Without hesitation the mustang was after the stubborn steer again, showing less fear than before, though he maintained a sharp lookout against a repetition of the attack. It may have been that the dexterous manner in which he had just eluded the brute gave him self-confidence, as it weakened that of the fugitive without lessening his obduracy, for he took care that the line of his flight led straight away from his own herd.

With the same care Thunderbolt began edging up, and, in a brief while, his head was abreast of the haunch of the steer, and steadily gaining. Avon now leaned over the right shoulder of his mustang, and reaching forward and downward, seized the tail of the steer, and in a flash twisted all that was sufficiently 259 flexible around the horn of his saddle. At the same instant he called sharply to Thunderbolt, who made a vicious bound to the left, and the steer, with a short bellow of pain, went down with fearful violence.

But he was not yet conquered. As full of energy and obstinacy as ever, he seemed to leap to his feet as if made of rubber, but without attempting to resent the indignity he had suffered, he continued his impetuous flight.

The brief interval had given Avon time in which to uncoil his rope. Instead of flinging it over the horns of the steer he dexterously caught the loop around one of his hind legs, and jerked it taut with the quickness of lightning. Down went the animal again, kicking and bellowing and struggling hard to regain his feet.

The youth allowed him to succeed, when, with the help of the mustang, he was thrown again. This was repeated several times, until it was apparent that the captive was subdued. Finally, after receiving another fall, he refused to try to regain his feet.

Avon now managed to loosen the loop sufficiently 260 to slip it off the imprisoned leg. Then, holding several coils in his grasp, he reached over and gave the panting animal several resounding whacks on his ribs.

He smiled as the brute hastily clambered up, and, turning his nose toward the other cattle a considerable distance off, broke into a trot after them, still bellowing as if asking them to wait until he could join them. No refractory urchin was ever brought to terms with more completeness than was the defiant steer.

Now that the disciplined animal was travelling in the right direction, his conqueror also faced Captain Shirril, who had been watching him with much interest, while the cattle were stringing along at a rapid gallop in the direction of the ridge beyond which lay the invisible camp of the cowmen.

The lull in the stirring proceeding led Avon to recall the mishap of Shackaye, who had escaped the horns of the other steer by such a narrow chance. He cast his eye toward the body of the dead animal plainly seen across the prairie, but the young Comanche himself 261 was not in sight. He concluded that he must have remounted his mustang and galloped back to camp. Possibly he had received some injury from his fall which placed it beyond his power to help in the work of gathering the stray members of the herd.

Avon turned his attention to his relative, when he was astonished to perceive fully a dozen horsemen a short distance off between him and the ridge.

The first natural thought of the youth was that the party at the camp had ridden out to their help, but he instantly saw that such could not be the case, since there were so many of them, and it did not require a second glance to ascertain that each one was a mounted Indian.

The first emotion following this discovery was that of a wonderment as to what it could all mean. It was not remarkable that they should encounter Indians, while crossing the section set apart especially for their occupancy, nor was anything to be feared from them unless the temptation to violence became unusually strong on the part of the red men.

But there was something ominous in the sudden and singular appearance of these dusky plainsmen. They had shown up unexpectedly, the indication being that they had emerged from a group of hills a short distance to the eastward. Colonel Sclevinger and his herd were beyond sight, so that the two friends were in anything but a pleasant situation.

But while it looked as if the Indians must be friendly from force of circumstances, their conduct justified the grave alarm Avon felt on first seeing them. Perceiving they were discovered, they broke into a rapid gallop beyond the unsuspicious Captain Shirril, spreading apart like a fan, as if they meant to inclose him in the circle beyond escape.

A shout from the young man caused his uncle to look around, when he discovered what was going on. He instantly touched his animal with his spurs and sent him swiftly toward Avon, who advanced to meet him.

“What does it mean?” asked the younger as they came together.

“It means mischief,” was the reply. “I 263 believe some of them belong to the party that tried to burn our house.”

“Then they are Comanches?”

“Every one of them––where’s Shackaye?” abruptly asked the captain, as if the naming of the tribe had recalled that interesting youth to his mind.

“I shouldn’t wonder if he were among them,” replied Avon, with a certain grim pleasure, as he recalled the faith his uncle had shown in the savage in the face of Gleeson’s warnings.

“Like enough,” remarked the captain, watching the actions of the warriors, who had diverged so far already that it was impossible for the couple to escape in any direction without coming in collision with them; “we’ve got to stand them off.”

Without any appearance of alarm in his manner Captain Shirril slipped down from his saddle, his nephew being but a few seconds behind him, and the two coolly prepared to make a stand against the attack of the Comanches.