The steer stood off for several minutes looking at Ted in a lowering
way, but when Ted tried to run from it, it was close to his heels in a
minute, and he had to simply throw the horse to one side, bringing it to
its knees, to avoid the brute.
"That settles it," said Ted, taking his forty-five from its holster and
advancing slowly upon the frantic steer.
As it started to charge again he fired directly at the middle of its
forehead.
But the animal was hardly staggered, as the missile flattened on its
skull and fell harmlessly to the ground.
"This won't do," said Ted. "I've got to get into this game myself. No
more peek-a-boo goes with Blue Eyes. I'll do the tackling for a while."
He wheeled out of the way, then turned suddenly and rode after the
steer, firing four balls in rapid succession into its body.
But this did not seem to affect the animal's spirits at all, and Ted
rode off a short distance and reloaded.
When he turned again toward the beast it was charging, and was so close
to him that he hardly had time to get out of its way.
He might have made it had not the horse caught the smell of blood, which
was running from the steer in several places.
This rattled him so that he lost his footing, and the next instant he
was struck on the withers by the steer's horns and went rolling over and
over on the prairie, while Ted Strong flew from his back, and landed
heavily on the sod, with his revolver knocked from his hand.
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