But it seemed he would be too late. The girl had sensed her danger. She had caught the stealthy movement of the steer; she had glimpsed the unmistakable malignance of his blood-shot eyes, and had stood for an instant in the grip of a dumb, paralyzing terror. She had dismounted to gather some yellow blossoms of soap-weed that had looked particularly inviting from the saddle, and too late she had become aware of the belligerent actions of the steer. She realized now that she was too far from her pony to reach it in case the steer attacked her, but in the hope of gaining a few steps before the charge came she backed slowly, edging sidelong toward the pony. She gained a considerable distance in this manner, for during the first few seconds of the movement the steer seemed uncertain and stood, swinging its head from side to side, pawing the sand vigorously. The girl was thankful for the short respite, and she made the most of it. She had retreated perhaps twenty-five or thirty feet when the steer charged, bolting toward her with lowered head. She had gone perhaps thirty or forty feet when Patches reached the scene. The girl saw the blur he made as he flashed past her--he had cut between her and the steer--so close to her that the thunder of his hoofs roared deafening in her ears, and the wind from his passing almost drew her off her balance as amazed, stunned, nerveless, she halted. She caught a glimpse of Randerson's profile as he swept into a circle and threw his rope. There must be no missing--there was none. The sinuous loop went out, fell over the steer's head. Thereafter there was a smother of dust in which the girl could see some wildly waving limbs. Outside of the smother she saw the pony swing off for a short distance and stiffen its legs. The rope attached to the pommel of the saddle grew taut as a bow string; there was an instant of strained suspense during which the pony's back arched until the girl thought it must surely break. It was over in an instant, though every detail was vividly impressed upon the girl's mind. For the cold terror that had seized her had fled with the appearance of Patches--she knew there could be no danger to her after that. She watched the steer fall. He went down heavily, the impetus of his charge proving his undoing; he struck heavily on head and shoulder, grunting dismally, his hind quarters rising in the air, balancing there for an infinitesimal space and then following his head. The rope stretched tighter; the girl saw Patches putting a steady pull on it. The loop had fallen around the steer's neck; she heard the animal cough for breath once, then its breath was cut off. In this minute the girl's chief emotion was one of admiration for the pony. How accurate its movements in this crisis! How unerring its judgment! For though no word had been spoken--at least the girl heard none--the pony kept the rope taut, bracing against its burden as Randerson slid out of the saddle.