thrown heavily.

"Get in there!" roared Stallings.

Ned at the moment, chanced to be nearer than were any of the others to
the animal, and to him fell the perilous work of holding down the
kicking beast.

He knew exactly what was expected of him, having seen a cowboy hold a
steer down for a quick branding that morning.

Ned spurred in and leaped to the ground.

Without an instant's hesitation he threw himself on the neck of the
struggling animal, whose flying hoofs made the attempt doubly dangerous.

This act of Ned enabled Stallings to jump from his pony and run to the
lad's assistance, leaving the pony braced to hold the line taut.

The foreman sprang to the rear, where he observed the form of Tad Butler
doubled up, lying half under the body of a big, red steer.

Stallings picked him up, quickly cutting the lariat.

"Slip the loops off his horns!" he commanded. "Look out that you don't
get pinked by them."

"Is Tad hurt?" called Ned anxiously.

"Lucky if he ain't dead," answered the foreman, hurrying to his pony,
which he mounted taking the boy in his arms. By this time Ned had the
ropes and had sprung away from the steer's dangerous horns.

Tad's form hung limp and lifeless over the saddle. His face, with the
sand and dust ground into it, was scarcely recognizable.

Ned followed the foreman as soon as he could get his pony. By the time
Ned reached them, Stallings had laid Tad down and was making a quick
examination.

"Get water! Hurry!" he commanded sharply.

"Where?" asked Ned, glancing about him, undecided which way to turn.

"The chuck wagon. Ride, kid! Ride!"

Ned bounced into his saddle without so much as touching his stirrup.
With a sharp yell to the animal he sped away over the plain, urging on
the little pony with quirt and spur.

The way Ned Rector rode that day made those of the cowmen who saw him
open their eyes.

Ned began shouting for water as soon as he came in sight of the wagon,
which, by this time, was packed for the start.

Pong, understanding from the boy's tone that the need was urgent, was
filling a jug from the tap barrel by the time Ned rode up beside the
wagon. He had less than a minute to wait.

Grabbing the jug from the hands of the grinning Chinaman, and unheeding
Pong's chuckled "allee same," Ned whirled about and raced for the herd.

The lad struggled to keep back the tears as he realized that, even with
all his haste, it might be too late.

That Tad should co