It would take too long to set the boy
free, for the hard unyielding rope was hitched tight round him. There
was only one thing to do, and Dan Collins did it.

He waited till the bull had gathered itself for a final rush, and, when
it had actually started to charge, he dropped to the ground like a
flash. In a fraction of a second his powerful right arm went out, and
he gripped the nostrils of the bull, pressing his thumb and forefinger
home as far as he could. Then he twisted, suddenly and unexpectedly.

It was not a matter of strength, but of knack. The power of the
onrushing bull actually supplied all the strength which was necessary.
Dan Collins twisted. The animal's wrinkled neck turned. It could not
help turning, for the pain at its nostrils was unbearable. The
near-side leg gave under it. Something had to give under the strain.
The fingers still kept their grip, and the great beast crashed down
with such a thud that the ground seemed to shake.[1]

Every man jumped from the rails and was on the prostrate animal at
once, holding it down till the white boy, who had been in such terrible
danger, was set free.

That night the manager gave his verdict about the two boys. "You'll
do," he said. "I'll take you on. Mick, you'd better take them out on
the run with you. I want you to go north in a couple of days. And for
goodness sake teach them that there are some things which even _they_
cannot do." He did not mean this unkindly, for he had taken a fancy to
the boys, but he saw that they would need to be restrained a great deal
before they could become really first-class stock-men.

[1] The author has seen quite a small man throw a full-sized bull in
this way on a Central Australian cattle-station.

CHAPTER XV

A Night Alarm

It can well be imagined that both lads fell asleep quickly and soundly
that night after their first day in the yards. Sidcotinga Government
House had a veranda on one side of it, and they spread their swags
under it just outside Mick's room, as there was no place for them
inside, especially in summer.

In the middle of the night a man crept round the corner of the veranda
as silently as a black shadow. He paused near the boys, and stooped
down and looked into their faces. The lads were sound asleep and did
not stir. After a moment's scrutiny the native put his hand on Sax's
shoulder and shook it. The tired boy only gave a restless murmur, so
the man shook him hard