Ted surely was doomed.

The bull’s horns caught Ted in the side as he continued to roll away from it, and it stopped for an instant, settling itself to toss him.  Stella turned her head away with a muttered prayer, and even the cowboys, used to accidents in the round-up, gasped.

But suddenly they saw a cloud of dust fly upward, and thought at first that Ted had fired his revolver into the face of the infuriated beast, and it seemed strange that they had not heard the report of the weapon.

Then, miracle of miracles, the bull, with a snort of pain, threw up its head, and Ted was not impaled upon its horns.

There was another cloud of dust, and the bull began backing away, slowly but surely, shaking its head, as if in pain.

“Screamin’ catamounts, did yer see thet, Stella?” cried Bud Morgan, as he rode alongside the girl,

“What did he do?” asked Stella.

“He’s saved hisself by blindin’ ther bull.  He throwed dust inter its eyes.  I’m dinged if I see how thet feller kin think o’ things like thet when he’s down an’ out.  Look at him!”

As the bull rubbed its face in the grass Ted rolled over twice, then leaped to his feet and ran to where Sultan was awaiting him.

A mighty cheer went up from the boys, and the color came back into Stella’s face with a rush, but she could not have uttered a sound to save her life.

In the meantime, the bull had recovered, having rubbed the dust from its eyes in the short grass, and looked about for its enemy.

It caught sight of Ted in the act of mounting, and sprang toward him with the swiftness of a deer.

Then Stella recovered her voice.

“Run, Ted!  Run!” she cried.

But Ted had seen the necessity of that himself, and, wheeled Sultan and dashed off, looking over his shoulder at the enraged monster that was following him, while he rapidly uncoiled his lariat.

Having run several hundred yards and outdistanced the bull, he turned and stopped with his rope in his hand, closely calculating the animal’s distance and speed.

Bud and Stella were following the bull closely, both of them preparing their lariats for the throw.

As the bull charged, Ted’s rope was seen to leave his hand and go sailing through the air in graceful loops and curves that lengthened out one after the other.

One of the most difficult throws a cow-puncher can make with a lariat was that which Ted attempted.  He had to calculate to a degree the speed with which the bull was advancing toward him, and that at which the rope was leaving him.  To calculate the point where the two would come together would seem an almost impossible task.

But so nicely had Ted estimated it, that the open noose fell over the bull’s head and settled down, and, turning swiftly, Ted spurred Sultan to one side, and the bull, shaking his head and emitting short, angry bellows, rushed past.