Skibo was tired of riding, and disposed his form against the corral fence in as comfortable position as possible. He heard an uproar among the cows and horses within, but before he could arise to investigate there came a terrific crash, and a great Texan bull burst from the inclosure. Excited first by the shouting and shooting, and then infuriated by the glimpse of darting ponies and the cheers of the men as the field got away, the animal in its frantic plunging had broken loose, dashed through the herd, and swept the fence away like a row of jackstraws. The first thing that caught the brute’s eye when he had gained liberty was a straw stack. He darted at it with lowered head, and amused himself for a moment by goring it. Then he turned and saw the white-covered wagon with the frightened young woman upon it, and dangling from one of the wheels the bright red pontiac of a miner. The animal had really considered the straw stack a joke, and seemed to be at play, but that red coat set his passions aflame. With a maddened roar he pawed the earth and sent the gravel flying high in air. Several cowpunchers far down the field heard the commotion and recognized its import at once. They put spurs to their ponies and tore madly back, yet they knew they could not hope to reach roping or even shooting distance before the fierce brute would charge the schooner with its helpless cargo--the fair bride they had come to honor. The cowboys’ yells had attracted the attention of others, and soon the course swarmed with excited men and horses, racing toward the scene of pending tragedy. The bellowing of the bull rumbled faintly above that of pounding hoofs. These brave men of the plains, in a mission of life and death, drove the rowels into the sides of their steeds. And then the foremost saw the brute charge, in spite of their yells to turn his attention to them. But even as they looked at the flying bull they saw a human being bound out from the corral across the path of the bull. It was Skibo! There the giant negro stood, with tense muscles, slightly crouching, facing the oncoming animal, unarmed. The bloodshot eyes of the bull caught the new object in its path, and the brute slowed down for reconnaissance. It came to a dead stop within ten feet of the human form which disputed its progress. But the pause was brief, for the colored man darted in like a flash, and seized the wide-spreadin’, needle-like horns of the bull. Then began such a struggle for mastery between man and beast as the West had never seen. It was not the battle of powder, and lead, and steel against brute flesh, but the conflict of brawn and brawn. The animal in a perfect fury tried to hurl its antagonist off, and to trample, and gore the powerful man, who stooped to no form of torture to win the mastery.