"Just a minute—we'll rope him!" cried the foreman. But the trouble was that the cowboys nearest the scene had just pulled their lariat from the branded beast and the ropes were not coiled in readiness for throwing. The foreman himself had left his at the ranch house.
On rushed Mr. Bunn. On came the steer, and only a little way behind the actor. The distance was lessening every second.
"He ought to be on a horse—then he wouldn't have any trouble," declared the foreman. "Lively there, Buster—get that critter!"
"Right away, Pete," was the answer as the cowboy coiled his rope for a throw. Then, galloping his pony up behind the steer, Buster threw the lariat over the head of the animal, and brought it with a thud to the ground.
"Oh, am I safe?" gasped Mr. Bunn as he sank down on some saddles that had been removed from the horses.
"You're all right now," Paul assured him. "But it certainly was a lively time while it lasted."
"That's so," agreed Russ, who had not deserted his camera. "But why didn't you run toward me while you were at it. I could have made better pictures then."
"Do you—do you mean to say you took a film of me running away from that—that cow?" panted Mr. Bunn, who had lost his tall silk hat early in the chase.
"Well, I just couldn't help it," confessed Russ. "It was too good to miss. I think I got most of it."
"Where's Mr. Pertell?" demanded Mr. Bunn, getting up quickly. "I want to see the manager at once."