The only answer was a sharp crack of Conroy's quirt.
The sudden leap of his broncho and a loud splash of water set all the other animals prancing about in the narrow gorge. Jack's trusty little steed snorted, as the powerful current bore him along; flying spray soused high above the rider's boots. But Jack, intent upon showing his courage, steered straight toward a deep cut in the opposite bank.
Fearing that the impetuous lad might involve the crowd in a disturbance of tremendous proportions, Bob Somers also plunged his broncho into the stream. Then, one by one, the others followed.
The lumberjacks stood in silence, watching the struggle between the riders and the seething flood. Presently Jack Conroy's dripping horse scrambled ashore.
With a yell of defiance, the lad rode through the cleft, soon finding a place where he was able to ascend.
"Well, here I am, Wengeance!" laughed Jack, making directly toward Pete Colliver.
Pete took a step forward, and there was a curious look in his eyes, as though some resolve he had made afforded him immense satisfaction.
"I see ye, big un!"
Smack! Smack! His open palm struck the sorrel on the flank with terrific force.
The broncho gave a great bound, almost tossing Jack over his head.