“I see him; I see him!” he yelled, at length, in joyous tones. “Look, Dick!”
Dick Travers’ quick glance took in the small form of Willie Sloan. He saw him still clinging to the back of the animal, which was jammed in the mass some distance away.
Most of the steers were now moving over the plain at a slow walk.
“We’ll soon git him out o’ thar!” declared Pete, vigorously.
Tim Lovell, who had finally succeeded in fighting his way through the cattle, came galloping up.
“Hooray for the brave little chap!” he cried. “Rah, rah! Yes, Dick; Tom’s all right. I saw him a few moments ago. Want any help, Pete?”
“Ye’d best leave it all to me, boys,” commanded the cow-puncher.
He was going about his task in a thorough and systematic manner. One by one, steers were separated from the general mass, then driven aside in small bunches, until, at last, one particular longhorn was able to move freely about.
Pete was alongside of him in an instant; his brawny arm encircled the form of Willie Sloan, and, while Cranny and the others yelled long and heartily, he lifted the lad from his position and set him gently on the ground.