And
always, amid the confusion of the frenzied animals, the figure of the
mounted man in their midst could be seen calmly directing their wildest
movements, and soon, out from the crowding, jostling, whirling mass of
flying feet and tossing manes and tails, the black with the white star
shot toward the gate. Bob's horse leaped aside from the way. Curly's
horse was between the black and his mates, and before the animal could
gather his confused senses he was in the larger corral. The day's work
had begun.
The black dodged skillfully, and the loop of Curly's riata missed the
mark.
"You better let somebody put eyes in that rope, Curly," remarked Phil,
laconically, as he stepped aside to avoid a wild rush.
The chagrined cowboy said something in a low tone, so that Little Billy
could not hear.
The Dean chuckled.
Bob's riata whirled, shot out its snaky length, and his trained horse
braced himself skillfully to the black's weight on the rope. For a few
minutes the animal at the loop end of the riata struggled
desperately--plunging, tugging, throwing himself this way and that; but
always the experienced cow-horse turned with his victim and the rope was
never slack.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66