It was so in the old days, when bison dotted the plains of the
great West.
Mounted on a good horse, one might hope to ride clear of the advancing
avalanche of hoofs and horns. But his steed was lame, and hardly able to
limp along. The situation was one calculated to arouse a boy as he had
never been awakened before in all his life.
Frank jumped upon the back of his horse. He knew instantly that his one
hope must lie in getting clear of the immense herd; and that this could
only be done by either riding faster than they were going down the wide
valley, or in making for the nearest hillside, where trees would offer
him a refuge.
He chose the latter. Flight in a straightaway course was utterly out of
the question with a cripple between his knees.
"Get up, Hector! Do your prettiest now!" he called to his horse.
The poor beast was trying his hardest to run well, but making only a
pretense, after all, since that lame leg kept him from speedy progress.
Doubtless Hector, being a cow pony, knew full well the nature of the
peril that menaced them, and if it lay in his power he would bear his
young master to a point of safety.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215