gure.

But it was not in Dick Austin's make-up to flee from a bull. Instead, he
shouted:

"Come on, you old son-of-a-gun," and he actually kicked the red silk flag
into the air to tantalize the animal. This was too much for the beast.
When he saw the red flag flaunted at him by this puny human he let out a
bellow and charged.

Dick was on his toes in an instant. With a twist of his hand he started
the loop circling about his head, while his eyes were fastened on the
enraged animal charging toward him with lowered head.

Nearer he came! Dick could see the red in his distended nostrils; he
could see the cords and arteries in his massive neck and shoulders
standing out under his velvety skin. He could feel the ground tremble
under the pounding of his heavy feet. The next instant those short,
ugly, black tipped horns might be buried into his flesh and he would be
tossed into the air. And if he dropped limp and helpless he would be
stamped to death. The beast was twenty feet away now. His head dropped
lower for the final plunge. He lunged his great body forward.

But the boy was not there! Like a panther, Dick had leaped behind the
flag-pole, but not until he had hurled the whistling loop straight at the
charging animal's feet. Then with a quick turn he snubbed the line about
the pole.

The next instant the great beast's legs were jerked out from under him
and with a roar of rage he turned a complete somersault and crashed to the
ground, every bit of his wrath jarred out of him by the stunning impact.

In a twinkle Dick came from behind the pole and with the lariat still in
his hands rushed toward the prostrate animal. Two dexterous twists were
all he made and the hind legs of the bull were lashed as fast as the
front ones and savage Ponto was helpless.

After the members of the Quarry Troop had viewed the municipal fireworks
in front of Town Hall that night they gathered at headquarters to discuss
the day's events before going home. But there was only one event to be
discussed, and that was on the lips of every individual in town.

"By Jove, I called him a coward," said Bud Weir. "But if there's a
fellow among us who has as much sand as he had--I--I---well, by cracky,
there isn't any."

"Well," said Bruce thoughtfully. "It's this way--ah--er--I mean-- Aw,
shucks, I can't express it the way I want to, but he surely didn't shirk
the duty for which he was prepared. He told me this morning that
lass