"You look pretty dangerous, old fellow," muttered Ted, stopping his pony
and gazing at it from a safe distance.
"No signs of rattlesnakes around here, or I'd smell them," soliloquized
Ted. "Wonder what's the matter with you."
For answer, the steer gave an extra flip to its tail, and, without
further warning, charged upon Ted with head down and wicked horns
gleaming like bayonets. Ted's horse gave a snort of fear, and trembled
in every muscle.
Ted at once realized his danger, and wheeled his horse like a
bullfighter as Blue Eyes dashed past him, its horn scraping his leg.
"It's fight or run," thought Ted, "with a poor chance to get away from
the brute. When they're in that condition they can run like an
automobile."
Again the steer, having recovered itself, turned to the attack.
"I'll have to put a few bullets into that brute, if this thing keeps up
much longer. It's just crazy enough not to be afraid of a man on
horseback, besides, it's a good deal more active than usual." Ted's
thoughts were keeping time with the swift actions of the brute, which
was wheeling and charging like mad, so that it took all his agility and
superb horsemanship to keep clear of it.
Now the horse was getting tired, and was almost useless because it was
losing whatever sense it had had, and was becoming awkward and
unmanageable.
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