"He's a plucky fellow!" exclaimed the cattleman, as some of his friends came to carry him to a place where his injured leg could be set. The pony John was riding entered into the spirit of the race. It was work for which he had been trained, and, though chasing after wild steers down a railroad track was not like doing it out on the plains, it was "all in the day's work." With nimble feet the pony leaped from tie to tie, on and on and on after the maddened brute. The engineer of the freight was blowing the whistle in frantic toots to warn the steer from the track, but the animal did not heed. "He'll never make it," exclaimed Jack. "Timbuctoo and turntables!" cried Nat. "He's a brave one. Never knew he could ride like that." John dug his heels into the pony's side to urge it to another burst of speed. Then, with a shout, he whirled the lasso in ever widening circles about his head. Suddenly he sent it whirling straight ahead. Like a thin snake the rope hissed forward, and then fell in coils about the neck of the steer. John had taken a turn or two about the pommel of the saddle, and, true to its training, the little pony settled back on its haunches. The next instant it seemed as if the steer had met a cyclone. It went down in a heap, a wild mixture of horns and flying hoofs. And, not a second too soon, for, as it rolled from the track, being fairly snatched from the rails by the taut-ness of the rope, the train came gliding up, though under reduced speed, and severed the lariat. Then John, with a motion of his wrist, guided the pony from the path to the train, which the engineer was doing his best to bring to a stop. The boy and steed easily got out of the way, and then, turning the pony, John rode to where he had left his companions. The steer, all the desire for fight gone, stood dejectedly beside the track, and a number of men, who had hurried up, took charge of it. [Illustration: IT SEEMED AS IF THE STEER HAD MET A CYCLONE-Page 154] "Say, that was the best bit of work I ever saw done!" commented Mr. Post, as he came from the office where he and Mr. Liggins had been talking. "I watched you through the window. Put it there, pardner," and he extended his hand, which John grasped. "Where'd you learn to ride, young man?" asked Mr. Liggins, in business-like tones. "Some of my Indian relatives taught me," replied John modestly, as he dismounted. "I'm not very good at it though. Haven't had any practice." "You don't need it!" exclaimed Mr. Liggins. "Say, young fellow, I'd like to hire you. I need you out here. We have accidents like this every day, only not so sensational, and if you can save a steer that way once in a while you'd more than earn your salary." "Much obliged," John said, "but I can't take your offer." "Why didn't you tell us you could rope a steer and handle a cow pony?" inquired Jack, "You never asked me," was John's reply. "You see I have some Indian traits in me, even if I am only a half-breed."