“The cattle are running!” cried Connie. “The boys never will be able to hold them in this storm!”
“We must get out there and help,” Enid shouted grimly.
This time Connie did not refuse her aid. Before she could saddle Silvertail, Enid vanished into the night. Cecil and Helena, awakened by the sudden downpour, called to Connie, but she paid no heed. Pulling on her slicker, she leaped into the saddle and followed Enid.
The rain was coming down in torrents and another brilliant flash of lightning momentarily revealed a surging mass of steers. The terrified animals were running away from the camp toward the canyon. The earth shook under the pounding of their hooves.
All thought of the important revelation which Enid had been upon the point of making at the time the storm broke, had been swept from Connie’s mind. But she felt warmed by the girl’s generous offer of aid. Enid really was her friend after all. In this emergency, any feeling of resentment had been forgotten. The stampede called for quick action and courageous riding.
Connie did not need to dig in the rowels of her spurs for Silvertail knew what was expected of him. She could feel his mighty heart pounding against her legs as he raced to overtake the leaders of the herd.
Connie bent low over Silvertail’s neck, trusting that there were no fences or badger holes ahead. Should her horse stumble she would be badly injured if not crushed to death.
Through the rain the girl saw someone riding ahead of her. She could not tell who it was, but a man turned in his saddle and shouted something at her. She did not distinguish a word above the roar. Farther away a rider was firing his revolver into the air, trying to stem the tide.
Connie, Alkali, and the boys from the Slocer Ranch outdistanced the leaders of the herd, fighting valiantly to turn them. The cattle had run less than a half mile when they began to circle.
“They’re starting to mill!” Connie shouted.