Then the cutting out began. Cowboy after cowboy dashed into the herd coming out usually with his pony pressing against the side of an unwilling steer and pushing him along in the right direction by main force. And here was where the Pony Riders made themselves useful. As an animal was cut out, the boys would ride in behind it and worry the steer along until they had gotten it a safe distance to the west of the main herd. "There's a Diamond D steer in that bunch," Tad informed one of the cowpunchers as he rushed a big, white steer out. "Never mind; we'll trim the mixed outfit after we get more of the bunch out," answered the cowboy, riding back into the herd. While doing the cutting out the men also drove out the few cattle that had strayed into the herd earlier in the journey. For three hours this grilling work had kept up, the perspiring cowboys yelling, their ponies squealing under the terrific punishment they were getting from both riders and steers. But in the excitement of their own work, the Pony Riders had had little time in which to observe what the cowmen were doing. Tad thought of a plan by which he might assist them further. So he galloped his pony over to the edge of the main herd and waited until the foreman dashed out with two red, fighting steers, which he gave a lively start on their way to join the mixed herd. "Mr. Stallings, may I cut back some of the Diamond D animals in the mixed herd?" he asked. "Think you can do it, kid?" "I can try." "All right. Go ahead. Be careful that you don't turn back any of the other brands, though. Above all, look out for yourself." Tad galloped back to his companions, his face flushed, the dust standing out on his blue shirt, turning it almost gray. "Keep this herd up, fellows," he shouted. "I'm going to try my hand at cutting out." Fortunately, the pony understood what was wanted of it, and, the moment it had located an animal which it was desired to cut out, the pony went at the work with a will. Tad, triumphant and warm, rode out driving a Diamond D steer ahead of him, applying his quirt vigorously to the animal's rump until he had landed it safely in the ranks of the main herd. Again and again had the boy ridden in among the cattle, seemingly taking no account of the narrow escapes both rider and pony were having from the sharp horns of the long-legged Mexican cattle. One big, white fellow gave the lad more trouble than all the rest that he had cut out, and when once Tad had run him out into the open the perspiration was dripping from his face. But his battle was not yet won. The steer, for some reason best known to itself, did not wish to return to its own herd. It fought every inch of the way, wearing down pony and rider until they were almost exhausted. Tad Butler's blood was up, however. He set his jaw stubbornly and plunged into the work before him.