Dick immediately challenged him to a test of skill at roping. Fred hesitated. He knew that it was not a good thing to fret his herd; but he finally yielded to Dick’s bantering, handed over his rope, for Dick happened to have none, and the sport began.
For an hour or more the boys kept chasing through the herd on their ponies, casting the lasso at the excited cattle. Now and again they landed well; but oftener they failed to land at all. Several times they tripped up some charging heifer rather cleverly. It was great sport,—for the boys. They so lost themselves in the fun of it that dusk was on them before they had noticed how the day was slipping away.
“Here, Dick,” called Fred, suddenly realizing the work before him to gather his scattered herd, “we’ll have to stop this business and put for home.”
“Oh, cut it, I’m goin’ to snub that black devil ’fore we quit.”
“Leave her alone,” Fred shouted, “or you’ll get into trouble.”
Dick’s response to this warning was to strike straight for the spirited heifer, his rope swinging round his head. A wicked dig of his spurs in Ginger’s ribs brought him within rope’s length. He flung at her front legs; but as luck would have it, the lasso caught round her neck. In a flash Dick wound the rope round his saddle horn, his pony checked speed, stopped short, and braced himself; the heifer was jerked squarely about; but maddened with fright at being suddenly snubbed, she flung back and struggled frantically to free herself from the strangling rope. Dick was in a dilemma. He could not let go without losing the lariat and the heifer wouldn’t let him slip it off.
Fred dashed up to help him, and jumped off Brownie to loose the lasso, but just as he reached to grab hold of it at the choking heifer’s neck, she plunged wildly; and Dick, taken unawares, let slip his hold. The rope scorched through his fingers. The heifer, finding herself free, dashed away through a thicket of willows, dragging the lariat. Before Fred could leap on Brownie she had disappeared.
“Go it, you bitch, go!” shouted Dick, nursing his rope-burnt fingers.
“Let’s get her quick,” called Fred; “she’ll get tangled and kill herself in that brush.”
“Oh, to hell with her! I’m not going to scratch my eyes out in that thicket to-night. Let ’er go; she’ll turn up all right. Let’s rustle the rest and hike for camp. I’m hungry.”