grew cold as she saw that, try as
they might, they could not head it.

The animal seemed to be conscious only of its fleeing victim. When she
ran, her flight appeared to excite and enrage it further, for it bawled
with anger. The fluttering petticoats were a challenge, and the steer
was bent on reaching and destroying the strange object with the weapons
nature had given it. It was accustomed to horsemen and had no fear of
them, but it saw a menace in the little old woman screaming just ahead,
so it ignored Canby and Wallie, and they could not swerve it.

Helene wrung her hands in a frenzy as she watched their futile efforts.
Wallie always carried a rope on his saddle, why didn't he use it? Was he
afraid? Couldn't he? She felt a swift return of her old contempt for
him. Was he only a "yellow-back" cowpuncher after all, underneath his
Western regalia? Momentarily she despised him. Notwithstanding his brave
appearance he was as useless in a crisis like this as Canby. Pinkey was
more of a man than either of them. He would stop that steer somehow if
he had only his pocketknife to do it. Her lip curled disdainfully for
she had an innate contempt of impotency and failure.

She cried out sharply as Aunt Lizzie stumbled and pitched headlong.
Between exhaustion and terror that paralyzed her she was unable to get
up, though she tried. The steer, flaming-eyed, was now less than fifty
yards from her.

Helene felt herself grow nauseated. She meant to close her eyes when it
happened. She had seen a horse gored to death by a bull and it was a
sight she did not wish to see repeated.

Canby in advance of Wallie was a little ahead of the steer, slapping at
it with his bridle-reins, Wallie behind had been crowding its shoulder.
But nothing could divert it from its purpose.

Helene was about to turn her head away when she saw Wallie lay the reins
on his horse's neck and lean from the saddle.

His purpose flashed through Helene's mind instantly. Then she cried
aloud--incredulously:

"He's going to try _that_!" And added in a frightened whisper: "He can't
do it! He can never do it!"

Wallie's horse, which had been running at the steer's shoulder, missed
his hand on the reins and lagged a little, so that the distance between
them was such as to make what he meant to attempt seemingly impossible.
For a second he rode with his arm outstretched as if gauging the
distance, then Helene grew rigid as she saw him leave the saddle.

He ma