Fortunately the little creature got loose at this juncture and escaped. True to prediction, the rope got, under "Lite's" tail and now the fun commenced in earnest. He bucked as he had never bucked before, and all but stood on his head. The other outfits stopped work for the moment to see the sport.
Lightning fairly foamed in his rage and fear; he bucked continuously, and every time he struck the ground he gave a hoarse squeal—shrill and wicked. John's strength was sorely tried; but after his boasting it would never do to be "piled up," so he set his teeth and vowed he would stick, no matter what happened. The fury of the effort made it a short one, but it seemed to John plenty long enough, for during the five minutes the saddle was like unto a hurricane deck in a raging sea. But through it all John came out triumphant. In the words of a bystander: "The little horse bellered and bucked and the kid never pulled leather" (did not hold on to the horn of his saddle). Which was high praise from a cow-puncher to a cow-puncher.
"What'll you take for him?" called Jerry, as John dismounted to untangle the rope from "Lite's" heels.
"Money can't buy him," was the reply. John was bruised and stiff, but his pride was not broken and his faith in his horse was undiminished, though it must be confessed it had received a severe shock. "He'll bring that calf in or I'll kill him tryin'," he said sturdily, and he mounted "Lite" again and went back. He found the same calf, roped it, and "Lite," after a few futile plunges, dragged it up to the fire, where he stood with heaving, sweat-covered sides while the iron was applied. The hard lesson had been taught and learned for all time.
"He's got the making of a good cow-horse," admitted Jerry. "But, oh Lord! such a making!"
The way John worked the little horse that day would have seemed cruel to a novice, but he intended that he should never forget the experience of the morning, and he never did. The last calf was branded at dusk, and by the time this necessary torture was completed poor "Lite" was about done up.
The bunch was allowed its freedom for another year and the cattle began at once to wander off, the old cows licking the disfigured sides of their offspring, the calves shaking and writhing with pain, failing utterly to understand why they should be tortured thus. The wound soon heals, however, and though the soreness disappears the scar remains always.
The day's work was over; the coolness of evening succeeded the heat of the day; the men stopped work and rode slowly into camp by star-light.
John and Jerry unsaddled their tired horses and turned them over to the care of the night herder.