Sue Latrop was the only one from the East. She had been to Amarillo before, and she evidently had much influence over her girl friends from that Panhandle city, if over nobody else. Two of the girls had copied her riding habit exactly; and if imitation is the sincerest flattery, then Sue was flattered indeed. The Boston girl undoubtedly rode well. She had had schooling in the art of sticking to a side-saddle like a fly on a wall! Her horse curvetted, arched his neck, played pretty tricks at command, and was long-legged enough to carry her swiftly over the ground if she so desired. He made the scrubby, nervous little cow-ponies--including Molly--look very shabby indeed. Sue Latrop apparently believed she was ever so much better mounted than the other girls, for she was the only one who had brought her own horse. The others, including Pratt, were mounted on Bill Edwards' ponies. While they were standing in a group and talking, there came a yell from the branding pen. A section of rail fence went down with a crash. Through the fence came a little black steer that had escaped several "branding soirées." Blackwater, as the Bar-T boys called him, was a notorious rebel. He was originally a maverick--a stray from some passing herd--and had joined the Bar-T cattle unasked. That was more than two years before. He had remained on the Bar-T ranges, but was evidently determined in his dogged mind not to submit to the humiliation of the branding-iron. He had been rounded up with a bunch of yearlings and calves a dozen times; but on each occasion had escaped before they got him into the corral. It was better to let the black rebel go than to lose a dozen or more of the others while chasing him. This time, however, Silent Sam had insisted upon riding the rebel down and hauling him, bawling, into the corral. But the rope broke, and before the searing-iron could touch the black steer's rump he went through the fence like a battering-ram. "Look out for that ornery critter, Miss Frances!" yelled the foreman of the Bar-T Ranch. Frances saw him coming, headed for the group of visitors. She touched Molly with the spur, and the intelligent cow-pony jumped aside into the clear-way. Frances seized the rope hanging at her saddle. Pratt had shouted a warning, too. The visitors scattered. But for once Sue Latrop did not manage her mount to the best advantage. "Look out, Sue!" "Quick! He'll have you!" These and other warnings were shouted. With lowered front the black steer was charging the horse the girl from Boston rode. Unlike the trained cow-ponies from Bill Edwards' corral, this gangling creature did not know, of himself, what to do in the emergency. The other mounts had taken their riders immediately out of the way. Sue's horse tossed his head, snorted, and pawed the earth, remaining with his flank to the charging steer. "Get out o' that!" yelled Pratt, and laid his quirt across the stubborn horse's quarters.