And now happened the event for which Archie was looking and for which he was prepared. The other horses crowded in upon the bay—his own would have followed had he not restrained him—and in less time than it takes to tell it the spring was full of rearing, kicking, biting animals. But they were not permitted to remain there long. The leader began to assert his authority. Raising his head with an angry snort, he sent his heels right and left to such good purpose that he quickly cleared a space about him. The instant that his head was elevated was enough for Archie. The lariat left his hand, true to its aim this time, and settling down over the bay’s neck was quickly drawn tight. Finding himself fast, the horse started to run, but the other end of the lasso was securely fastened to Archie’s saddle, and his own horse bracing himself to meet the shock, the captured steed was thrown flat on his side. The others snorted with terror and took to their heels in short order.
When Fred and Eugene arrived upon the ground they saw something exciting.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE EMIGRANT TRAIN.
“Hurrah for you, Archie!” shouted Eugene, as he and Fred came galloping up. “You’ve made sure work this time, haven’t you?”
“I told you that if I got another fair chance at him he was mine,” replied Archie. “You had a suspicion that I was shooting with a long bow, last night, when I told you that I had seen a horse help his master catch cattle, didn’t you, Fred?”
“No,” returned Featherweight, quickly. “I only thought it something wonderful.”
“I told you I had seen a horse hold a steer down while his owner butchered him, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” answered Fred.