"Every way, but the most of them keep their heads in that direction," said Loring, waving his arm toward the south.
"Call everybody in camp while I speak to Bob and Mr. Wentworth. No noise now. I am afraid we are going to have trouble."
In less than two minutes all the troopers had been aroused, and George was holding an earnest consultation with Mr. Wentworth and the corporal. "I've seen cattle act that way before," said he, speaking as rapidly as he could make his tongue move, for time was precious; "and if we were a little nearer the river I could easily tell what is the matter with them; but I never heard of the Greasers coming so far into the country as this, and it may be nothing but nervousness that's troubling them. My advice would be to mount the men and move them quietly in line on the north side of the herd, and perhaps by making such a show of numbers we can keep them within bounds until they are quieted down.—What do you say, Mr. Wentworth?"
"It is the only thing that can be done," replied Mr. Wentworth, who seemed to be greatly excited and alarmed; "and even that is a slim chance.—Make haste, corporal. Do all you can for me, for if I lose this herd I shall be ruined, sure enough."
"Catch up!" commanded Bob.
"Look here," said George, seizing his friend by the shoulder and speaking with all the earnestness he could throw into his tones: "if you get in line in front of those cattle, and they start to run toward you, don't try to stop them, for you can't do it, any more than we could stop those buffaloes the other night. Run before them, and gradually draw off to the right or left of them, and you will get safely off; otherwise they will certainly run over you. But I am afraid it is too late to do anything," added George as he noted the increasing restlessness of the cattle.
"It is too late! it is too late!" exclaimed Mr. Wentworth, rubbing his hands nervously together. "There they go!"
Even as he spoke a noise like the rumbling of distant thunder sounded in their ears, and instantly the whole herd made off at the top of its speed. Looking over the mass of horns and tails that was tossed wildly in the air, the troopers were horrified to see Phillips standing directly in front of it. Being fully determined to do his duty to the utmost, the brave fellow sat in his saddle, swinging his arms about his head, and no doubt shouting at the top of his voice to stop the advance of the frightened herd, which was bearing down upon him with the resistless power of an avalanche.
"The man is crazy!" cried George in great alarm. Then, raising both hands to his face and using them as a speaking-trumpet, he yelled, with all the power of his lungs,
"Run! run for your life!"