Bud's right leg was over the cantle, all his weight on the left stirrup when the jerk came and the steer fell with a thump.

By good luck--so Bud afterwards asserted--he was off and had the steer tied before it had recovered its breath to scramble up.
He remounted, flipped off the loop and recoiled his rope while he went jogging up to meet a rider coming out to him.
If he expected thanks for what he had done, he must have received a shock.

Other riders had left their posts and were edging up to hear what happened, and Bud reined up in astonishment before the most amazing string of unseemly epithets he had ever heard.

It began with: "What'd you throw that critter for ?"--which of course is putting it mildly--and ended in a choked phrase which one man may not use to another's face and expect anything but trouble afterwards.
Bud unbuckled his gun and hung the belt on his saddle horn, and dismounted.

"Get off your horse and take the damnedest licking you ever had in your life, for that!" He invited vengefully.