"Throw it! throw it!" roared the ranchman, "Can't you see you're
losing ground every second?"
Never before had Bill been called on for so important a cast of his
lasso, and for a moment his hand trembled.
"Steady! Let her go now!" counseled his father.
At the word Bill put forth all his strength and the rope shot from
his hand, the noose opening perfectly as it sped through the air.
Fascinated, the others watched as it hung a moment in the air and
dropped directly over Blackhawk's head.
"Pretty cast!" praised the ranchman. "Now ride along. Don't pull
up too soon."
But his words were too late.
The pony which his elder son rode was perfectly trained to rope
steers. As it caught the sharp hiss of the lariat the animal had
slackened its stride, and the instant it felt the rope tighten had
stiffened its legs and braced, almost squatting back on its
haunches.
And the next moment Blackhawk was jerked from his feet, measuring
his length on the ground, while Tom went sailing through the air,
alighting about twenty feet away.
"Hold as you are!" ordered Mr. Wilder of Bill and then dashed for
the kicking black, with Larry and Horace at his heels.
"Tom! Tom! are you hurt?" called his brother.
For a second there was no reply, and then their anxiety was
relieved by seeing Tom stand up.
"Any bones broken?" asked Mr.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62