me out of that melee of flying hoofs and prodding
horns without being at least seriously injured was more than he could
hope.

Faster and faster ran the pony, behind him a rising cloud of yellow
dust. Ned's fingers were stiff and numb from carrying the heavy jug, and
the lump in his throat was growing larger, it seemed to him, with every
leap of the animal under him.

Now Ned could see the cowmen galloping in and gazing from their ponies.
He knew they were looking at Tad. Stallings was bent over him, pouring
something down the boy's throat.

Ned's heart gave a great bound. Tad Butler must be alive or there would
be no need for the liquid that the foreman was forcing down his throat.

CHAPTER VII

THE HERD FORDS THE RIVER

"Is he--is he----" asked Ned, weakly, after they had taken the jug of
water from his hand.

"He's alive, if that's what you mean," answered Stallings. "I'm afraid
he's got a slight concussion of the brain. He doesn't come around the
way I should like to see him."

"Sure it isn't a fracture!" asked the Professor, who had just arrived on
the scene.

"No, I hardly think so."

The foreman washed the unconscious boy's face, soaking Tad's head and
neck and searching for the seat of the trouble.

"Huh! Steer kicked him," grunted Stallings. "It was a glancing blow,
luckily for the kid."

They worked over the lad for fully half an hour before he began to show
signs of returning consciousness. At last his trembling eyelids
struggled apart and he smiled up at them weakly.

"Ah! He's all right now, I guess," laughed the foreman, with a world of
relief in his tone. "Boys, get busy now and cut out the rest of those
cows. If the young man is not able to ride we'll put him in the chuck
wagon when it comes up. Feel bad anywhere, now?" he asked.

"My--my head weighs a ton."

"I should think it would. Did the white steer kick you?"

"I--I don't know. Hello, Professor. I roped him all right, didn't I, Mr.
Stallings?"

"You did. But you got roped yourself, too, I reckon. Think you'll be
able to ride in the trail wagon? If not we'll have to send you back to
town."

"That'll be the best place for the tenderfoot," growled Lumpy Bates.

Stallings turned a stern eye upon him.

"Lumpy, when I want your opinion I'll let you know. What are you doing
here, anyway? Get into that cut out and be mighty quick about it!"

Lumpy rode away growling.

"I'll ride in no trail wagon," announced Tad Butler