetites."