the saddle.

Instantly the pony's back arched, and, with a cough, it went off into a
series of bucks, twisting, whirling and making desperate efforts to
unseat its rider.

For the first few minutes the lad could do no more than hold on. At the
first opportunity, however, he let go of the pommel long enough to reach
forward and pick up the reins, which hung well down on the pony's neck.

"Now, buck, Barney, you rascal!" shouted Tad gleefully, giving a gentle
pressure with the spurs.

Barney at once decided to stop bucking.

Tad clucked to him and shook out the reins.

Away they went on the trail of the cattle, heading to the northwest,
where the lad could plainly see them running.

At the pace the pony was going they were able to overhaul the herd in a
short time. Tad had clung to his quirt when he was thrown. Reaching the
head of the line of charging beasts, he rode straight at the leaders,
bringing the quirt again and again across the noses of those nearest to
him. This treatment served to deflect the line a little; yet, try as he
would, Tad seemed unable to turn the bunch toward home. Yet he kept
steadily at his work, "milling" the steers, as the turning process is
called, until pony and rider were well-nigh exhausted.

Tad knew he was a long way from camp and alone with the herd. After a
time the animals seemed to him to be slackening their speed. Discovering
this, he untied the slicker or rubber blanket from the saddle cantle,
and, riding against the leaders again, flaunted the slicker in their
faces, shouting and urging at the same time.

"If I had a gun I believe I could stop them right away," he said. "But
I'm going to turn them if it's the last thing I ever do."

The fury of the storm was abating and the lightning flashes were
becoming less frequent.

Now that he had succeeded in turning the point of the herd, it proved
much easier to keep them under control. Besides, it gave both boy and
pony a breathing spell. The hard riding was not now necessary.

Round and round young Butler kept the herd circling for nearly an hour.
The steers, moving more and more slowly, Tad concluded wisely that they
were growing tired of this and that they would quiet down. His judgment
proved correct. The storm passed. He could hear it roaring off to the
northwest where the lightning flamed up in intermittent flashes.

"Wonder what time it is," queried Tad aloud, searching about in his
clothes for his watch.

"Pshaw,