The animal in a perfect fury tried to hurl its antagonist off, and to trample, and gore the powerful man, who stooped to no form of torture to win the mastery.
Forward and back they surged, the negro’s great neck muscles standing out as he clung to the horns of the bull, and gradually forced the shaggy head to an acute angle, the nose pointing to one side and the horns another.
All the giant’s weight and great strength were thrown into this feat, and, like bands of steel, the muscles of the bare, walnut-colored arms held every inch gained.
The nose of the brute was now near the earth, and in that unnatural position both seeing and breathing were difficult. The animal’s breath came in hoarse, wheezy snorts, and he staggered as he plunged about, always endeavoring to throw off the foe.
How long could the brave man hold such terrific strain?
The terrified bride, with clasped hands, forgot her own peril in her anxiety for the safety of her rescuer.
The approaching cowboys dared not shoot for fear of injuring the negro. With whirling lariat they dashed nearer, but their aid was not needed.
With a superhuman effort Skibo had suddenly wrenched the animal’s nose upward until the bull lost its equilibrium and plunged sidewise to land feet up and horns driven into the ground.
Skibo had slipped one hand from horn to nostrils as the animal fell, and then, standing on the horns, with both hands holding the panting snout, he had the bull helpless and at his mercy.
In that position the colored man waited for the cowboys to rope the beast, and then modestly attempted to steal away.