Jane bit her tongue to refrain from championing men who at the very moment were proving to her that they were little and mean compared even with rustlers.

“Look!...Jane, them leadin’ steers have bolted.  They’re drawin’ the stragglers, an’ that’ll pull the whole herd.”

Jane was not quick enough to catch the details called out by Lassiter, but she saw the line of cattle lengthening.  Then, like a stream of white bees pouring from a huge swarm, the steers stretched out from the main body.  In a few moments, with astonishing rapidity, the whole herd got into motion.  A faint roar of trampling hoofs came to Jane’s ears, and gradually swelled; low, rolling clouds of dust began to rise above the sage.

“It’s a stampede, an’ a hummer,” said Lassiter.

“Oh, Lassiter!  The herd’s running with the valley!  It leads into the canyon!  There’s a straight jump-off!”

“I reckon they’ll run into it, too.  But that’s a good many miles yet.  An’, Jane, this valley swings round almost north before it goes east.  That stampede will pass within a mile of us.”

The long, white, bobbing line of steers streaked swiftly through the sage, and a funnel-shaped dust-cloud arose at a low angle.  A dull rumbling filled Jane’s ears.

“I’m thinkin’ of millin’ that herd,” said Lassiter.  His gray glance swept up the slope to the west.  “There’s some specks an’ dust way off toward the village.  Mebbe that’s Judkins an’ his boys.  It ain’t likely he’ll get here in time to help.  You’d better hold Black Star here on this high ridge.”

He ran to his horse and, throwing off saddle-bags and tightening the cinches, he leaped astride and galloped straight down across the valley.

Jane went for Black Star and, leading him to the summit of the ridge, she mounted and faced the valley with excitement and expectancy.  She had heard of milling stampeded cattle, and knew it was a feat accomplished by only the most daring riders.

The white herd was now strung out in a line two miles long.  The dull rumble of thousands of hoofs deepened into continuous low thunder, and as the steers swept swiftly closer the thunder became a heavy roll.  Lassiter crossed in a few moments the level of the valley to the eastern rise of ground and there waited the coming of the herd.  Presently, as the head of the white line reached a point opposite to where Jane stood, Lassiter spurred his black into a run

Jane saw him take a position on the off side of the leaders of the stampede, and there he rode.  It was like a race.  They swept on down the valley, and when the end of the white line neared Lassiter’s first stand the head had begun to swing round to the west.  It swung slowly and stubbornly, yet surely, and gradually assumed a long, beautiful curve of moving white.  To Jane’s amaze she saw the leaders swinging, turning till they headed back toward her and up the valley.  Out to the right