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.