No doubt each of these young women had conjectured as to the manner of that homecoming and the meeting that would accompany it; but it is safe to say that neither of them guessed in her day-dreams how it actually was to occur.
Nora had been eager to see something of the round-up, and as she wasno horsewoman her mistress took her out one day in her motor.The drive had been that day on Bronco Mesa, and had finished in the natural corral made by Bear Canon, fenced with a cordon of riders at the end opening to the plains below.After watching for two hours the busy scenes of cutting out, roping and branding, Helen wheeled her car and started down the canyon on their return.
Now, a herd of wild cattle is uncertain as an April day's behavior.Under the influence of the tame valley cattle among which they are driven, after a little milling around, the whole bunch may gentle almost immediately, or, on the other hand, it may break through and go crashing away on a wild stampede at a moment's notice.Every experienced cowman knows enough to expect the unexpected.
At Bronco Mesa the round-up had proceeded with unusual facility.Scores of wiry, long-legged steers had drifted down the ridges or gulches that led to the canon; and many a cow, followed by its calf, had stumbled forward to the herd and apparently accepted the inevitable.But before Helen Messiter had well started out of the canyon's mouth the situation changed absolutely.
A big hill steer, which had not seen a man for a year, broke through the human corral with a bellow near a point where Reddy kept guard.The puncher wheeled and gave chase, Before the other men could close the opening a couple of two-year-olds seized the opportunity and followed its lead.A second rider gave chase, and at once, as if some imp of mischief had stirred them, fifty tails went up in wild flight.Another minute and the whole herd was in stampede.
Down the gulch the five hundred cattle thundered toward the motor car, which lay directly in their path.Helen turned, appreciated the danger, and put the machine at its full speed.The road branched for a space of about fifty yards, and in her excitement she made the mistake of choosing the lower, more level, one.Into a deep sand bed they plowed, the wheels sinking at every turn.Slower and slower went the car; finally came to a full stop.
Nora glanced back in affright at the two hundred and fifty tons of beef that was charging wildly toward them."What shall we do?" she gasped,and clambered to the ground.
"Run!" cried Helen, following her example and scudding for the sides of the canyon, which here sloped down less precipitately than at other points.But before they had run a dozen steps each of them was aware that they could not reach safety in time to escape the hoofs rushing toward them so heavily that the ground quaked.
"Look out!" A resonant cry rang out above the dull thud of the stampeding cattle that were almost upon them.Down the steep sides of the gorge two riders were galloping recklessly.It was a race for life between them and the first of the herd, and they won by scarce more than a length.Across the sand the horses plowed, and as they swept past the two trembling young women each rider bent from the saddle without slackening speed, and snatched one almost from under the very hoofs of the leaders.
The danger was not past.As the horses swerved and went forward with the rush Helen knew that a stumble would fling not only her and the man who had saved her, but also the horse down to death.They must contrive to hold their own in that deadly rush until a way could be found of escaping from the path of the living cyclone that trod at their heels, galloped beside them, in front, behind.
For it came to her that the horse was tiring in that rush through the sand with double weight upon its back.
"Courage!" cried the man behind her as her fearful eyes met his.
