"Well, what are we to do?" demanded Frank Price. "Stay here and wait for a chance to help if we see it," said Rob. "Oh, pshaw! They're busy. They won't see us. Let's slip in while they're not looking," urged Bill Simmons. "The first duty of a Boy Scout is to obey orders," said Harry Harkness decisively. "It's mighty hard to sit here doing nothing, though," grumbled Frank Price. "That's what our soldiers had to do in many a battle," his brother Charley reminded him. "That's so. I guess we'll have to be patient." And now, under the direction of Mr. Harkness, the cattlemen spread out in a long line, so arranged as to be capable of sweeping across the vanguard of the cattle in a compact skirmish line rank. Each puncher had his gun ready for action, and at the word from Mr. Harkness they rode toward the approaching stampede at a quick lope. Up till now the stampede had not been visible. Only the signs of its approach were manifest. Suddenly, however, over the crest of a little rise, there swept into view an appalling spectacle. Hundreds of fear-crazed cattle, bellowing as they raced forward, and clashing their horns together with a sharp sound, formed the vanguard. Behind them came a huddled mass, goring and trampling each other in their terror. The boys' faces paled as they watched. "Yow-yow-yow-eee-ee-e!" The yells burst from the cattlemen's throats above the noise of the stampede. Bang! Bang! Bang! A score of revolver shots crackled as the line swept forward and rode at full gallop right across the faces of the leaders of the mad rush. It was terribly risky work. The slightest stumble would have meant death. At the head of his cow-punchers, like a general leading his forces, rode Mr. Harkness on his big bay. Clear across the front of the line the cow-punchers swept without appreciably diminishing the speed of the onrush. A second time they tried the daring tactics. This time they succeeded in checking the cattle a little, but only a bare two hundred yards remained between the leaders and the edge of the Graveyard. In this space galloped the cow-punchers. Could they stop the advance in time to save themselves from a terrible death? "Father! Father!" shouted Harry, in his painful excitement standing up in his stirrups. The boys felt a great sympathy for the rancher's son. If the cattle were not stopped in the next few minutes a terrible death seemed certain to overtake the brave man and his helpers. "Fire at 'em!" yelled Mr. Harkness suddenly. This was a desperate last resort. Hitherto, the cow-punchers had been firing in the air. Now, however, they leveled their revolvers at the oncoming herd. Bang! Bang! Bang! Several of the leaders crumpled up and fell to the ground, mortally wounded. In a second they were trampled under foot, but suddenly, after twenty or more had been thus slaughtered, the band began to waver. At last, with mad bellows, and amid frantic yells from the cowboys, their ranks broke and wavered.