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It was widely scattered, and as the band of horsemen rode out toward it
the cattle lifted their heads for a moment and took a quiet survey, then
returned to their feeding.
Not so Gladiator.
The great white-and-black bull raised his head proudly, and his fierce,
steady eyes regarded them without fear.
Indeed, Gladiator knew no fear, whether of man or beast, wolf pack or
mountain lion, serpent or bird of prey.
He was monarch of that herd, and no one said him nay except Ted Strong,
who ruled the ranch and all that was on it, by the general consent of
his comrades and his own fitness for his rulership.
Ted and Gladiator had had numerous differences, and it was the bull that
had backed down every time.
Yet he did not fear Ted. Rather he hated him because he could not
conquer this quick, brave, and resourceful fellow.
"That bull will be the death of you some of these days," said Stella to
Ted once when Gladiator, resenting Ted's intrusion into the herd for the
purpose of cutting out some calves, charged him.


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