steers. "But don't glance ahead of him and over the backs of the steers.
He saw no one in sight, and settling in the saddle again, prepared for the
work ahead of him.

"Got to have some more shots, anyhow," Dave reasoned. His revolver was
empty.

Fortunately Dave had trained Crow so that he could ride him without the
use of the reins--merely by the pressure of the knees on either side of
his neck. Dropping the leather, Dave broke his gun, scattered the empty
shells out on the ground, and filled the chamber with fresh cartridges.

He depended upon the thundering reports of his forty-five, as much as on
his voice and his fearless riding straight at the oncoming steers, to
drive them back. Now again he was ready for his task, and it was high
time, for he was almost at the front line of advancing cattle.

Shouting, waving his big hat with one hand, and with the other working the
trigger of his gun, Dave sought to drive back the maddened animals. He put
into his action all the energy of which he was capable, rising in his
stirrups as though he would hurl himself over the head of his horse at the
beasts.

"Steady now, Crow!" he called into the ear of his faithful pony, leaning
over far on its neck. The front line of cattle began to divide to let Dave
through, or, rather, to pass around him. But he did not want that. He
wanted to turn the animals back.

"Oh, if I only had some one to help me!" he cried aloud.