y all the men at the right save Tad Butler and Big-foot Sanders. As
it chanced, they were at the danger spot when the trouble came.

Chunky had been awakened by the disturbance in camp, not having fully
aroused himself until after the departure of the men, however. He sat
up, rubbing his eyes, grumbling about the weather and expressing his
opinion of a cowpuncher's life in no uncertain terms.

Finding that all had left him, the lad decided to get his pony and
follow.

"What's the matter, Pong?" he called, observing the Chinaman up and
fixing the curtains about his wagon.

"Allee same likee this," answered Pong hopping about in imitation of an
animal running away.

"He's crazy," muttered Chunky, going to his pony and swinging himself
into the saddle.

Chunky urged the animal along faster and faster. He could hear the
cowboys on beyond him though he was able to see only a few yards ahead
of him. However, the boy was becoming used to riding in the dark and did
not feel the same uncertainty that he had earlier.

"I'll bet they are getting ready to run away," he decided.

In that, Stacy was right. Before he realized where he was he had driven
his pony full into the rear ranks of the restless cattle.

Chunky uttered a yell as he found himself bumping against the sides of
the cows and sought to turn his pony about.

The startled steers nearest to him fought desperately to get away from
the object that had so suddenly hurled itself against them. Instantly
there was a mix-up, with bellowing, plunging steers all about him.

"Help! Help!" shouted the boy.

Now his pony was biting and kicking in an effort to free itself from the
animals that were prodding it with horns and buffeting it from side to
side.

Only a moment or so of this was necessary to fill the cattle with blind,
unreasoning fear. With one common impulse they lunged forward. Those
ahead of them felt the impetus of the thrust just as do the cars of a
freight train under the sudden jolt of a starting engine.

"What's up?" roared the foreman.

"They're off!" yelled a cowman.

"Head them!"

"Can't. They're started in the center of the herd."

With heads down, the entire herd was now charging straight ahead.
Big-foot Sanders and Tad Butler, nearly half a mile ahead, felt the
impetus, too.

"Keep your head, boy," warned the cowpuncher. "We are in for a run for
our money, now."

It came even as he spoke. With a bellow the cattle started forward at a