Finding that he could not unseat his rider, the beast suddenly gave over his plunging, and bolted at furious speed down the smooth slope towards Plum Creek. Before they had gone half a furlong Ashton realized that he was on a blooded horse of unusual speed and a runaway. He could not hope to pull down so tough-mouthed a beast with his ordinary curb. The best he could do was to throw all his weight on the right rein. Unable altogether to resist the steady tug at his head, the racing horse gradually swerved until he was headed across the mesa towards the jagged, snow-streaked twin crests of Split Peak.
Horse and rider were still in the curve of their swift flight when Isobel Knowles came out into the porch, yawning behind her plump, sunbrowned hand. A glance at Gowan cut the yawn short. She looked alertly afield and at once caught sight of the runaway.
"Kid!--O-oh!" she cried. "Mr. Ashton!--on Rocket!"
Gowan spun about to her with a guilty start, but answered almost glibly: "You said he could ride, Miss Chuckie."
Knowles stepped out through the doorway, cocking his big blue-barreled Colt's. Gowan hastily pointed towards the runaway. Knowles looked, and dropped the revolver to his side. "What's up?" he growled.
"Kid--he--he put Mr. Ashton on Rocket!" breathlessly answered his daughter.
"Sorry to contradict you, Miss Chuckie," said Gowan. "He put himself on."
"He's on yet," dryly commented the cowman. "May be something to that boy, after all."
"Now, just stop fussing yourself, honey. He and Rocket are going smooth as axlegrease and bee-lining for Stockchute. How did the hawss start off?--skittish?"
"Enough to make the tenderfoot pull leather," said Gowan.
"If he stuck at all, with that fool saddle--!" rejoined Knowles. "Don't you worry, honey. He sure can fork a hawss--that tenderfoot."
"Oh, yes," the girl sighed with relief. "If Rocket started off bucking, and he kept his seat, of course it's all right. See him take that gully!"
"You sure gave me a start, honey, calling out that way.--Well, Kid, it's about time we were off. I'll get my hat."
Gowan stepped nearer the girl as her father went inside. "I'll leave it to the tenderfoot to tell you, Miss Chuckie. He'll have to own up I gave him fair warning. Told him he wouldn't need his spurs, and asked if he'd have another bit and saddle; but it wasn't any use. He's the kind that won't take advice."