the steer at its base. The foreman drew his gun and spurred his horse forward.
"You little skeezicks!" he gasped. "If you break your neck your uncle will jest natcherly run me off'n this range!"
"Keep away, Ike!" panted the girl, letting the tail of the maddened steer run through her hand until she felt the bunch of hair—or brush—at the end.
Then she secured her grip. Digging her spurs into the pony's sides she made him increase his stride suddenly. He gained second by second on the wildly running steer and the girl leaned forward in her saddle, clinging with her left hand to the pommel, her face in the pony's tossing mane.
The next moment the tail was taut and the jerk was almost enough to dislocate her arm. But she hung on and the shock was greater to the big steer than to Jane Ann. The yank on his tail made him lose his stride and forced him to cross his legs. The next moment Old Trouble-Maker was on his head, from which he rolled over on his side, bellowing with fright.
It was a vaquero trick that Jane Ann had seen the men perform; yet it was a mercy that she, a slight girl, was not pulled out of her saddle and killed. But Jane Ann had done the trick nicely; and in a moment she was out of her saddle, and before Ike was beside her, had tied the steer's
