"Well, sometimes they do and sometimes they don't," answered the cowboy. "It all depends. Out here on the plain, where there isn't any high land or cliffs for them to topple over, there isn't much danger. The cattle will run until they get tired out. But, of course, some of 'em get stepped on and hurt, and that's bad. And sometimes our cattle get mixed in with another herd, when they stampede this way, and it's hard to get 'em unmixed again. But we're going to take you two boys to the ranch house, and then we'll try to stop the stampede. What were you doing out here, anyhow?"
"Looking at the spring," answered Russ. "It's gone dry again."
"Has it?" asked the cowboy. "Then that means we'll lose more cattle, I reckon. Maybe the men started this stampede."
"No, I think this stampede was started by Indians," said the cowboy who had Laddie, and who had just ridden up alongside Russ in order to speak to "his cowboy" as Russ afterward called him.
"Indians!" cried Russ.
"Yes. Sometimes they come off the reservation, and start to travel to see some of their friends. A band of Indians will stampede a bunch of cattle as soon as anything else."
"Could we see the Indians?" asked Laddie.
"Well, maybe you can, if they come to the ranch. Some do to get something to eat," was the answer. "But hold tight now, we've got to ride faster, if we want to get help in time to stop the runaway cattle."
So the two little boys held tightly to the horn, which is that part of the saddle which was directly in front of them. This horn is what the cowboys fasten their lassos around when they catch a wild steer or a pony.
Behind the boys could be heard the thunder of the hoofs of the stampeding steers. They were running close together, and, even in the half-darkness of the evening, a big cloud of dust raised by the many feet could be seen.