Ted Strong in Montana: Or, With Lariat and SpurTaylor, Edward C.
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Ted Strong in Montana: Or, With Lariat and Spur
Taylor, Edward C.
Cowboys -- Juvenile fiction; Western stories
"I reckon not," answered the cow-puncher, who, secretly, was very much
afraid he was; he didn't see how Ted could help being dead, having been
charged by a steer, and having gone down beneath its weight.
He was struggling like a demon to lift the heavy animal from Ted's body.
The bulk of the steer was lying across Ted's chest, whose face was black
from the congestion, so that Stella dared not look at him.
"Pump yer gun fer all it's worth," commanded Bud, in a rough voice.
"Keep shootin' till yer bring 'em on ther run. We've got ter get him
from under this steer soon, er he'll be all in."
Stella had snatched her Winchester from the boot of her saddle, and
fired it in rapid succession into the air until the magazine was empty.
Then she refilled it, and began shooting again.
Presently she heard answering shots from the direction of the camp, and
in a few minutes several horsemen came tearing over the top of a distant
hill, to disappear into a valley and come into sight again on a nearer
hill. Soon, with a shout that fairly split the air, six of the boys, led
by Ben and Kit, threw themselves from their saddles in front of her.
"What's the matter?" they yelled in unison.
"Throw that steer off Ted," she commanded.
Then they saw what the matter was, and altogether they hoisted the
steer, and Ted was freed of the terrible weight.
He was scarcely breathing, for the wind had been completely knocked out
of him. Ben laid him flat on his back, and, straddling him, with his
knees on the ground, began to work Ted's arms with an upward, backward,
and outward motion, as if he was restoring the breath to a half-drowned
person. Soon a flush came into Ted's face, and he gave a gasp, and his
breath came in short, painful inhalations. As Ben continued the
exercise, his breathing became regular, and he opened his eyes with
surprise, to see so many of his friends about him, and particularly big
Ben straddling him and apparently holding him down. He thought at first
that Ben was responsible for his prostrate condition, or that he had
struck him.
"What are you doing?" Ted said angrily. "Let me up, dog-gone you."
But when he saw the dead steer on the ground beside him he remembered
what had happened, and sat up and laughed with the others.
It did not take him long to recover after this.
"I'm going to try to find out what caused this beast to go mad," said
Ted. "There's certainly something wrong about it."
"How are you going to find that out?" asked Ben.
"I don't know yet, but I will," Ted answered. "Come on, two or three of
you fellows. The rest of you ride back to the camp. You may be needed
there. We can't guard things too closely these days."
The party separated, and Ted, with Bud, Ben, and Kit, rode away, but
they had gone only a little ways when they heard a noise behind them. It
was Stella galloping toward them.
"I'm going, too," she said, and go she did.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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