ahead of the troop of other riders. Bashful Ike, the foreman, put spurs to his own mount and tried to catch the boss's niece. If anything happened to Jane Ann he knew that Old Bill would call him to account for it.
"Have a care there, Jinny!" he bawled "Look out that saddle don't give ye a crack."
The saddle bounded high in the air—sometimes higher than Jane Ann's head—and if she ran her mount in too close to the mad steer the saddle might knock her off her pony. Nor did she pay the least attention to Bashful Ike's advice. She was using the quirt on her mount and he was jumping ahead like a streak of light.
Jane Ann had roiled her rope again and it hung from her saddle. She had evidently formed a new plan of action since having the field to herself. The others—all but Ike—were now far behind.
"Have a care thar, Jinny!" called the foreman again. "He'll throw you!"
"You keep away, Ike!" returned the girl, excitedly. "This is my chance. Don't you dare interfere. I'll show those boys I can beat them at their own game."
"Sufferin' snipes! You look out, Jinny! You'll be killed!"
"I won't if you don't interfere," she yelled back at him.
