was like a prairie fire--they had not realized it could be so
terrible and menacing until they actually saw it. And see it they did.

There was needed but a quick backward glance to show that a great fear,
or rage, which is almost the same, had entered into the three hundred
steers (more or less) that were being driven onward.

At one moment the cattle had been progressing in what might be termed
orderly fashion. Now and then a steer would try to break out of the
line of march, only to be quickly hazed in again by one of the cowboys,
or one of the trio of boy ranchers. But now the whole herd had
suddenly been galvanized into action, and that action took the form of
running forward at top speed.

It would not have been so bad, perhaps, if the stampede had started
from in front. If the forward ranks of cattle had begun to race
onward, those behind would simply have followed, and there would
gradually have been a slackening up. Of course then there would have
been some danger, for the front steers might have slowed down first,
while those at the rear still came on, trampling under their sharp
hoofs those who were unlucky enough to fall.

But, as it happened, the fright had first seized on the rear bunches of
cattle and these had started to run, charging in upon those in front of
them, who, in turn, were hurled forward until now, a few seconds after
Bud had shouted the alarm, the whole herd was in wild motion.

"Come on!" yelled Bud. "Ride for it! Oh, zowie, boy! Ride for it!
Ride like Zip Foster would!" and with voice, reins and spurs he urged
his pony forward.

"What do you aim to do?" shouted Dick in his cousin's ear as the two
thudded along side by side.

"We've got to get far enough ahead so we can try to turn 'em!" yelled
Bud. "It's our only chance. Ride straight ahead!"

Nort spurred up alongside of his cousin and brother, and, as he did so
he yelled:

"What you s'pose started 'em off, Bud?"

"Haven't any time to do any s'posin' now!" was the grim answer. "Ride
on and say your prayers that your pony doesn't step in a prairie dog's
hole. If he does--and you fall--good night!"

The recent tenderfeet knew, without being told, what was meant. To go
down before a herd of wild cattle, infuriated because they were
frightened, would mean sure death and in horrible form.

As Nort looked back, to see what distance lay between himself and
comrades, and the foremost of the herd, he saw several figures