Mebbe that's Judkins an' his
boys. It ain't likely he'll get here in time to help. You'd
better hold Black Star here on this high ridge."
He ran to his horse and, throwing off saddle-bags and tightening
the cinches, he leaped astride and galloped straight down across
the valley.
Jane went for Black Star and, leading him to the summit of the
ridge, she mounted and faced the valley with excitement and
expectancy. She had heard of milling stampeded cattle, and knew
it was a feat accomplished by only the most daring riders.
The white herd was now strung out in a line two miles long. The
dull rumble of thousands of hoofs deepened into continuous low
thunder, and as the steers swept swiftly closer the thunder
became a heavy roll. Lassiter crossed in a few moments the level
of the valley to the eastern rise of ground and there waited the
coming of the herd. Presently, as the head of the white line
reached a point opposite to where Jane stood, Lassiter spurred
his black into a run
Jane saw him take a position on the off side of the leaders of
the stampede, and there he rode. It was like a race. They swept
on down the valley, and when the end of the white line neared
Lassiter's first stand the head had begun to swing round to the
west. It swung slowly and stubbornly, yet surely, and gradually
assumed a long, beautiful curve of moving white. To Jane's amaze
she saw the leaders swinging, turning till they headed back
toward her and up the valley.
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