the question with a cripple between his knees.

"Get up, Hector! Do your prettiest now!" he called to his horse.

The poor beast was trying his hardest to run well, but making only a
pretense, after all, since that lame leg kept him from speedy progress.
Doubtless Hector, being a cow pony, knew full well the nature of the
peril that menaced them, and if it lay in his power he would bear his
young master to a point of safety.

Frank's heart seemed to be in his throat as he leaned forward and
listened to the rapidly approaching roar of hundreds upon hundreds of
hoofs, mingled with the horrid clashing of horns. Added to this was the
deep-toned thunder and the dazzling flashes of lightning.

Once, when he looked to the left, he could see the moving mass that was
sweeping horribly close. After that he resolutely kept his attention
riveted in front, where the ridge loomed up against the darkened
heavens.

Everything depended upon how far he was from the nearest trees. Seconds
counted with Frank just then. The lightning flashed every quarter of a
minute, and yet it seemed to him that they were ages apart.

With his heart in his throat, as it seemed, he stared ahead, and waited
for the next flash to show him the worst. Unless the trees were close
by, his case seemed hopeless, for the main herd appeared to have pushed
over to this side of the valley, unfortunately, showing that he had
picked the wrong course when he started.