Scarcely had she got fairly into it, however, before the beasts closed in behind

her, and she found herself completely imbedded in the moving stream of

fierce-eyed, long-horned bullocks. Accustomed as she was to deal with cattle,

she was not alarmed at her situation, but took advantage of every opportunity to

urge her horse on in the hopes of pushing her way through the cavalcade.

Unfortunately the horns of one of the creatures, either by accident or design,

came in violent contact with the flank of the mustang, and excited it to

madness. In an instant it reared up upon its hind legs with a snort of rage, and

pranced and tossed in a way that would have unseated any but a most skilful

rider.

 

The situation was full of peril. Every plunge of the excited horse brought it

against the horns again, and goaded it to fresh madness. It was all that the

girl could do to keep herself in the saddle, yet a slip would mean a terrible

death under the hoofs of the unwieldy and terrified animals. Unaccustomed to

sudden emergencies, her head began to swim, and her grip upon the bridle to

relax. Choked by the rising cloud of dust and by the steam from the struggling

creatures, she might have abandoned her efforts in despair, but for a kindly

voice at her elbow which assured her of assistance. At the same moment a sinewy

brown hand caught the frightened horse by the curb, and forcing a way through

the drove, soon brought her to the outskirts.

 

“You’re not hurt, I hope, miss,” said her preserver, respectfully.