“Ugh! Heap bones! Stumble much, fall down mountain, break Nomad neck. Ugh!”
The party stood near the corral watching a pony race as the entries scored down to the mark and were to sweep away across the plain for a mile. Forty men were in saddle in the race. Others had galloped far down the course, and few were left about the ranch.
Buffalo Bill and Carson, the proprietor, were cantering leisurely down the field, and the new bride had climbed to the seat of a prairie schooner to watch the contest, rather than to remain longer in the saddle.
“Tell yer what I’ll do, Piute; I’ll race yer down behind ther crowd ter see ther run, an’ if yer git thar fust I’ll buy yer ther purtiest young cannon in Bozeman.”
“Ugh!” acquiesced Cayuse, and the pair mounted and rode away.
Skibo was tired of riding, and disposed his form against the corral fence in as comfortable position as possible. He heard an uproar among the cows and horses within, but before he could arise to investigate there came a terrific crash, and a great Texan bull burst from the inclosure.
Excited first by the shouting and shooting, and then infuriated by the glimpse of darting ponies and the cheers of the men as the field got away, the animal in its frantic plunging had broken loose, dashed through the herd, and swept the fence away like a row of jackstraws.
The first thing that caught the brute’s eye when he had gained liberty was a straw stack. He darted at it with lowered head, and amused himself for a moment by goring it. Then he turned and saw the white-covered wagon with the frightened young woman upon it, and dangling from one of the wheels the bright red pontiac of a miner.
The animal had really considered the straw stack a joke, and seemed to be at play, but that red coat set his passions aflame. With a maddened roar he pawed the earth and sent the gravel flying high in air.
Several cowpunchers far down the field heard the commotion and recognized its import at once. They put spurs to their ponies and tore madly back, yet they knew they could not hope to reach roping or even shooting distance before the fierce brute would charge the schooner with its helpless cargo—the fair bride they had come to honor.