MAX BRAND Alcatraz 1922 CONTENTS CHAPTER I. --CORDOVA II. --THE COMING OF DAVID III. --CONCERNING FIGHTERS IV. --THE STRENGTH OF THE WEAK V. --RETRIBUTION VI. --FREEDOM VII. --THE PROMISED LAND VIII. --MURDER IX. --THE STAMPEDE X. --THE THIEF XI. --THE FAILURE XII. --FROM THE HIP XIII. --THE BARGAIN XIV. --STRATEGY XV. --THE KING XVI. --RED PERRIS: ADVOCATE XVII. --INVISIBLE DANGER XVIII. --VICTORY XIX. --HERVEY TAKES A TRICK XX. --THE TRAP SHUTS XXI. --THE BATTLE XXII. --MCGUIRE SLEEPS XXIII. --LOBO XXIV. --THE CRISIS XXV. --THE LITTLE SMOKY XXVI. --PARTNERS XXVII. --THE END OF THE RACE ALCATRAZ _The characters, places, incidents and situations in this book areimaginary and have no relation to any person, place or actualhappening. _ CHAPTER I CORDOVA The west wind came over the Eagles, gathered purity from the evergreenslopes of the mountains, blew across the foothills and league widefields, and came at length to the stallion with a touch of coolness andenchanting scents of far-off things. Just as his head went up, just asthe breeze lifted mane and tail, Marianne Jordan halted her pony anddrew in her breath with pleasure. For she had caught from the chestnutin the corral one flash of perfection and those far-seeing eyes calledto mind the Arab belief. Says the Sheik: "I have raised my mare from a foal, and out of love forme she will lay down her life; but when I come out to her in themorning, when I feed her and give her water, she still looks beyond meand across the desert. She is waiting for the coming of a real man, sheis waiting for the coming of a true master out of the horizon!" Marianne had known thoroughbreds since she was a child and after comingWest she had become acquainted with mere "hoss-flesh, " but today for thefirst time she felt that the horse is not meant by nature to be theservant of man but that its speed is meant to ensure it sacred freedom. A moment later she was wondering how the thought had come to her. Thatglimpse of equine perfection had been an illusion built of spirit andattitude; when the head of the stallion fell she saw the daylight truth:that this was either the wreck of a young horse or the sad ruin of afine animal now grown old. He was a ragged creature with dull eyes andpendulous lip. No comb had been among the tangles of mane and tail foran unknown period; no brush had smoothed his coat. It was once a richred-chestnut, no doubt, but now it was sun-faded to the color of sand. He was thin. The unfleshed backbone and withers stood up painfully andshe counted the ribs one by one. Yet his body was not so broken as hisspirit. His drooped head gave him the appearance of searching for aspot to lie down. He seemed to have been left here by the cruelty of hisowner to starve and die in the white heat of this corral--a desertionwhich he accepted as justice because he was useless in the world. It affected Marianne like the resignation of a man; indeed there wasmore personality in the chestnut than in many human beings. Once he hadbeen a beauty, and the perfection which first startled her had been aghost out of his past. His head, where age or famine showed least, wasstill unquestionably fine. The ears were short and delicately made, theeyes well-placed, the distance to the angle of the jaw long--in brief, it was that short head of small volume and large brain space whichspeaks most eloquently of hot blood. As her expert eye ran over the restof the body she sighed to think that such a creature had come to such anend. There was about him no sign of life save the twitch of his skin toshake off flies. Certainly this could not be the horse she had been advised to see andshe was about to pass on when she felt eyes watching her from the steepshadow of the shed which bordered the corral. Then she made out a dapperolive-skinned fellow sitting with his back against the wall in such aposition of complete relaxation as only a Mexican is capable ofassuming. He wore a short tuft of black moustache cut well away from theedge of the red lip, a moustache which oddly accentuated his youth. Inbody and features he was of that feminine delicacy which yourlarge-handed Saxon dislikes, and though Marianne was by no means astalwart, she detested the man at once. For that reason, being a lady tothe tips of her slim fingers, her smile was more cordial than necessary. "I am looking for Manuel Cordova, " she said. "Me, " replied the Mexican, and managed to speak without removing thecigarette. "I'm glad to know you. " she answered. "I am Marianne Jordan. " At this, Manuel Cordova removed his cigarette, regardless of the asheswhich tumbled straightway down the bell-mouthed sleeve of his jacket;for a Mexican deems it highly indecorous to pay the slightest heed tohis tobacco ashes. Whether they land on chin or waistcoat they areallowed to remain until the wind carries them away. "The pleasure is to me, " said Cordova melodiously, and made painfulpreparations to rise. She gathered at once that the effort would spoil his morning and urgedhim to remain where he was, at which he smiled with the care of a moviestar, presenting an even, white line of teeth. Marianne went on: "Let me explain. I've come to the Glosterville fair tobuy some brood mares for my ranch and of course the ones I want are theColes horses. You've seen them?" He nodded. "But those horses, " she continued, checking off her points, "will not beoffered for sale until after the race this afternoon. They're allentered and they are sure to win. There's nothing to touch them and whenthey breeze across the finish I imagine every ranch owner present willwant to bid for them. That would put them above my reach and I can onlypray that the miracle will happen--a horse may turn up to beat them. Imade inquiries and I was told that the best prospect was ManuelCordova's Alcatraz. So I've come with high hopes, Seņor Cordova, andI'll appreciate it greatly if you'll let me see your champion. " "Look till the heart is content, seņorita, " replied the Mexican, and heextended a slim, lazy hand towards the drowsing stallion. "But, " cried the girl, "I was told of a real runner--" She squinted critically at the faded chestnut. She had been told of afour-year-old while this gaunt animal looked fifteen at least. However, it is one thing to catch a general impression and another to readpoints. Marianne took heed, now, of the long slope of the shoulders, theshort back, the well-let-down hocks. After all, underfeeding would dullthe eye and give the ragged, lifeless coat. "He is not much horse, eh?" purred Cordova. But the longer she looked the more she saw. The very leanness ofAlcatraz made it easier to trace his running-muscles; she estimated, too, the ample girth at the cinches where size means wind. "And that's Alcatraz?" she murmured. "That is all, " said the pleasant Cordova. "May I go into the corral and look him over at close range? I never feelthat I know a horse till I get my hands on it. " She was about to dismount when she saw that the Mexican was hesitatingand she settled back in the saddle, flushed with displeasure. "No, " said Cordova, "that would not be good. You will see!" He smiled again and rising, he sauntered to the fence and turned aboutwith his shoulders resting against the upper bar, his back to thestallion. As he did so, Alcatraz put forward his ears, which, inconnection with the dullness of his eyes, gave him a peculiarly foolishlook. "You will see a thing, seņorita!" the Mexican was chuckling. It came without warning. Alcatraz turned with the speed of a whiplashcurling and drove straight at the place where his master leaned. Marianne's cry of alarm was not needed. Cordova had already started, buteven so he barely escaped. The chestnut on braced legs skidded to thefence, his teeth snapping short inches from the back of his master. Hisfailure maddened Alcatraz. He reminded Marianne of the antics of a catwhen in her play with the mouse she tosses her victim a little too faraway and wheels to find her prospective meal disappearing down a hole. In exactly similar wise the stallion went around the corral in a whirlof dust, rearing, lashing out with hind legs and striking with fore, catching imaginary things in his teeth and shaking them to pieces. Whenthe fury diminished he began to glide up and down the fence, and therewas something so feline in the grace of those long steps and theintentness with which the brute watched Cordova that the girl remembereda new-brought tiger in the zoo. Also, rage had poured him full of suchstrength that through the dust cloud she caught again glimpses of thatfirst perfection. He came at last to a stop, but he faced his owner with a look of steadyhate. The latter returned the gaze with interest, stroking his face andsnarling: "Once more, red devil, eh? Once more you miss? Bah! But I, Ishall not miss!" It was not as one will talk to a dumb beast, for there was no mistakingthe vicious earnestness of Cordova, and now the girl made out that hewas caressing a long, white scar which ran from his temple across thecheekbone. Marianne glanced away, embarrassed, as people are whenanother reveals a dark and hidden portion of his character. "You see?" said Cordova, "you would not be happy in the corral with him, eh?" He rolled a cigarette with smiling lips as he spoke, but all the timehis black eyes burned at the chestnut. He seemed to Marianne half childand half old man, and both parts of him were evil now that she couldguess the whole story. Cordova campaigned through the country, racinghis horse at fairs or for side bets. For two reasons he kept the animalsystematically undernourished: one was that he was thereby able to getbetter odds; the other was that only on a weakened Alcatraz would hetrust himself. At this she did not wonder for never had she seen suchalmost human viciousness of temper in a dumb beast. "As for running, seņorita, " continued Cordova, "sometimes he does verywell--yes, very well. But when he is dull the spurs are nothing to him. " He indicated a criss-crossing of scars on the flank of the stallion andMarianne, biting her lips, realized that she must leave at once if shewished to avoid showing her contempt, and her anger. She was a mile down the road and entering the main street ofGlosterville before her temper cooled. She decided that it was best toforget both Alcatraz and his master: they were equally matched indevilishness. Her last hope of seeing the mares beaten was gone, andwith it all chance of buying them at a reasonable figure; for no matterwhat the potentialities of Alcatraz in his present starved condition hecould not compare with the bays. She thought of Lady Mary with thesunlight rippling over her shoulder muscles. Certainly Alcatraz wouldnever come within whisking distance of her tail! CHAPTER II THE COMING OF DAVID Having reached this conclusion, the logical thing, of course, was forMarianne to pack and go without waiting to see the race or hear thebidding for the Coles horses; but she could not leave. Hope is as blindas love. She had left the ranch saying to her father and to the foreman, Lew Hervey: "The bank account is shrinking, but ideals are worth morethan facts and I _shall_ improve the horses on this place. " It was arather too philosophical speech for one of her years, but Oliver Jordanhad merely shrugged his shoulders and rolled another cigarette; thecrushed leg which, for the past three years, had made him a cripple, hadtaught him patience. Only the foreman had ventured to smile openly. It was no secret that LewHervey disliked the girl heartily. The fall of the horse which madeJordan a semi-invalid, killed his ambition and self-reliance at the sameinstant. Not only was it impossible for him to ride since the accident, but the freeswinging self-confidence which had made him prosperousdisappeared at the same time; his very thoughts walked slowly on footsince his fall. Hervey gathered the reins of the ranch affairs more andmore into his own hands and had grown to an almost independent powerwhen Marianne came home from school. Having studied music and modernlanguages, who could have suspected in Marianne either the desire orthe will to manage a ranch, but to Marianne the necessity for followingthe course she took was as plain as the palm of an open hand. The bigestate, once such a money-maker, was now losing. Her father had losthis grip and could not manage his own affairs, but who had ever heard ofa hired man being called to run the Jordan business as long as there wasa Jordan alive? She, Marianne, was very much alive. She came West andtook the ranch in hand. Her father smiled and gave her whatever authority she required; in aweek the estate was hers to control. But for all her determination andconfidence, she knew that she could not master cattle-raising in a fewweeks. She was unfemininely willing to take advice. She even hunted forit, and though her father refused to enter into the thing even withsuggestions, a little help from Hervey plus her indomitable energy mighthave made her attempt a success. Hervey, however, was by no means willing to help. In fact, he wasprofoundly disgruntled. He had found himself, beyond all expectation, ina position almost as absolute and dignified as that of a real ownerwith not the slightest interference from Jordan, when on a sudden thearrival of this pretty little dark-eyed girl submerged him again in hisold role of the hired man. He took what Marianne considered a sneakingrevenge. He entered at once upon a career of the most perfectsubordination. No fault could be found with his work. He executed everycommission with scrupulous care. But when his advice was asked he becamea sphinx. "Some folks say one way and some another. Speaking personal, Idunno, Miss Jordan. You just tell me what to do and I'll do it. " This attitude irritated her so that she was several times on the vergeof discharging him, but how could she turn out so old an employee andone so painstaking in the duties assigned to him? Many a day she prayedfor "a new foreman or night, " but Hervey kept his job, and in spite ofher best efforts, affairs went from bad to worse and the moredesperately she struggled the more hopelessly she was lost. This affairof the horses was typical. No doubt the saddle stock were in sad need ofimproved blood but this was hardly the moment to undertake such anexpenditure. Having once suggested the move, the quiet smiles of Herveyhad spurred her on. She knew the meaning of those smiles. He was waitingtill she should exhaust even the immense tolerance of her father; whenshe fell he would swing again into the saddle of control. Yet she wouldgo on and buy the mares if she could. Hers was one of those militantspirits which, once committed, fights to the end along every line. Andindeed, if she ever contemplated surrender, if she were more than onceon the verge of giving way to the tears of broken spirit, the vague, uninterested eyes of her father and the overwise smiles of Hervey werewhips which sent her back into the battle. But today, when she regained her room in the hotel, she walked up anddown with the feeling that she was struggling against manifest destiny. And in a rare burst of self-pity, she paused in front of the window, gritting her teeth to restrain a flood of tears. A cowpuncher rocked across the blur of her vision on his pony, halted, and swung down in front of the stable across the street. The horsestaggered as the weight came out of the stirrup and that made Mariannewatch with a keener interest, for she had seen a great deal of mercilessriding since she came West and it always angered her. The cowpunchersused "hoss-flesh" rather than horses, a distinction that made her hot. If a horse were not good enough to be loved it was not good enough to beridden. That was one of her maxims. She stepped closer to the window. Certainly that pony had been cruelly handled for the little grey geldingswayed in rhythm with his panting; from his belly sweat dripped steadilyinto the dust and the reins had chafed his neck to a lather. Marianneflashed into indignation and that, of course, made her scrutinize therider more narrowly. He was perfect of that type of cowboy which shedetested most: handsome, lithe, childishly vain in his dress. About hissombrero ran a heavy width of gold-braid; his shirt was blue silk; hisbandana was red; his boots were shop-made beauties, soft and flexible;and on his heels glittered--_gilded spurs_! "And I'll wager, " thought the indignant Marianne, "that he hasn't tendollars in the world!" He unknotted the cinches and drew off the saddle, propping it againstone hip while he surveyed his mount. In spite of all his vainglory hewas human enough to show some concern, it appeared. He called for abucket of water and offered it to the dripping pony. Marianne represseda cry of warning: a drink might ruin a horse as hot as that. But thegay rider permitted only a swallow and then removed the bucket from thereaching nose. The old man who apparently sat all day and every day beside the door ofthe stable, only shifting from time to time to keep in shadow, passedhis beard through his fist and spoke. Every sound, even of the pantinghorse, came clearly to her through the open window. "Kind of small but kind of trim, that hoss. " "Not so small, " said the rider. "About fifteen two, I guess. " "Measured him?" "Never. " "I'd say nigher onto fifteen one. " "Bet my spurs to ten dollars that he's fifteen two; and that's good oddsfor you. " The old man hesitated; but the stable boy was watching him with a grin. "I'll take that bet if--" he began. The rider snapped him up so quickly that Marianne was angered again. Ofcourse he knew the height of his own horse and it would be criminal totake the old loafer's money, but that was his determination. "Get a tape, son. We'll see. " The stable boy disappeared in the shadow of the door and came back atonce with the measure. The grey gelding, in the meantime, had smelledthe sweetness of hay and was growing restive but a sharp word from therider jerked him up like a tug on his bit. He tossed his head andwaited, his ears flat. "Look out, Dad, " called the rider, as he arranged the tape to fall fromthe withers of the horse, "this little devil'll kick your head offquicker than a wink if he gets a chance. " "He don't look mean, " said the greybeard, stepping back in haste. "I like 'em mean and I keep 'em mean, " said the other. "A tame hoss islike a tame man and I don't give a damn for a gent who won't fight. " Marianne covertly stamped. It was so easy to convert her worries intoanger at another that she was beginning to hate this brutal-minded BeauBrummel of the ranges. Besides, she had had bitter experience with thesenoisy, careless fellows when they worked on her ranch. Her foreman wassuch a type grown to middle-age. Indeed her anger at the whole speciescalled "cowpuncher" now focused to a burning-point on him of the gildedspurs. The measuring was finished; he stepped back. "Fifteen one and a quarter, " he announced. "You win, Dad!" Marianne wanted to cheer. "You win, confound it! And where'll I get the mates of this pair? Youwin and I'm the underdog. " "A poor loser, too, " thought Marianne. She was beginning to round herconception of the man; and everything she added to the picture made herdislike him the more cordially. He had dropped on one knee in the dust and was busily loosening thespurs, paying no attention to the faint protests of the winner that he"didn't have no use for the darned things no ways. " And finally hedrowned the protests by breaking into song in a wide-ringing baritoneand tossing the spurs at the feet of the others. He rose--laughing--andMarianne, with a mental wrest, rearranged one part of herpreconception, yet this carelessness was only another form of the curseof the West and Westerners--extravagance. He turned now to a tousle-headed three-year-old boy who was wanderingnear, drawn by the brilliance of the stranger. "Keep away from those heels, kiddie. Look out, now!" The yellow-haired boy, however, dazed by this sudden centering ofattention on him, stared up at the speaker with his thumb in his mouth;and with great, frightened eyes--he headed straight for the heels of thegrey! "Take the hoss--" began the rider to the stable-boy. But thestable-boy's sudden reaching for the reins made the grey toss itshead and lurch back towards the child. Marianne caught her breath asthe stranger, with mouth drawn to a thin, grim line, leaped for theyoungster. The grey lashed out with vicious haste, but that very hastespoiled his aim. His heels whipped over the shoulder of his master asthe latter scooped up the child and sprang away. Marianne, grown sick, steadied herself against the side of the window; she had seen thebrightness of steel on the driving hoofs. A hasty group formed. The stable boy was guiltily leading the horsethrough the door and around the gaudy rider came the old man, and awoman who had run from a neighboring porch, and a long-moustached giant. But all that Marianne distinctly saw was the white, set face of therescuer as he soothed the child in his arms; in a moment it had stoppedcrying and the woman received it. It was the old man who uttered thethought of Marianne. "That was cool, young feller, and darned quick, and a nervy thing as Iever seen. " "Tut!" said the other, but the girl thought that his smile was a littleforced. He must have heard those metal-armed hoofs as they whirred pasthis head. "There is distinctly something worth while about these Westerners, afterall, " thought Marianne. Something else was happening now. The big man with the sandy, longmoustaches was lecturing him of the gay attire. "Nervy enough, " he began, "but you'd oughtn't to take a hoss aroundwhere kids are, a hoss that ain't learned to stop kicking. It's a foolthing to do, I say. I seen once where--" He stopped, agape on his next word, for the lectured had turned on thelecturer, dropped his hands on his hips, and broke into loud laughter. "Excuse me for laughing, " he said when he could speak, "but I didn't seeyou before and--those whiskers, partner--those whiskers are--" The laughter came again, a gale of it, and Marianne found herselfsmiling in sympathy. For they _were_ odd whiskers, to be sure. They hungstraight past the corners of the mouth and then curved sabre-like outfrom the chin. The sabre parts now wagged back and forth, as their ownermoved his lips over words that would not come. When speech did break outit was a raging torrent that made Marianne stop her ears with a shiver. Looking down the street away from the storming giant and the laughingcowpuncher, she saw that other folk had come out to watch, Westernlike. An Eastern crowd would swiftly hem the enemies in a close circle andcheer them on to battle; but these Westerners would as soon see far offas close at hand. The most violent expression she saw was the broad grinof the blacksmith. He was a fine specimen of laboring manhood, thatblacksmith, with the sun glistening on his sweaty bald head and over hisample, soot-darkened arms. Beside his daily work of molding iron withheat and hammer-blows, a fight between men was play; and now, with hishands on his hips, his manner was that of one relaxed in mood and readyfor entertainment. Presently he cast up his right arm and swayed to the left; then back;then rocked forward on his toes presenting two huge fists red withiron-rust and oil. It seemed that he was engaging in battle with some airyfigure before him. That was enough of a hint to make Marianne look again towards the pairdirectly below her; the hat of the gaudy cowpuncher lay in the dustwhere it had evidently been knocked by the first poorly aimed blow ofhim of the moustaches, and the owner of the hat danced away at a littledistance. Marianne saw what the hat had hitherto concealed, a shock offlame-red hair, and she removed her fingers from her ears in time tohear the big man roar: "This ain't a dance, damn you! Stand still andfight!" "Nope, " laughed the other. "It ain't a dance. It's a pile more fun. Comeon you--" The big man obscured the last of the insulting description of hisancestry with the rush of a bull, his head lowered and his fists doingduty as horns. Plainly the giant had only to get one blow home to endthe conflict, but swift and graceful as a tongue of fire dancing along alog the red-headed man flashed to one side, and as he whirled Mariannesaw that he was laughing still, drunk with the joy of battle. Goliathroared past, thrashing the air; David swayed in with darting fists. Theyclosed. They became obscure forms whirling in a fog of dust untilred-head leaped out of the mist. Goliath followed with the cloud boiling away from him, a mountain of aman above his foeman. "It's unfair!" shrilled Marianne. "That great brute and--" Red-head darted forward, a blue clad arm flicked out. She almost heardand felt the jar of that astonishing shock which halted Goliath in histracks with one foot raised. He wobbled an instant, then his great kneesbent, and dropping inert on his face the dust spurted like steam underthe impact. The crowd now washed in from every side to lift him up and revive himwith canteens of water, yet they were quite jovial in the midst of theirwork of mercy and Marianne gathered that the fall of Goliath was notaltogether unwelcome to the townsmen. She saw the bulky figure raised toa sitting posture, saw a dull-eyed face, bloody about the mouth, andlooked away hastily towards the red-headed victor. He was in the act of picking the torn fragments of his sombrero from thedust. It had probably come in contact with the giant's spurs as theywrestled, for the crown was literally ripped to tatters. And when itsowner beat out the dirt and placed the hat on his head, the fiery hairwas still visible through the rents. Yet he was not downhearted, itseemed. He leaned jauntily against a hitching post under her window androlled a cigarette, quite withdrawn from the crowd which was workingover his victim. Marianne began to feel that all she had seen was an ordinary chapter inhis life; yet in the mere crossing of that street he had lost his spurson a bet; saved a youngster from death at the risk of his own head, battled with a monster and now rolled a cigarette cheerily complacent. If fifty feet of his life made such a story what must a year of it be? As though he felt her wonder above him, he raised his head in the act oflighting his cigarette and Marianne was looking down into bright, whimsical blue eyes. She was utterly unconscious of it at the moment butat the sight of that happy face and all the dust-dimmed finery of thecavalier, Marianne involuntarily smiled. She knew what she had done themoment he grinned in response and began to whistle, and whistle he did, keeping the rhythm with the sway of his head: "At the end of the trail I'll be weary riding But Mary will wait with a smile at the door; The spurs and the bit had been chinking and chiding But the end of the trail--" Marianne stepped back from the window with the blood tingling in herface. She was terribly ashamed, for some reason, because she knew thewords of that song. "A cowpuncher--actually _whistling_ at me!" she muttered, "I've neverknown a red-headed man who wasn't insolent!" The whistling died out, a clear-ringing baritone began a new air: "Oh, father, father William, I've seen your daughter dear. Will you trade her for the brindled cow and the yellow steer? And I'll throw in my riding boots and.... " Marianne slammed down the window. A moment later she was horrified tofind herself smiling. CHAPTER III CONCERNING FIGHTERS The race-track had come into existence by grace of accident for ithappened that a lane ran a ragged course about a big field taking thecorners without pretense of making true curves, with almost anelbow-turn into the straightaway; but since the total distance around wasover a mile it was called the "track. " The sprints were run on thestraightaway which was more than the necessary quarter of a mile butoccasionally there was a longer race and then the field had to take thatdangerous circuit, sloppy and slippery with dust. The land enclosed wasused for the bucking contest, for the two crowning events of theGlosterville fiesta, the race and the horse-breaking, had been saved forthis last day. Marianne Jordan gladly would have missed the latterevent. "Because it sickens me to see a man fight with a horse, " sheoften explained. But she forced herself to go. She was in the Rocky Mountains, now, not on the Blue Grass. Here ridingbucking horses was the order of the day. It might be rough, but this wasa rough country. It was a day of undue humidity--and the Eagle Mountains were pyramids ofblue smoke. Closer at hand the roofs of Glosterville shone in the fiercesun and between the village and the mountains the open fields shimmeredwith rising heat waves. A hardy landscape meant only for a hardy people. "One can't adopt a country, " thought Marianne, "it's the country thatdoes the adopting. If I'm not pleased by what pleases other people inthe West, I'd better leave the ranch to Lew Hervey and go back East. " This was extraordinarily straight-from-the-shoulder thinking but all theway out to the scene of the festivities she pondered quietly. Theepisode of the mares was growing in importance. So far she had been ableto do nothing of importance on the ranch; if this scheme fell throughalso it would be the proverbial last straw. In spite of her intentions, she had delayed so long that the riding wasvery nearly ended before she arrived. Buckboards and automobiles linedthe edges of the field in ragged lines, but these did not supply enoughseats and many were standing. They weaved with a continual life; now andagain the rider of one of the pitching horses bobbed above the crowd, and the rattle of voices sharpened, with piercing single calls. Alwaysthe dust of battle rose in shining wisps against the sun and Marianneapproached with a sinking heart, for as she crossed the track andclimbed through the fence she heard the snort and squeal of an angry, fear-tormented horse. The crying of a child could not have affected herso deeply. The circle was too thick to be penetrated, it seemed, but as she drewcloser an opening appeared and she easily sifted through to the frontline of the circle. It was not the first time she had found that the wayof women is made easy in the West. Just as she reached her place a horsescudded away from the far end of the field with a rider yelling; theswaying head and shoulders back. He seemed to be shrinking from suchspeed, but as a matter of fact he was poised and balanced nicely for anychance whirl. When it had gained full speed the broncho pitched high inthe air, snapped its head and heels close together, and came downstiff-legged. Marianne sympathetically felt that impact jar home in herbrain but the rider kept his seat. Worse was coming. For sixty seconds thehorse was in an ecstasy of furious and educated bucking, flinging itselfinto odd positions and hitting the earth. Each whip-snap of thatstinging struggling body jarred the rider shrewdly. Yet he clung in hisplace until the fight ended with startling suddenness. The grey droppedout of the air in a last effort and then stood head-down, quivering, beaten. The victor jogged placidly back to the high-fenced corrals, with shoutsof applause going up about him. "Hey, lady, " called a voice behind and above Marianne. "Might be youwould like to sit up here with us?" It was a high-bodied buckboard with two improvised seats behind thedriver's place and Marianne thanked him with a smile. Afourteen-year-old stripling sprang down to help her but she managed thestep-up without his hand. She was taken at once, and almost literally, into the bosom of the family, three boys, a withered father, a work-fadedmother, all with curious, kindly eyes. They felt she was not their order, perhaps. The sun had darkened her skin but would never spoil it; intotheir sweating noonday she carried a morning-freshness, so they proppedher in the angle of the driver's seat beside the mother and made her athome. Their name was Corson; their family had been in the West "prettynigh onto always"; they had a place down the Taliaferro River; and theyhad heard about the Jordan ranch. All of this was huddled into the firsttwo minutes. They brushed through the necessaries and got at theexcitement of the moment. "I guess they ain't any doubt, " said Corson. "Arizona Charley wins. Hewon two years back, too. Minds me of Pete Langley, the way he rests in asaddle. Now where's this Perris gent? D'you see him? My, ain't theyshouting for Arizona! Well, he's pretty bad busted up, but I guess he'sstill good enough to hold this Perris they talk about. Where's Perris?" The same name was being shouted here and there in the crowd. Corsonstood up and peered about him. "Who is Perris?" asked Marianne. "A gent that come out of the north, up Montana way, I hear. He's beenbetting on himself to win this bucking contest, covering everybody'smoney. A crazy man, he sure is!" The voice drifted dimly to Marianne for she was falling into a pleasanthaze, comfortably aware of eyes of admiration lifted to her more andmore frequently from the crowd. She envied the blue coolness of themountains, or breathed gingerly because the sting of alkali-dust was inthe air, or noted with impersonal attention the flash of sun on a horsestruggling in the far off corrals. The growing excitement of the crowd, as though a crisis were approaching, merely lulled her more. So thevoice of Corson was half heard; the words were unconnotative sounds. "Let the winner pick the worst outlaw in the lot. Then Perris will ridethat hoss first. If he gets throwed he loses. If he sticks, then theother gent has just got to sit the same hoss--one that's already had theedge took off his bucking. Well, ain't that a fool bet?" "It sounds fair enough, " said Marianne. "Perris, I suppose, hasn'tridden yet. And Arizona Charley is tired from his work. " "Arizona tired? He ain't warmed up. Besides, he's got a hoss here thatPerris will break his heart trying to ride. You know what hoss they gothere today? They got Rickety! Yep, they sure enough got old Rickety!" He pointed. "There he comes out!" Marianne looked lazily in the indicated direction and then sat up, wideawake. She had never seen such cunning savagery as was in the head ofthis horse, its ears going back and forth as it tested the strength ofthe restraining ropes. Now and then it crouched and shuddered under thedetested burden of the saddle. It was a stout-legged piebald with thetell-tale Roman nose obviously designed for hard and enduring battle. Hewas a fighting horse as plainly as a terrier is a fighting dog. Arizona Charley, a tall man off a horse and walking with a limp, movedslowly about the captive, grinning at his companions. It was plain thathe did not expect the stranger to survive the test. A brief, deep-throated shout from the crowd. "There's Perris!" cried Corson. "There's Red Perris, I guess!" Marianne gasped. It was the devil-may-care cavalier who had laughed and fought andwhistled under the window of her room. He stepped from the thick of thecircle near Rickety and responded to the voice of the crowd by wavinghis hat. It would have been a trifle too grandiloquent had he not beenlaughing. "He's going through with it, " said Corson, shivering and chuckling atthe same time. "He's going to try Rickety. They look like one and thesame kind to me--two reckless devils, that hoss and Red Jim Perris!" "Is there real danger?" asked Marianne. Corson regarded her with pity. "Rickety _can_ be rode, they say, " he answered, "but I disrememberanybody that's done it. Look! He's a man-killer that hoss!" Perris had stepped a little too close and the piebald thrust out at himwith reaching teeth and striking forefoot. The man leaped back, stilllaughing. "Cool, all right, " said Corson judicially. "And maybe he ain't just ablow-hard, after all. There they go!" It happened very quickly. Perris had shaken hands with Arizona, thenturned and leaped into the saddle. The ropes were loosed. Ricketycrouched a moment to feel out the reality of his freedom, then burstaway with head close to the ground and ragged mane fluttering. There wasno leaning back in this rider. He sat arrowy-straight save that his leftshoulder worked back in convulsive jerks as he strove to get the head ofRickety up. But the piebald had the bit. Once his chin was tucked backagainst his breast his bucking chances were gone and he kept his nose aslow as possible, like the trained fighter that he was. There were noyells now. They received Rickety as the appreciative receive a greatartist--in silence. The straight line of his flight broke into a crazy tangle of criss-crosspitching. Out of this maze he appeared again in a flash of straightgalloping, used the impetus for a dozen jarring bucks, then reared andtoppled backward to crush the cowpuncher against the earth. Marianne covered her eyes, but an invisible power dragged her hand downand made her watch. She was in time to see Perris whisk out of thesaddle before Rickety struck the dirt. His hat had been snapped from hishead. The sun and the wind were in his flaming hair. Blue eyes and whiteteeth flashed as he laughed again. "I like 'em mean, " he had said, "and I keep 'em mean. A tame horse islike a tame man, and I don't give a damn for a fellow who won't fight!" Once that had irritated her but now, remembering, it rang in her ear toa different tune. As Rickety spun to his feet, Perris vaulted to thesaddle and found both stirrups in mid-leap, so to speak. The geldinginstantly tested the firmness of his rider's seat by vaulting high andlanding on one stiffened foreleg. The resultant shock broke two ways, like a curved ball, snapping down and jerking to one side. But hesurvived the blow, giving gracefully to it. It was fine riding, very fine; and the crowd hummed with appreciation. "A handsome rascal, eh?" said Mr. Corson. But she caught at his arm. "Oh!" gasped Marianne. "Oh! Oh!" Three flurries of wild pitching drew forth those horrified whispers. Butstill the flaming red head of the rider was as erect, as jaunty as ever. Then the quirt flashed above him and cut Rickety's flank; the crowdwinced and gasped. He was not only riding straight up but he was puttingthe quirt to Rickety--to Rickety! The piebald seemed to feel the sting of the insult more than the lash. He bolted across the field to gain impetus for some new and moreterrible feat but as he ran a yell from Perris thrilled across thecrowd. "They do that, some men. Get plumb drunk with a fight!" But Marianne did not hear Corson's remark. She watched Rickety slackenhis run as that longdrawn yell began, so wild and high that it put atingle in her nose. Now he was trotting, now he was walking, now hestood perfectly still, become of a sudden, an abject, cowering figure. The shout of the spectators was almost a groan, for Rickety had beenbeaten fairly and squarely at last and it was like the passing of someold master of the prize ring, the scarred veteran of a hundred battles. "What happened?" breathed Marianne. "Rickety's lost his spirit, " said Corson. "That's all. I've seen it cometo the bravest men in the world. A two-year-old boy could ride Ricketynow. Even the whip doesn't get a single buck out of the poor rascal. " The quirt slashed the flank of the piebald but it drew forth only a meektrot. The terrible Rickety went back to the corrals like a lamb! "Arizona's got a good man to beat, " admitted Corson, "but he's got achance yet. They won't get any more out of Rickety. He's not only beenrode--he's been broke. I could ride him myself. " "Mr. Corson, " said Marianne, full of an idea of her own, "I'll wagerthat Rickety is not broken in the least--except for Red Perris. " "Meaning Perris just sort of put a charm on him?" suggested Corson, smiling. "Exactly that. You see?" In fact, the moment Perris slipped from the saddle, Rickety rockedforward on his forelegs and drove both heels at one of the reckless whocame too near. A second later he was fighting with the activity andvenom of a cat to get away from the ropes. The crowd chattered itssurprise. Plainly the fierce old outlaw had not fought his last. "What _did_ Perris do to the horse?" murmured Marianne. "I don't know, " said Corson. "But you seem to have guessed something. See the way he stands there with his chin on his fist and studiesRickety! Maybe Perris is one of these here geniuses and us ordinaryfolks can only understand a genius by using a book on him. " She nodded, very serious. "There _is_ a use for fighting men, isn't there?" she brooded. "Use for 'em?" laughed Corson. "Why, lady, how come we to be sittinghere? Because gents have fought to put us here! How come this is part ofGod's country? Because a lot of folks buckled on guns to make it that!Use for a fighter? Well, Miss Jordan, I've done a little fighting of onekind and another in my day and I don't blush to think about it. Look atmy kid there. What do you think I'm proudest of: because he was head ofhis class at school last winter or because he could lick every other boyhis own size? First time he come home with a black eye I gave him adollar to go back and try to give the other fellow _two_ black eyes. Andhe done it! All good fighters ain't good men; I sure know that. But theynever was a man that was good to begin with and was turned bad byfighting. They's a pile of bad men around these parts that fight likelions; but that part of 'em is good. Yes sirree, they's plenty of usefor a fighting man! Don't you never doubt that!" She smiled at this vehemence, but it reinforced a growing respect forPerris. Then, rather absurdly, it irritated her to find that she was taking himso seriously. She remembered the ridiculous song: "Oh, father, father William, I've seen your daughter dear. Will you trade her for the brindled cow and the yellow steer?" Marianne frowned. The shout of the crowd called her away from herself. Far from broken bythe last ride, the outlaw horse now seemed all the stronger for theexercise. Discarding fanciful tricks, he at once set about sun-fishing, that most terrible of all forms of bucking. The name in itself is a description. Literally Rickety hurled himself atthe sun and landed alternately on one stiffened foreleg and then theother. At each shock the chin of Arizona Charley was flung down againsthis chest and at the same time his head snapped sideways with the unevenlurch of the horse. An ordinary pony would have broken his leg at thefirst or second of these jumps; but Rickety was untiring. He jarred tothe earth; he vaulted up again as from springs--over and over the samething. It would eventually have become tiresome to watch had not both horse andrider soon showed effects of the work. Every leap of Rickety's wasshorter. Sweat shone on his thick body. He was killing Arizona but hewas also breaking his own heart. Arizona weakened fast under thatcontinual battering at the base of his brain. His eyes rolled. He nolonger pretended to ride straight up, but clung to pommel and cantle. Atrickle of blood ran from his mouth. Marianne turned away only to findthat mild old Corson was crying: "Watch his head! When it begins to rollthen you know that he's stunned and the next jump or so will knock himout of the saddle as limp as a half filled sack. " "It's too horrible!" breathed the girl. "I can't watch!" "Why not? You liked it when a man beat a hoss. Now the tables are turnedand the hoss is beating the man. Ah, I thought so. There goes his head!Rolls as if his neck was broken. Now! Now!" Arizona Charley toppled loose-limbed from the saddle and lay twistedwhere he fell, but it had taken the last of Rickety's power. His legswere now braced, his head untriumphantly low, and the sweat drippedsteadily from him. He had not enough energy to flee from those whoapproached to lift Arizona from the ground. Corson was pounding his kneewith a fat fist. "Ever see a fight like that in your life? Nope, you never did! Meneither! But Lord, Lord, won't Red Jim Perris take a mule-load of coinout of Glosterville! They been giving five to one agin him. I wastouched a bit myself. " For the moment, Marianne was more keenly interested in the welfare ofArizona Charley. Perris, with others following, reached him first andstrong hands carried the unconscious champion towards that corner of thefield where the Corson buckboard stood; for there were thewater-buckets. They were close to the goal when Arizona recoveredsufficiently to kick himself loose feebly from his supporters. "What the hell's all this?" Marianne heard him say in a voice which hetried to make an angered roar but which was only a shrill quaver fromhis weakness. "Maybe I'm a lady? Maybe I've fainted or something? Not bya damned sight! Maybe I been licked by that boiled-down bit of hell, Rickety, but I ain't licked so bad I can't walk home. Hey, Perris, shakeon it! You trimmed me, all right, and you collect off'n me and a pilemore besides me. Here's my boodle. " At the mention of the betting a little circle cleared around Perris andfrom every side hands full of greenbacks were thrust forward. The latterpushed back his sombrero and scratched his head, apparently deep inthought. "It's a speech, boys, " cried Arizona Charley, supporting himself on theshoulder of a friend. "Give Red air; give him room; he's going to make aspeech! And then we'll pay him for what he's got to say. " There was much laughter, much slapping of backs. "That's Arizona, " remarked Corson. "Ain't he a game loser?" "He's a fine fellow, " said the girl, with emotion. "My heart goes out tohim!" "Does it, now?" wondered Corson. "Well, I'd of figured more on Perrisbeing the man for the ladies to look at. He's sure set up pretty! Now hemakes his little talk. " "Ladies and gents, " said Red Perris, turning the color of his sobriquet. "I ain't any electioneer when it comes to speech making. " "That's all right, boy, " shouted encouraging partisans. "You'll get myvote if you don't say a word. " "But I'll make it short, " said Perris. "It's about these bets. They'reall off. It just come to my mind that two winters back me and this sameRickety had a run in up Montana-way and he come out second-best. Well, he must of remembered me the way I just now remembered him. That's whyhe plumb quit when I let out a whoop. If he'd turned loose all histricks like he done with Arizona, why most like Charley would never ofhad to take his turn. I'd be where he is now and he'd be doing thelaughing. Anyway, boys, the bets are off. I don't take money on a surething. " It brought a shout of protest which was immediately drowned in a heartyyell of applause. "Now, don't that warm your heart, for you?" said Corson as the noisefell away a little. "I tell you what--" he broke off with a chuckle, seeing that she had taken a pencil and a piece of paper from her purseand was scribbling hastily: "Taking notes on the Wild West, MissJordan?" "Mental notes, " she said quietly, but smiling at him as she folded theslip. She turned to the stripling, who all this time had hardly takenhis eyes from her even to watch the bucking and to hear the speech ofPerris. "Will you take this to Jim Perris for me?" A gulp, a grin, a nod, he was down from the wagon in a flash and usinghis leanness to wriggle snakelike through the crowd. "Well!" chuckled Corson, not unkindly, "I thought it would be morePerris than Arizona in the wind-up!" She reddened, but not because of his words. She was thinking of theimpulsive note in which she asked Red Perris to call at the hotel afterthe race and ask for Marianne Jordan. Remembering his song from thestreet, she wondered if he, also, would have the grace to blush whenthey met. CHAPTER IV THE STRENGTH OF THE WEAK By simply turning about the crowd was in position to watch the race. Ofcourse it packed dense around the finish on both sides of the lane butCorson had chosen his position well, the white posts were not more thana dozen yards above them and they would be able to see the rush ofhorses across the line. It was pleasant to Marianne to turn her back onthe scene of the horse-breaking and face her own world which she knewand loved. The ponies were coming out to be paraded for admiration and to loosentheir muscles with a few stretching gallops. Each was ridden by hisowner, each bore a range saddle. To one accustomed to jockeys andracing-pads, these full-grown riders and cumbrous trappings made thecowponies seem small but they were finely formed, the pick of the range. The days of mongrel breeds are long since over in the West. Smallerheads, longer necks, more sloping shoulders, told of good blood crossedon the range stock. Still, the base-stock showed clearly when the Colesmares came onto the track with mincing steps, turning their proud headsfrom side to side and every one coming hard on the bit. Coles had takenno chances, and though he had been forced by the rules of the race toput up the regulation range saddles he had found the lightest riderspossible. Their small figures brought out the legginess of the mares;beside the compact range horses their gait was sprawling, but the wiseeye of Marianne saw the springing fetlocks kiss the dust and the long, telltale muscles. She cried out softly in admiration and pleasure. "You see the Coles mares?" she said. "There go the winners, Mr. Corson. The ponies won't be in it after two furlongs. " Corson regarded her with a touch of irritation: "Now, don't you be toosure, lady, " he growled. "Lots of legs, I grant you. Too much for me. Are they pure bred?" "No, " she answered, "there's enough cold blood to bring the price down. But Coles is a wise business man. After they've won this race in abunch they'll look, every one, like daughters of Salvator. See that! Oh, the beauties!" One of the range horses was loosed for a fifty yard sprint and as heshot by, the mares swayed out in pursuit. There was a marked differencebetween the gaits. The range horse pounded heavily, his head bobbing;the mares stepped out with long, rocking gallop. They seemed to be goingwith half the effort and less than half the speed, and yet, strangely, they very nearly kept up with the sprinter until their riders took themback to the eager, prancing walk. Marianne's eyes sparkled but thelittle exhibition told a different story to old Corson. He snorted withpleasure. "Maybe you seen that, Miss Jordan? You seen Jud Hopkin's roan go by themfancy Coles mares? Well, well, it done my heart good! This gent Colescomes out of the East to teach us poor ignorant ranchers what right hossflesh should be. He's going to auction off them half dozen mares afterthe race. Well, sir, I wouldn't give fifty dollars a head for 'em. Norneither will nobody else when they see them mares fade away in the homestretch; nope, neither will nobody else. " In this reference to over-wise Easterners there was a direct thrust atthe girl, but she accepted it with a smile. "Don't you think they'll last for the mile and a quarter, Mr. Corson?" "Think? I don't think. I know! Picture hosses like them--well, they'dought to be left in books. They run a little. Inside a half mile theybust down. Look how long they are!" "But their backs are short, " put in Marianne hastily. "Backs short?" scoffed Corson, "Why, lady look for yourself!" She choked back her answer. If the self-satisfied old fellow could notsee how far back the withers reached and how far forward the quarters, so that the true back was very short, it was the part of wisdom to letexperience teach him. Yet she could not refrain from saying: "You'll seehow they last in the race, Mr. Corson. " "We'll both see, " he answered. "There goes a gent that's going to losemoney today!" A big red-faced man with his hat on the back of his head and sweatcoursing down his cheeks, was pushing through the crowd calling with agreat voice: "Here's Lady Mary money. Evens or odds on Lady Mary!" "That's ColonelDickinson, " said Corson. "He comes around every year to play the raceshere and most generally he picks winners. But today he's gone wrong. Hiseye has been took by the legs of them Coles hosses and he's gone crazybetting on 'em. Well, he gets plenty of takers!" Indeed, Colonel Dickinson was stopped right and left to record wagers. "I got down a little bet myself, this morning, agin his Lady Mary. "Corson chuckled at the thought of such easy money. "What makes you so sure?" asked Marianne, for even if she were luckyenough to get the mares she felt that from Corson she could learnbeforehand the criticisms of Lew Hervey. "So sure? Why anybody with half an eye--" here he remembered that he wastalking to a lady and continued more mildly. "Them bay mares ain'thosses--they're tricks. Look how skinny all that underpinning is, MissJordan. " "When they fill out--" she began. "Tush! They won't never fill out proper. Too much leg to make a hoss. Too much daylight under 'em. Besides, what good would they be forcow-work? High headed fools, all of 'em, and a hoss that don't know enoughto run with his head low can't turn on a forty acre lot. Don't tell me!" He forbade contradiction by raising an imperious hand. Marianne was soexasperated that she looked to Mrs. Corson in the pinch, but that oldlady was smiling dimly behind her glasses; she seemed to be studying thesmoky gorges of the Eagles, so Marianne wisely deferred her answer andlistened to that unique voice which rises from a crowd of men and womenwhen horses are about to race. There is no fellow to the sound. Thevoice of the last-chance better is the deep and mournful burden; thesteady rattle of comment is the body of it; and the edge of the noise isthe calling of those who are confident with "inside dope. " Marianne, listening, thought that the sound in Glosterville was very much likethe sound in Belmont. The difference was in the volume alone. The hosseswere now lining up for the start, it was with a touch of malice thatMarianne said: "I suppose that's one of your range types? That faded oldchestnut just walking up to get in line?" Corson started to answer and then rubbed his eyes to look again. It was Alcatraz plodding towards the line of starters, his languid hoofsrousing a wisp of dust at every step. He went with head depressed, hissullen; hopeless ears laid back. On his back sat Manuel Cordova, resplendent in sky-blue, tight-fitting jacket. Yet he rode thespiritless chestnut with both hands, his body canted forward a little, his whole attitude one of desperate alertness. There was something soludicrous in the contrast between the hair-trigger nervousness of theMexican and the drowsy unconcern of the stallion that a murmur oflaughter rose from the crowd about the starting line and drifted acrossthe field. "I suppose you'll say that long hair is good to keep him warm inwinter, " went on the girl sarcastically. "As far as legs are concerned, he seems to have about as much as the longest of the mares. " Corson shook his head in depreciation. "You never can tell what a fool Mexican will do. Most like he's ridingin this race to show off his jacket, not because he has any hope ofwinning. That hoss ain't any type of range--" "Perhaps you think it's a thoroughbred?" asked Marianne. Corson sighed, feeling that he was cornered. "Raised on the range, all right, " he admitted. "But you'll find freakhosses anywhere. And that chestnut is just a plug. " "And yet, " ventured Marianne, "it seems to me that the horse has somepoints. " This remark drew a glance of scorn from the whole Corson family. Whatwould they think, she wondered, if they knew that her hopes centered onthis very stallion? Silence had spread over the field. The whisper ofCorson seemed loud. "Look how still the range hosses stand. They knowwhat's ahead. And look at them fool bays prance!" The Coles horses were dancing eagerly, twisting from side to side at thepost. "Oh!" cried Mrs. Corson. "What a vicious brute!" Alcatraz had wakened suddenly and driven both heels at his neighbor. Luckily he missed his mark, but the starter ran across the track andlessoned Cordova with a raised finger. Then he went back; there was abreath of waiting; the gun barked! The answer to it was a spurt of low-running horses with a white cloud ofdust behind, and Corson laughed aloud in his glee. Every one of thegroup in the lead was a range horse; the Coles mares were hanging in therear and last of all, obscured by the dust-cloud, Alcatraz ran sulkily. "But you wait!" said Marianne, sitting tensely erect. "Those ponies withtheir short legs can start fast, but that's all. When the mares begin torun--Now, now, now! Oh, you beauties! You dears!" The field doubled the first jagged corner of the track and the baymares, running compactly grouped, began to gain on the leaders hand overhand. Looking first at the range hosses and then at the mares, it seemedthat the former were running with twice the speed of the latter, but thelong, rolling gallop of the bays ate up the ground, and bore them downon the leaders in a bright hurricane. The cowpunchers, hearing thatvolleying of hoofbeats, went to spur and quirt to stave off theinevitable, but at five furlongs Lady Mary left her sisters and streakedaround the tiring range horses into the lead. Marianne cried out indelight. She had forgotten her hope that the mares might not win. Allshe desired now was that blood might tell and her judgment bevindicated. "They won't last, " Corson was growling, his voice feeble in the roar ofthe excited crowd. "They can't last that pace. They'll come back after awhile and the ponies will walk away to the finish. " "Have you noticed, " broke in Mrs. Corson, "that the poor old fadedchestnut seems to be keeping up fairly well?" For as the bay mares cut around into the lead, Alcatraz was seen at theheels of the range horses, running easily. It seemed, with a greatelastic stride. "But--but--it's not the same horse!" Marianne gasped. To be sure, Alcatraz in motion was transformed, the hollows among hisribs forgotten, and the broken spirit replaced by power, the electricpower of the racer. "It looks very much to me as if the Mexican is pulling that horse, too, "said Marianne. For Cordova rode with legs braced, keeping a tight pullthat bent the head of Alcatraz down. He might have served for a statueof fear. "And notice that he makes no effort to break around the rangehorses or through them. What's the matter with him?" At seven furlongs the mares were in a group of themselves, lengths infront and drawing away; the heads of the cowponies were going up, suresign that they were spent, and even Corson was gloomily silent. He wasremembering his bet against Lady Mary, and lo, Lady Mary was breezing infront well within her strength. One glance at her pricking ears told aneloquent story. Near them Marianne saw big Colonel Dickinson capering. And the sight inspired a shrewd suspicion. What if he knew thereputation of Alcatraz and to secure his bets on Lady Mary, had bribedCordova at the last moment to pull his horse. Certainly it seemed thatwas what the Mexican was doing. "There's a lady, " the colonel was shouting. "Go it, girl. Go it, beauty. Lady Mary! Lady Mary!" Marianne raised her field glasses and studied the rush of horses throughthe fog of dust. "It's just as I thought, " she cried, without lowering the glasses. "Thescoundrel is pulling Alcatraz! He rides as if he were afraid ofsomething--afraid that the horse might break away. Look, Mr. Corson. " "I dunno, " said Corson. "It sure does look sort of queer!" "Why, he's purposely keeping that horse in a pocket. Has him on therail. Oh, the villain!" It was a cry of shrill rage. "_He's sawing onthe bit!_ And the chestnut has his ears back. I can see the glint of hiseyes. As if he wants to run simply because he is being held. But there--there--there! He's got the bit in his teeth. His head goes out. Mr. Corson, is it too late for Alcatraz to win the race?" She dropped the glasses. There was no need of them now. Rounding intothe long home stretch Cordova made a last frightened effort to regaincontrol and then gave up, his eyes rolling with fear; Alcatraz had gothis head. He ran his own race from that point. He leaped away from the cowponiesin the first three strides and set sail for the leaders. Because of hisragged appearance his name had been picked up by the crowd and sentdrifting about the field; now they called on him loudly. For everyrancher and every ranch-hand in Glosterville was summoning Alcatraz tovindicate the range-stock against the long-legged mares which had beenimported from the East for the sole purpose of shaming the nativeproducts. The cry shook in a wailing chorus across the field:"Alcatraz!" and again: "Alcatraz!" With tingling cowboy yells inbetween. And mightily the chestnut answered those calls, bolting downthe stretch. The riders of the mares had sensed danger in the shouting of the crowd, and though their lead seemed safe they took no chances but sat down andbegan to ride out their mounts. Still Alcatraz gained. From thestretching head, across the withers, the straight-driving croup, thetail whipped out behind, was one even line. His ears were not flaggingback like the ears of a horse merely giving his utmost of speed; theywere dressed flat by a consuming fury, and the same uncanny rage gleamedin his eyes and trembled in his expanding nostrils. It was like a humaneffort and for that reason terrible in a brute beast. Marianne sawColonel Dickinson with the fingers of one hand buried in his plumpbreast; the other had reared his hat aloft, frozen in place in the midstof the last flourish; and never in her life had she seen such mingledincredulity and terror. She looked back again. There were three sections to the race now. Therange ponies were hopelessly out of it. The Coles horses ran well in thelead. Between, coming with tremendous bounds, was Alcatraz. He got nohelp from his rider. The light jockey on Lady Mary was aiding his mountby throwing his weight with the swing of her gallop, but Manuel Cordovawas a leaden burden. The most casual glance showed the man to be in ablue funk; he rode as one astride a thunderbolt and Alcatraz had bothto plan his race and run it. A furlong from the finish he caught the rearmost of the mares and cutaround them, the dust spurting sidewise. The crowd gasped, for as hepassed the bays it was impossible to judge his speed accurately; andafter the breath of astonishment the cheers broke in a wave. There was aconfusion of emotion in Marianne. A victory for the chestnut would be acoup for her pocketbook when it came to buying the Coles horses, but itwould be a distinct blow to her pride as a horsewoman. Moreover, therewas that in the stallion which roused instinctive aversion. Hatred forCordova sustained him, for there was no muscle in the lean shoulders orthe starved quarters to drive him on at this terrific pace. In the corner of her vision she saw old Corson, agape, pale withexcitement, swiftly beating out the rhythm of Alcatraz's swinging legs;and then she looked to Lady Mary. Every stride carried the bay back tothe relentless stallion. Her head had not yet gone up; she was stillstretched out in the true racing form; but there was a roll in hergallop. Plainly Lady Mary was a very, very tired horse. She shot in to the final furlong with whip and spur lifting her on, every stroke brought a quivering response; all that was in her strongheart was going into this race. And still the chestnut gained. At thesixteenth her flying tail was reached by his nose And still he ate upthe distance. Yet spent as the mare was, the chestnut was much farthergone. If there was a roll in her weary gallop, there was a stagger inhis gait; still he was literally flinging himself towards the finish. Nohelp from his rider certainly, but every rancher in the crowd wasshouting hoarsely and swinging himself towards the finish as thoughthat effort of will and body might, mysteriously, be transmitted to thestruggling horse and give him new strength. Fifty yards from the end his nose was at Lady Mary's shoulder andMarianne saw the head of the mare jerk up. She was through but thestallion was through also. He had staggered in his stride, drunkenly. She saw him shake his head, saw him fling forward again, and the snakyhead crept once more to the neck of the mare, to her ears, and on andon. Five hundred voices bellowed his name to lift him to the finish:"Alcatraz!" Then they were over the line and the riders were pulling up. It was not hard to stop Alcatraz. He went by Marianne at a reeling trot, his legs shambling weakly and his head drooping, a weary rag ofhorseflesh with his ears still gloomily flattened to his neck. But who had won? The uproar was so terrific that Marianne could notdistinguish the name of the victor as the judges called it, waving theirarms to command silence. Then she saw Colonel Dickinson walking withfallen head. The fat man was sagging in his step. His face had grownpale and pouchy in the moment. And she knew that the ragged chestnut hadindeed conquered. Courage is the strength of the weak but in Alcatrazhatred had occupied that place. CHAPTER V RETRIBUTION Coles had advertised the auction sale of the mares to take placeimmediately after the race and though he would gladly have postponed ithe had to live up to his advertisement. Naturally the result wasdisastrous. The ranchers had seen the ragged Alcatraz win against theimported horses and they felt they could only show their localpatriotism by failing to bid. There were one or two mocking offers of ahundred dollars a head for the lot. "Something pretty for my girl toride, " as one of the ranchers phrased it, laughing. The result was thatevery one of the mares was knocked down to Marianne at a ludicrouslylow price; so low that when it was over and Coles strolled about withher to indicate the size of her bargain she felt that she was moving ina dream. "It's easy to see that you're not Western, " he said in the end, "but youhave a Western horse to thank for putting this deal through--I meanAlcatraz. " "He's too ugly for that, " said Marianne, and yet on her way back to thehotel she realized that the sun-faded chestnut had truly proved a goldmine to her. It had been, she felt, the luckiest day of her businesslife, for she knew that the price she had paid for the mares was lessthan half a reasonable valuation of them. Here was her ranch readystocked, so to speak, with fine horses. It only needed, now, to end thetyrannical sway of Lew Hervey and in that fighting man of men, RedPerris, Marianne felt that the solution lay. Once in her room at the hotel, she looked about her in some dismay. Ofcourse she was merely an employer receiving a prospective employee toexamine his qualifications, but she also remained, in spite of herself, a girl receiving a man. She was glad that no one was there to watch withquizzical eye as she rearranged the furniture; she was doubly glad thathe could not watch her at the mirror. She gave herself the most criticalexamination since she left the East and on the whole she approved of thechanges. The stirring life in the open had darkened the olive of herskin, she found, but also had made it more translucent; the curve of hercheek was pleasantly filled; her throat rounder; her head better poised. And above all excitement gave her the vital color. She paused at this point to wonder why a stray cowpuncher should makeher flush but immediately decided that he had nothing to do with it; itwas the purchase of the mares that kept alive the little thrill ofhappiness. But Marianne was essentially honest and when her heart jumpedas she heard a swift, light step come down the hall and pause at herdoor, she admitted at once that horses had nothing to do with thematter. She wished ardently that she had made the discovery sooner. As it was, before she composed herself, he had knocked, been bidden in and stoodbefore her. She knew, inwardly dismayed, that her eyes were wide, hercolor high, and her whole expression one of childish expectancy. Itcomforted her greatly to find that he was hardly more at ease than she. He made futile efforts to rub some dust from his shirt. "I wanted to get fixed up, " he said, "but the note said to come _right_after the race--Miss Jordan. " In fact he made a harum-scarum figure. The fight with him of themoustaches had produced rents invisible at a distance but distinct atclose hand and the dust and the sweat had faded the blue of his shirtand the red of his bandana. But the red flame of that hair and the keenblue of that eye--they, to be sure, were not faded. She discovered otherthings as he crossed the room to her. That he was far shorter than hehad seemed when he fought in the street. Indeed, he was middle heightand slenderly made at that. She felt that looking at him from her windowand watching him ride Rickety she had only seen the spirit of the manand not the physical fact at all. He shook hands. She was glad to see that he neither peered at her slylyas a vain man is apt to do when he meets a girl who has sought him outnor met her sullenly as is the habit of the bashful Westerner. His headwas high, his glance straight, and his smile appreciated her with frankenjoyment. She tried to match her speech with his outright demeanor: "I have abusiness offer to make. I won't take a great deal of your time. Tenminutes will do. Won't you sit down, Mr. Perris?" She took his tattered hat and pointed out a seat to him, noting, as sheherself sat down, that he was as erect in his chair as he had beenstanding. There was something so adventurously restless about Red Perristhat she thought of a thoroughbred fresh from the stable; just as ablooded hunter is apt to be "too much horse under the saddle, " so shewas inclined to feel that Perris was "too much man. " Something about himwas always moving. Either his lean fingers fretted on the arm of thechair, or his foot stirred, or his glance flickered, or his head turnedproudly. Going back to the thoroughbred comparison she decided thatPerris badly needed to have a race or two under his belt before he wouldbe worked down to normal. She noted another thing: at close hand he wasmore handsome. In the meantime, since she had to talk, it would be pleasanter to findsome indirect approach. One was offered by the fob which hung outsidethe watchpocket of his trousers. It was a tarnished, misshapen lump ofmetal. "I can't help asking about that fob, " she said. "I've never seen oneeven remotely like it. " He fingered it with a singular smile. "Tell you about it, " he said amiably enough. "I was standing by lookingat a large-sized fracas one day and me doing nothing--just as peacefulas an old plough-hoss--when a gent ups and drills me in the leg. Hisbullet had to cut through my holster and then it jammed into my thighbone. Put me in bed for a couple of months and when I got out I had theslug fixed up for a fob. Just so's I could remember the man that shotme. That's about five years back. I ain't found him yet, but I'm stillremembering, you see?" He finished the anecdote with a chuckle which died out as he saw hereyes widen with horror. Five years ago? she was thinking, he must havebeen hardly more than a boy. How many other chapters as violent as thiswere in his story? "And--he didn't even offer to pay your doctor bill, I'll wager?" "Him?" Perris chuckled again. "He'll pay it, some day. It's justpostponed--slow collection--that's all!" He shrugged the thought of itaway, and straightened a little, plainly waiting to hear her business. But her mind was still only half on her own affairs as she begantalking. "I have to go into the affairs of our ranch a little, " she said, "sothat you can understand why I've asked you to come here. My father washurt by a fall from a horse several years ago and the accident made himan invalid. He can't sit a saddle and because of that he has lost alltouch with his business. Worst of all, he doesn't seem to care. Theresult was that everything went into the hands of the foreman, but theforeman was not very successful. As a matter of fact the ranch became alosing investment and I came out to try to run it. I suppose thatsounds foolish?" She looked sharply at him, but to her delight for the first time hiseyes had lighted with a real enthusiasm. "It sounds pretty fine to me, " said Red Perris. "The foreman doesn't think so, " she answered. "He wants his oldauthority. " "So he makes your trail all uphill?" "By simply refusing to advise me. My father won't talk business. LewHervey won't. I'm trying to run a dollar business with a cent's worthof knowledge and no experience. I can't discharge Hervey; his servicehas been too long and faithful. But I want to have someone up there whowill go into training to take Hervey's place eventually. Someone whoknows cattle and can tell me what to do now and then. Mr. Perris, do youknow the cow business?" Some of his interest faded. "Most folks raised in these parts do, " he answered obliquely. "I shouldthink you could get a dozen anywhere. " She explained eagerly: "It's not so simple. You see, Lew Hervey israther a rough character. In the old days I think he was quite afighter. I guess he still is. And he's gathered a lot of fighting menfor cowpunchers on the ranch. When he sees me bring in an understudy forhis part, so to speak, I'm afraid he might make trouble unless he wasconvinced it would be safer to keep his hands off the new man. " The gloom of Perris returned. He was still politely attentive, but hishead turned, and the eager eyes found something of interest across thestreet. She knew her grip on him was failing and she struggled to regainit. Here was her man, she knew. Here was one who would ride the fiercestoutlaw horse on the ranch; wear out the toughest cowboy; play with themto weariness when they wanted to play, fight with them to exhaustionwhen they wanted to fight, and as her right-hand man, advise her for thebest. "As for terms, the right man can make them for himself, " she concluded, hopelessly: "Mr. Perris, I think you could be the man for the place. What do you say to trying?" He paused, diffidently, and she knew that in the pause he was huntingfor polite terms of refusal. "I'll tell you how it is. You're mighty kind to make the offer. Youhaven't seen much of me and that little bit has been--pretty rough. " Helaughed away his embarrassment. "So I appreciate your confidence--a lot. But I'm afraid that I'd be a tolerable lot like Hervey. " He hurried onlest she should take offense. "You see, I don't like orders. " "Of course if it were a man who made the offer to you--" she beganangrily. He raised his hand. There were little touches of formal courtesy in himso contrasted with what she had seen of him in action, so at variancewith the childishly gaudy clothes he wore, that it put Mariannecompletely at sea. "It's just that I like my own way. I've been a rolling stone all mylife. About the only moss I've gathered is what you see. " He touched thedust-tarnished gold braid on his sombrero and his twinkling eyesinvited her to mirth. But Marianne was sternly silent. She knew that hercolor was gone and that her beauty had in large part gone with it; areflection that did not at all help her mood or her looks. "I get my funout of playing a free hand, " he was concluding. "I don't like partners. Not that I'm proud of it, but so you can see where I stand. If I don'tlike a bunkie you can figure why I don't want a boss. " She nodded stiffly, and at the unamiable gesture she saw him shrug hisshoulders very slightly, his eyes wandered again as though he wereseeking for a means to end the interview. Marianne rose. "I see your viewpoint, Mr. Perris, " she said coldly. "And I'm sorry youcan't accept my offer. " He came to his feet at the same moment, but still he lingered a moment, turning his hat thoughtfully so that she hoped, for an instant, that hewas on the verge of reconsidering. After all, she should have used morepersuasion; she was firmly convinced that at heart men are very closeto children. Then his head went up and he shook away the mood which hadcome over him. "Some time I'll come to it, " he admitted. "But not yet a while. I takeit mighty kind of you to have thought I could fill the bill and--I'mwishing you all sorts of luck, Miss Jordan. " "Thank you, " said Marianne, and hated herself for her unbendingstiffness. At the door he turned again. "I sure hope it's easy for you to forget songs, " he said. "Songs?" echoed Marianne, and then turned crimson with the memory. "'You see, " explained Red Jim Perris, "it's a bad habit I've picked up--of doing the first fool thing that comes into my head. Good-bye, MissJordan. " He was gone. She felt, confusedly, that there were many thing? she should have saidand at the same time there was a strange surety that sometime she wouldsee him again and say them. She walked absently to the window whichopened on the vacant lot to the rear of the hotel. Red Perris vanished from her mind, for below her she saw Cordova in theact of tethering Alcatraz to the rack which stood in the middle of thelot; saddle and bridle had been removed--the stallion wore only a stouthalter. The Mexican kept on the far side of the rack and whipped his knottogether hastily; it was not till he sprang back from his work that shesaw the snaky length of an eight foot blacksnake uncoil from his hand. He passed the lash slowly through his fingers, while surveying thestallion with great complacence. The ears of Alcatraz flattened back, asufficient proof that he knew what was coming; he maintained his wearyattitude, but it now seemed one of despair. As for Marianne she refusedto admit the ugly suspicion which began to occur to her. But Cordovaleft her only a moment for doubt. The black streak curled around his head, and through the open window sheheard the crack of the lash-end. Alcatraz did not stir under the blow. Once more the blacksnake whirled, and Cordova leaned back to give thestroke the full stretch of arm and body; yet Alcatraz did not so much aslift an ear. Only when the lash hung in mid-air did he stir. The ropewhich tethered him hung slack, and this enabled the stallion to giveimpetus to his backward leap. All the weight of his body, all the strainof his leg muscles snapped the rope taut. It vibrated to invisibilityfor an instant, then parted with a sound as loud as the fall of thewhip. The straining body of Alcatraz, so released, toppled sidewise. He rolled like a dog in the dust, and when, with the agility of a dog, he gained his feet, Cordova was fleeing towards the hotel with ahorror-stricken face. Even then she could not understand his terror--not until she saw thatAlcatraz had wheeled and was bolting in hot pursuit. He came like the"devil-horse" that the Mexican called him, with his ears flattened andhis mouth gaping; he came with such velocity that Cordova, running asonly consummate terror can make a man run, seemed to be racing on atreadmill--literally standing still. The picket fence which set off the back yard of the hotel gave the manan instant of delay--a terribly vital instant, indeed, that seemed toMarianne to contain long, long minutes. But here he was over andrunning again. In her dread she wondered why he was not shrieking foraid, but the face of Cordova was rigid--a nightmare mask! Twenty steps, now, to the hotel, and surely there was still hope. No, for Alcatraz sailed across the pickets with a bound that cut in two thedistance still dividing him from his master. It had all happened, perhaps, within the space of three breaths. Now Marianne leaned out ofthe window and screamed her warning, for the faded chestnut was on thevery heels of the Mexican. He raised his contorted face at her cry, thenthrew up both his arms to her in a gesture she could never forget. "Shoot!" yelled Cordova. "Amigo, amigo, shoot! Quick--" Then Alcatraz struck him! Half the bones in his body must have been broken by the impact. It spunhim over and over in the dust, yet as the impetus of the chestnutcarried him far past, Cordova struggled to his feet and attempted toflee again. Alas, it was only a step! His left leg crumpled under him. He toppled sideways, still wriggling and twisting onwards through thedirt--and then Alcatraz struck him again. This time is was no blind rush. Back and forth, up and down, he crossedand recrossed, wheeled and reared and stamped, until his one whitestocking was crimsoned and spurts of red flew out and turned black inthe dust. The horror which had choked her relaxed and Marianne shrieked again. Itwas that second cry which saved a faint spark of life for Cordova for atthe sound the stallion leaped sidewise from the body of his victim, lifted his head towards the half fainting girl in the window, andtrumpeted a great neigh of defiance. Still neighing he swerved away intoa gallop, cleared the fence a second time, and fled from view. CHAPTER VI FREEDOM Towards the Eagles, rolling up like wind-blown smoke, Alcatraz fled, cleared one by one the fences about the small fields near Glosterville, and so came at last to the broader domains under the foothills. Here, ona rise of ground, he halted for the first time and looked back. The heat waves, glimmering up endlessly, obscured Glosterville, but thewind, from some hidden house among the hills, bore to him wood-smokescents with a mingling of the abhorrent odors of man. It made many anold scar of spur-gore and biting whiplash tingle; it was a background ofpain which was like seasoning for the new delight of freedom. As though there was a poundage of joy and additional muscle inself-mastery, the frame of the chestnut filled, his neck arched, andthere came into his eyes that gleam which no man can describe and whichfor lack of words he calls the light of the wild. Fear, to be sure, was still with him; would ever be with him, for thethought of man followed like galloping horses surrounding him, but whata small shadow was that in the sunshine of this new existence! His lifehad been the bitterness of captivity since Cordova took in part paymentof a drunken gambling debt a sickly foal out of an old thoroughbredmare. The sire was unknown, and Cordova, disgusted at having to acceptthis wretched horseflesh in place of money, had beaten the six months'old colt soundly and turned it loose in the pasture. There followed abrief season of happiness in the open pasture but when the new grasscame, short and thick and sweet and crisp under tooth, Cordova came bythe pasture and saw his yearling flirting away from the fastest of theolder horses with a stretch gallop that amazed the Mexican. He leaned amoment on the fence watching with glittering eyes and then he passedinto a dream. At the end of the dream he took Alcatraz out of thepasture and into the stable. That had been to Alcatraz, like the firstcalamity falling on Job, the beginning of sorrow and for three years andmore he had endured not in patience but with an abiding hatred. For agreat hatred is a great strength, and the hatred for Cordova made thechestnut big of heart to wait. He had learned to season his days withthe patience of the lynx waiting for the porcupine to uncurl or thepatience of the cat amazingly still for hours by the rat-hole. In such amanner Alcatraz endured. Once a month, or once a year, he found anopening to let drive at the master with his heels, or to rear andstrike, or to snap with his teeth wolfishly. If he missed it meant abeating; if he landed it meant a beating postponed; and so the dream hadgrown to have the man one day beneath his feet. Now, on the hilltop, every nerve in his forelegs quivered in memory of the feel of live fleshbeneath his stamping hoofs. It is said that sometimes one victory in the driving finish of a closerace will give a horse a great heart for running and one defeat, similarly, may break him. But Alcatraz, who had endured so many defeats, was at last victorious and the triumph was doubly sweet. It was not thework of chance. More than once he had tested the strength of that oldhalter rope, covertly, with none to watch, and had felt it stretch andgive a little under the strain of his weight; but he had long sincelearned the futility of breaking ropes so long as there were stablewalls or lofty corral fences to contain him. A moment of local freedommeant nothing, and he had waited until he should find open sky and clearcountry; this was his reward of patience. The short, frayed end of the rope dangled beneath his chin; his neckstung where the rope had galled him; but these were minor ills andfreedom was a panacea. Later he would work off the halter as he aloneknew how. The wind, swinging sharply to the north and the west, broughtthe fragrance of the forests on the slopes of the Eagles, and Alcatrazstarted on towards them. He would gladly have waited and rested where hewas but he knew that men do not give up easily. What one fails to do aherd comes to perform. Moreover, men struck by surprise, men stalkedwith infinite cunning; the moment when he felt most secure in his stalland ate with his head down, blinded by the manger, was the very momentwhich the Mexican had often chosen to play some cruel prank. The lip ofAlcatraz twitched back from his teeth as he remembered. This lesson waswritten into his mind with the letters of pain: in the moment ofgreatest peace, beware of man! That day he journeyed towards the mountains; that night he chose thetallest hill he could find and rested there, trusting to the wideprospect to give him warning; and no matter how soundly he slept thehorrid odor of man approaching would bring him to his feet. No man camenear but there were other smells in the night. Once the air near theground was rank with fox. He knew that smell, but he did not know thefainter scent of wildcat. Neither could he tell that the dainty-footedkiller had slipped up within half a dozen yards of his back and croucheda long moment yearning towards the mountain of warm meat but knowingthat it was beyond its powers to make the kill. A thousand futile alarms disturbed Alcatraz, for freedom gave the nightsnew meanings for him. Sometimes he wakened with a start and felt thatthe stars were the lighted lanterns of a million men searching for him;and sometimes he lay with his head strained high listening to thestrange silence of the mountains and the night which has a pulse in itand something whispering, whispering forever in the distance. Hunted menhave heard it and to Alcatraz it was equally filled with charm andterror. What made it he could not tell. Neither can men understand. Perhaps it is the calling of the wild animals just beyond ear shot. Thatovertone of the mountains troubled and frightened Alcatraz on his firstnight; eventually he was to come to love it. He was up in the first grey of the dawn hunting for food and he found itin the form of bunchgrass. He had been so entirely a stable-raised horsethat this fodder was new to him. His nose assured him over and overagain that this was nourishment, but his eyes scorned the dusty patcheseight or ten inches across and half of that in height, with a few tallerspears headed out for seed. When he tried it he found it delicious, andas a matter of fact it is probably the finest grass in the world. He ate slowly, for he punctuated his cropping of the grass with glancestowards the mountains. The Eagles were growing out of the night, turningfrom purple-grey to purple-blue, to daintiest lavender mist in thehollows and rosy light on the peaks, and last the full morning came overthe sky at a step and the day wind rose and fluffed his mane. He regarded these changes with a kindly eye, much as one who has neverseen a sunrise before; and just as he had always made the corral intowhich he was put his private possession, and dangerous ground for anyother creature, so now he took in the down-sweep of the upper range andthe big knees of the mountains pushing out above the foothills and thehills themselves modelled softly down towards the plain, and it seemedto Alcatraz that this was one great corral, his private property. Thehorizon was his fence, advancing and receding to attend him; all betweenwas his proper range. He took his station on a taller hilltop and gavevoice to his lordliness in a neigh that rang and re-rang down a hollow. Then he canted his head and listened. A bull bellowed an answer fainterthan the whistle of a bird from the distance, and just on the verge ofearshot trembled another sound. Alcatraz did not know it, but it madehim shudder; before long he was to recognize the call of the loferwolf, that grey ghost which runs murdering through the mountains. Small though the sounds were, they convinced Alcatraz that his claim todominion would be mightily disputed. But what is worth having at all ifit is not worth fighting for? He journeyed down the hillside steppingfrom grass knot to grass knot. All the time he kept his sensitivenostrils alert for the ground-smell of water and raised his head frommoment to moment to catch the upper-air scents in case there might bedanger. At length, before prime, he came down-wind from a water-hole andgalloped gladly to it. It was a muddy place with a slope of greenishsun-baked earth on all sides. Alcatraz stood on the verge, snuffed thestale odor in disgust and then flirted the surface water with his upperlip before he could make himself drink. Yet the taste was far from evil, and there was nothing of man about it. Yonder a deer had stepped, histiny footprint sun-burned into the mud, and there was the sprawling, sliding track of a steer. Alcatraz stepped further in. The feel of the cool slush was pleasant, working above his hoofs and over the sensitive skin of the fetlockjoint. He drank again, bravely and deep, burying his nose as a goodhorse should and gulping the water. And when he came out and stamped themud from his feet he was transformed. He had slept and eaten and drunkin his own home. After that, he idled through the hills eating much, drinking often, andmaking up as busily as he could in a few weeks for the long years ofsemi-starvation under the regime of the Mexican. His body respondedamazingly. His coat grew sleek, his barrel rounded, his neck arched withnew muscles and the very quality of mane and tail changed; he became thehorse of which he had previously been the caricature. It was a lonelylife in many ways but the very loneliness was sweet to the stallion. Moreover, there was much to learn, and his brain, man-trained by hislong battle against a man, drank in the lessons of the wild country withastonishing rapidity. Had it not been for intervention from the GreatEnemy, he might have continued for an indefinite period in the pleasantfoothills. But Man found him. It was after some weeks, while he was intentlywatching a chipmunk colony one day. Each little animal chattered at thedoor of his home and so intent was Alcatraz's attention that he had nowarning of the approach of a rider up the wind until the gravel closebehind spurted under the rushing hoofs of another horse and the deadlyshadow of the rope swept over him. Terror froze him for what seemed along moment under the swing of the rope, in reality his side-leap wasswift as the bound of the wild cat and the curse of the unluckycowpuncher roared in his ear. Alcatraz shot away like a thrown stone. The pursuit lasted only fiveminutes, but to the stallion it seemed five ages, with the shouting ofthe man behind him, for while he fled every scar pricked him and onceagain his bones ached from every blow which the Mexican had struck. Atthe end of the five minutes Alcatraz was hopelessly beyond reach and thecowpuncher merely galloped to the highest hilltop to watch the runner. As far as he could follow the course, that blinding speed was notabated, and the cowpuncher watched with a lump growing in his throat. Hehad fallen into a dream of being mounted on a stallion which no horse inthe mountains could overtake and which no horse in the mountains couldescape. To be safe in flight, to be inescapable in pursuit--that was, ina small way, to be like a god. But when Alcatraz disappeared in the horizon haze, the cowpuncherlowered his head with a sigh. He realized that such a creature was notfor him, and he turned his horse's head and plodded back towards theranchhouse. When he arrived, he told the first story of the wildred-chestnut, beautiful, swift as an eagle. He talked with the hunger andthe fire which comes on the faces of those who love horses. It was nothis voice but his manner which convinced his hearers, and before heended every eye in the bunkhouse was lighted. That moment was the beginning of the end for Alcatraz. From the momentmen saw him and desired him the days of his freedom were limited; butgreat should be the battle before he was subdued! CHAPTER VII THE PROMISED LAND There was no thought of submission in Alcatraz at this moment, thoughnever for an instant did he under-rate the power of man. To Alcatraz theMexican was the type, and Cordova had seemed to unite in himself manypowers--strength like a herd of bulls, endurance greater than thecontemptible patience of the burro, speed like the lightning which winksin the sky one instant and shatters the cottonwood tree the next. Suchas he were men, creatures who conquer for the sake of conquest and whotorment for the love of pain. His fear equalled his hatred, and hishatred made him shake with fever. The horseman had vanished but it was not well to trust to mere distance. Had he not heard, more than once, the gun speaking from the hand ofCordova, and presently the wounded hawk fluttered out of the sky anddropped at the feet of the man? So Alcatraz kept on running. Besides, herejoiced in the gallop. He was like a boy who leaves his strengthuntested for several years and when the crisis comes finds himself aman. So the red-chestnut marvelled at the new wells of strength which hewas draining as he ran. That power which the Mexican had kept at lowtide with his systematic brutality was now developed to the full, verynear; and to Alcatraz it seemed exhaustless. He did not stop to lookabout until two miles of climbing up the steep sides of the Eagles hadwinded him. He had risen above the foothills and the more laborious slopes of theEagles lifted at angles sheer and more sheer towards the top. Butdecidedly he must cross the mountains. On the other side perhaps, therewould be no men. There could be no better time. Already the hollowgorges were beginning to brim with blue-grey shadows and he would betaking the worst of the climb in the cool of the evening. So Alcatrazgave himself to the climb. It was bitter work. Had he dropped a few miles south across thefoothills he would have found the road to the Jordan ranch climbing upthe Eagles with leisurely swinging curves, but the slopes just above himwere heart-breaking, and Alcatraz began to realize in an hour that amountainside from a distance is a far gentler thing than the same slopeunderfoot. It was the heart of twilight before he came to the middle ofhis climb and stepped onto a nearly level shoulder some acres incompass. Here he stood for a moment while the muscles, cramped fromclimbing, loosened again, and he looked down at the work he had alreadyaccomplished. It was a dizzy fall to the lowlands. The big foothillswere mere dimples on the earth and limitless plain moved east towardsdarkness. The stallion breathed deep of the pure mountain air, contented. All his old life lay low beneath him in a thicker air and ina deeper night. He had climbed out of it to a lonely height, perhaps, but a free one. The wind, coming off the mountain top, curled his tailalong his flank. He turned and put his head into it, already refreshedfor more climbing. There was a strange scent in that wind, a rank, keenodor that would have stopped him instantly had he been wiser in the lifeof the wilderness. As it was, he trotted on through a skirting ofshrubbery and on the verge of a clearing was stopped by a snarl thatrolled out of the ground at his feet. Then he saw a dead deer on theground and over it a great tawny creature. One paw lay on the flank ofits prey; the bloody muzzle was just above. There is no greater coward than the puma. Ordinarily she would havehesitated before attacking the grown horse, but the surprise made herdesperate. She sprang even as Alcatraz whirled for flight, and inwhirling he saw that there was no escape from the leap of this monsterwith the yawning teeth. He kicked high and hard, eleven hundred poundsof seasoned muscle concentrated in the drive. The blow would havesmashed in the side of a bull. One hoof glanced off, but the otherstruck fair and full between the eyes of the mountain-lion. The greatcat spun backwards, screeching, but Alcatraz saw no more than the fall. He fled up the mountain with fear of death lightening his strides, regardless of footing, crashing through underbrush, and came to the endof his hysterical flight at the crest of the slope. There he paused, shaking and weak, but the mountain top was bare ofcovert, and scanning it eagerly through the treacherous moonlight he sawthere was no immediate danger. Down the Western slopes he saw afairyland for horses. Far beyond rose a second range nearly as lofty asthe peak on which he stood, but in between tumbled rolling ground, adreamy panorama in the moonshine. One feature was clear, and that was abroad looping of silver among the hills, a river with slendertributaries dodging swiftly down to it from either side. Alcatraz lookedwith a swelling heart, thinking of the white-hot deserts which he hadknown all his life. The wind which lifted his mane and cooled his hotbody carried up, also, the delicious fragrance of the evergreens and itseemed to Alcatraz that he had come in view of a promised land. Surelyhe had dreamed of it on many a day in burning, dusty corrals or inoven-like sheds. The descent was far less precipitous than the climb and far shorter tothe plateau. Just where the true mountains broke out into a pleasantmedley of foothills, the stallion stopped to rest. He nibbled a fewmouthfuls of grass growing lush and rank on the edge of a watercourse, waded to the knees in a still pool and blotted out the star-images withthe disturbance of his drinking, and then went back onto a hilltop tosleep. It was full day before he rose and started on again, and to keep hisstrength for the next stage of the journey, he ate busily first on thelee side of a hill where the grass was thickest and tenderest. Betweenmouthfuls he raised his head to gaze down on his new-found land. It wasa day of clouds, thin sheetings and dense cumulus masses sweeping on thewest wind and breaking against the mountains. Alcatraz could not see thecrests over which he had climbed the night before, so thick were thosebreaking ranks of clouds, but the plateau beneath him was dotted withyellow sunshine and in the day it filled to the full the promise of themoonlit night. He saw wide stretches of meadow; he saw hills sharpsidedand smoothly rolling--places to climb with labor and places to gallop atease. He saw streams that promised drink at will; he saw clumps andgroves of trees for shelter from sun or storm. All that a horse couldwill was here, beyond imaginings. Alcatraz lifted his beautiful head andneighed across the lowlands. There was no answer. His kingdom silently awaited his coming so hestruck out at a sharp pace. The run of the day before, in place ofstiffening him, had put him in racing trim and he went like the wind. Hewas in playful mood. He danced and shied as each cloud-shadow struckhim, a dim figure in the shade but shining red-chestnut in the sunpatches. On every hand he saw dozens of places where he would havestopped willingly had not more distant beauties lured him on. There werehills whose tops would serve him as watch towers in time of need. Therewere meadows of soft soil where the grass grew long and rank and otherswhere it was a sweeter and finer growth; but both had their places inhis diet and must be remembered so Alcatraz tried to file them away inhis mind. But who could remember single jewels in a great treasure? Hewas like a child chasing butterflies and continually lured from thepursuit of one to that of another still brighter. So he came in hiskingly progress to the first blot on the landscape, the first bar, thefirst hindrance. Sinuous and swift curving as a snake it twisted over hilltops and dippedacross hollows, three streaks of silver light one above the other, andendless. The ears of Alcatraz flattened. He knew barb-wire fences of oldand he knew they meant man and domination of man. The scars of whip andspur stung him afresh. The old sullen hatred rose in him. Those threeelusive lines of light were stronger than he, he knew, just as the frailbody of a man contained a mysterious strength far greater than his. Heturned his head across the wind and galloped beside the new-strungfence for ten breathless minutes. Then he paused, panting. Still runningendless before him and behind was the fence and now he saw a checking ofsimilar fences across the meadows to his right. More than that, he saw agroup of fat cattle browzing, and just beyond were horses in a pasture. Alcatraz slipped backwards and sideways till he was out of sight andthen galloped over the hill until he came to a grove of trees at thetop. Here he paused to continue his examination from shelter. The fencewas the work of man, the cattle and horses were the possessions of man, and far off to the left, out of a grove of trees, rose the smoke whichspoke of the presence of man himself. The chestnut shivered as though hewere shaking cold water off his hide, and then unreasoning fury grippedhim. For here was his paradise, his Promised Land, pre-empted by theGreat Enemy! He stayed for a long moment gazing, and then turned reluctantly and fledlike one pursued back by the way he had come. He got beyond the fence inthe course of half an hour, but still he kept on. He began to feel thatas long as he galloped on land which was pleasant to him it would bepleasant to man also. So he kept steadily on his way, leaping thebrooks. Into the river he cast himself and swam to the farther shore. There was an instant change beyond that bank. The valley opened like afan. The handle of it was the green, well-watered plateau into which hehad first descended, but now it spread in raw colored desert, cut up byragged hills here and there, and extending on either side to mountainspurple-blue with distance. With the water dripping from his belly, Alcatraz twinked a farewellglance to the green country behind him and set his face towards thedesert. It was not so hard to leave the pleasant meadows. Now that heknew they were man-owned there was a taint in their beauty, and here onthe sands of the desert with only dusty bunch-grass to eat and muddywaterholes to drink from, he was at least free from the horror of theenemy. He kept on fairly steadily, nibbling in the bunch-grass as hewent, now trotting a little, now cantering lightly across a stretchbarren of forage. So he came, just after noonday, down-wind from thescent of horses. His own kind, yet he was worried, for he connected horses inevitablywith the thought of man. Nevertheless, he decided to explore, and comingwarily over a rise of ground he saw, in the hollow beyond, a whole troopof horses without a man in sight. He was too wise to jump to conclusionsbut slipped back from his watch-post and ran in a long semi-circle aboutthe herd, but having made out that there was no cowpuncher nearby, hecame back to his original place of vantage and resumed his observations. A beautiful black stallion wandered up-wind from the rest and another, younger horse, was on the other side of the herd. Between was a raggedlyassembled group of mares old and young, with leggy yearlings, deer-footed colts, and more than one time-worn stallion. It was a motleyassembly. The colors ranged from piebald to grey and there was a greatdiversity in stature. Presently the black stallion neighed softly, whereat the rest of the herd bunched closely together, the mares withthe foals on the side, and all heads turning towards the black who nowgalloped to a hilltop, surveyed the horizon and presently dropped hishead to graze again. This was a signal to the others. They spread out again carelessly, butAlcatraz was beginning to put two and two together in his thoughts. Thetwo stallions were obviously guards, but what should they be guardingagainst in the broad light of day except that terrible destroyer whohunts as well at noon as at midnight--man! Inspiration came to Alcatraz. The difference of color and stature, the unkempt manes and tails, thewild eyes, were all telling a single story, now. These were not servantsto man, and since they were not his servants they must be enemies, forthat was the law of the world. The great enemy dominated, and where hecould not dominate he killed. And the herd feared the same power whichAlcatraz feared; instantly they became to him brothers and sisters, andhe stepped boldly into view. The result was startling. From the hilltop the black stallion whinniedshrill and short and in a twinkling the whole group was in motionscurrying north. Alcatraz looked in wonder and saw the black fall inbehind the rest and range across the rear biting the flanks of olderhorses who found it difficult to keep the hot pace. With thisaccomplished and when the herd was stolidly compacted before hisdriving, the black skirted around the whole group and with a magnificentspurt of running placed himself in the lead. He kept his place easily, a strong galloping grey mare at his hip, and from time to time tossedhis head to the side to take stock of his followers. And so they dippedout of sight beyond the next swell of ground. Alcatraz recovered from his amazement to start in pursuit. This was amystery worth solving. Moreover, the moment he made sure that these werenot man-owned creatures they had become inexplicably dear to him and asthey disappeared his heart grew heavy. His running gait carried himquickly in view. They had slackened in their flight a little but as hehove in sight again they took the alarm once more, the foals firstrushing to the front and then the whole herd with flying manes and tailsblown straight out. It was a goodly sight to Alcatraz. Moreover, his heart leaped strangely, as it always did when he saw horses in full gallop. Perhaps they werestriving to test his speed of foot before they admitted him to theircompany. In that case the answer was soon given. He sent his call afterthem, bidding them watch a real horse run, then overtook them in onedizzy burst of sprinting. His rush carried him not only up to them butamong them. Two or three youngsters swerved aside with frightenedsnorts, but as he came up behind a laboring mare she paused in herflight to let drive with both heels. Alcatraz barely escaped the dangerwith a sidestep light as a dancer's and shortened his gallop. He could not punish the mare for her impudence; besides, he needed timeto rearrange his thoughts. Why should they flee from a companion whointended no harm? It was a great puzzle. In the meantime, keeping easilyat the heels of the wild horses, he noted that they were holding theirpace better than any cowponies he had ever seen running. From the oldestmare to the youngest foal they seemed to have one speed afoot. A neigh from the black leader made the herd scatter on every side likefire in stubble. Alcatraz halted to catch the meaning of this newmaneuver and saw the black approaching at a high-stepping trot as onedetermined to explore a danger but ready to instantly flee if it seemeda serious threat. His gaze was fixed not on Alcatraz but on the farhorizon where the hills became a blue mist rolling softly against thesky. He seemed to make up his mind, presently, that nothing would followthe chestnut out of the distance and he began to move about Alcatraz ina rapid gallop, constantly narrowing his circle. Alcatraz turned constantly to meet him, whinnying a friendly greeting, but the black paid not the slightest heed to these overtures. At lengthhe came to a quivering stand twenty yards away, head up, ears back, avery statue of an angry and proud horse. Obviously it was a challenge, but Alcatraz was too happy in his new-found brothers to think of battle. He ducked his head a little and pawed the ground lightly, a horse'sage-old manner of expressing amicable intentions. But there was nothingamicable in the black leader. He reared a little and came down lightlyon his forefeet, his weight gathered on his haunches as though he werepreparing to charge, and at this unmistakable evidence of ill-will, Alcatraz snorted and grew alert. If it came to fighting he was more than at home. He was a master. Morethan one corral gate he had cunningly worked ajar, and more than oneflimsy barn wall he had broken down with his leaning shoulder, and morethan one fence he had leaped to get at the horses beyond. With angerrising in him he took stock of the opponent. The black lacked a goodinch of his own height but in substance more than made up for thedeficiency. He was a stalwart eight-year old, muscled like a Hercules, with plenty of bone to stand his weight; and his eyes, glitteringthrough the tangle of forelock, gave him an air of savage cunning. Decidedly here was a foeman worthy of his steel, thought Alcatraz. Helooked about him. There stood the mares and the horses ranged in a loosesemi-circle, waiting and watching; only the colts, ignorant of what wasto come, had begun to frolic together or bother their mothers with asavage pretense of battle. Alcatraz saw one solid old bay topple heroffspring with a side-swing of her head. She wanted an unobstructed viewof the fight. His interest in this by-play nearly proved his undoing for while hishead was turned he heard a rushing of hoofs and barely had time to throwhimself to one side as the black flashed by him. Alcatraz turned andreared to beat the insolent stranger into the earth but he found thatthe leader was truly different from the sluggish horses of men. Ahundred wild battles had taught the black every trick of tooth and heel;and in the thick of the fight he carried his weight with the agility ofa cat: Alcatraz had not yet swung himself fairly back on his hauncheswhen the black was upon him, the dust flying up behind from thequickness of his turn. Straight at the throat of the chestnut he divedand his teeth closed on the throat of Alcatraz just where the necknarrows beneath the jaw. His superior height enabled Alcatraz to rearand fling himself clear, but his throat was bleeding when he landed onall fours dancing with rage and the sting of his wounds. Yet herefrained from rushing; he had been in too many a fight to chargeblindly. The black, however, had tasted victory, and came again with a snort ofeagerness. It was the thing for which Alcatraz had been waiting and heplayed a trick which he had learned long before from a cunning oldgelding who, on a day, had given him a bitter fight. He pitched back, asthough he were about to rear to meet the charge, but when his fore-feetwere barely clear of the ground he rocked down again, whirled, andlashed out with his heels. Had they landed fairly the battle would have ended in that instant, butthe black was cat-footed indeed, and he swerved in time to save hishead. Even so one flashing heel had caught his shoulder and ripped itopen like a knife. And they both sprang away, ready for the next clash. The grey mare who had run so gallantly at the hip of the leader nowapproached and stood close by with pricking ears. Alcatraz bared histeeth as he glanced aside at her. No doubt if he were knocked sprawlingshe would rush in to help her lord and master finish the enemy. Thatgave Alcatraz a second problem--to fight the stallion without turninghis back on the treacherous mare. Before he could plan his next move the black was at him again. This timethey reared together, met with a clash of teeth and rapid beat of hoofs, and parted on equal terms. Alcatraz eyed his enemy with a fiercerespect. His head was dull and ringing with the blows; his shoulder hadbeen slightly cut by a glancing forehoof. Decidedly he could not meetthe brawn of this hardened old warrior on such terms. He had used up onetrick, he must find another, and still another; and when the blackrushed again, Alcatraz slipped away from the contact and raced off athis matchless gallop. The other pursued a short distance and stopped, sounding his defiance and his triumph. As well follow the wind as thechestnut stranger. Besides, the blood was pouring from the gash in hisshoulder and that foreleg was growing weak; it was well that the battlehad ended at this point. But it was not ended! Flight was not in the mind of Alcatraz as he sweptaway. He ran in dodging circles about the enemy, swerving in and thenveering sharply out as the black reared to meet the expected charge. Whatever else was accomplished, he had gained the initiative and thatplus his lightness of foot might bring matters to a decisive issue inhis favor. Twice he made his rush; twice the black turned and met himwith that shower of crushing blows with the fore hoofs. But the thirdtime a feint at one side and a charge at the other took the leaderunawares. Fair and true the shoulder of Alcatraz struck him on the sideand the impact flung the black heavily to the earth. The shock hadstaggered even Alcatraz but he was at the other like a savage terrier. Thrice he stamped across that struggling body until the black laymotionless with his coat crimson from twenty slashes. Then Alcatraz drewaway and neighed his triumph, and in his exultation he noted that theherd drew close together at his call. Why, he could not imagine, and he had no time to ponder on it, for theblack was now struggling to his feet. But there was no fight left inhim. He stood dazed, with fallen head, and to the challenge of thechestnut he replied by not so much as the pricking of his flagging ears. The grey mare went to him, touched noses with her overlord, and thenbacked away, shaking her head. Presently she trotted past Alcatraz, flung up her heels within an inch of his head, and then galloped ontowards the herd looking back at the conqueror. Oh vanity of the weakersex; oh frailty! She had seen her master crushed and within the minuteshe was flirting with the conqueror. The herd started off as the grey joined them and Alcatraz followed; theblack leader remaining unmoving and the blood dripped steadily down hislegs. CHAPTER VIII MURDER After they had seen him in battle it seemed to Alcatraz that theremight be some reason for the flight of the herd and yet now theirrunning was only half-hearted; he could have raced in circles aroundthem. There was one change in their arrangement. The grey mare wassecond, as before, but before her in place of the black ran the baystallion who had stood down--wind from the rest when Alcatraz first sawthem. He, perhaps, might challenge the stranger as the former leader haddone. At any rate he should have the opportunity, for the fighting bloodof Alcatraz was up and he would battle with every horse in the herduntil he was accepted among them as an equal. He had a peculiar desire, also, to be up there beside the grey mare. Their meeting had been, indeed, only in the passing, and yet there was about her--how should onesay?--a certain something. The moment he had made up his mind, Alcatraz flung himself about theherd and advanced with high head and bounding gallop on the new leader;but the latter had seen his former master fall and apparently had noappetite for battle. He shortened his pace to a hand gallop, then to amincing trot, and finally lowered his head and moved unobtrusively tothe side with an absorbed interest in the first knot of bunch-grass thatcame his way. To force battle on such a foe was beneath the dignity ofAlcatraz, but the whole herd had stopped, every bright eye watchinghim; perhaps there might be others more ambitious than the bay. He putup his head like the king of horses that he was and stepped proudlyforward. Behold, they divided and left a clear path before him; even themare who had kicked at him when he first came up now shook her head andmoved aside. He reached the rear of the herd unopposed and turned tofind that every head was still turned towards him with a brightattention that was certainly not altogether fear. This was very strange, and while he thought it over Alcatraz dropped hishead and nibbled the nearest cluster of grass. At that, as at a signal, every head in the herd went down; it scattered carelessly here andthere. Alcatraz watched them, bewildered. This was what he had notedwhen the black leader was among them; then he understood and was filledwith warm content. Truly they had accepted him not only as a member butas a master! To prove it, he trotted to the nearest hilltop and neighedas he had heard the black neigh. At once they bunched, looking warilytowards him. He lowered his head to nibble the grass and again theyscattered to eat. It was true. It was true beyond shadow of doubt thatfrom this moment he was a king with obedient subjects until, perhaps, some younger, mightier stallion challenged and beat him down. Happilyfor Alcatraz such forethought was beyond his reach of mind and now heonly knew the happiness of power. He noticed a long-bodied colt, incredibly dainty of foot, wanderingnervously near him with pricking ears and sniffing nose. Alcatrazextended his lordly head and sniffed the velvet muzzle, whereat theyoungster snorted and darted away shaking his head and kicking up hisheels as though he had just bearded the lion and was delighted at thesuccess of his impertinence. The mother had come anxiously close duringthis adventure but now she regarded Alcatraz with a friendly glance andwent about her serious business of eating for two. The grey mare was drifting near, likewise, as though by inadvertence, nibbling the headed grasstops as she came; but Alcatraz shrewdlyguessed that her approach was not altogether unplanned. He was notdispleased. His quiet happiness grew as the cloud--shadows rushed acrosshim and the sun warmed him. It was a pleasant world--a pleasant, pleasant world! His people wandered in the hollow. They looked to himfor warning of danger. They looked at him for guidance in a crisis andhe accepted the burden cheerfully. Fear, it seemed, had made him one with them. All his life he had dreadedonly one thing--man; but these creatures of the wild had many a fear ofthe lobo, the mountain-lion, the drought, the high flying buzzard whowould claim them, dying, and added above all this, man. Not thatAlcatraz knew these things definitely. He could only feel that these, his people, were strong only in their speed and in their timidity, andhe felt power to rule and protect them. For he who had fought man, andwon, had surely nothing to dread from beasts. The great moment of hislife had come to him not in the crushing of the Mexican or the bafflingof the mountain lion or the defeat of the black leader but in the firstgentle kindness that had ever softened his stern spirit. He was used tobattle; but these, his people, accepted him. He was used to suspicionand trickery but these trusted him blindly. He was used to hate, butbecause they had put themselves into his power he began to love them. Hefelt a blood-tie between him and the weakest colt within the range ofhis eye. The herd drifted slowly down--wind until late afternoon, eating theirway rather than travelling, but when the heat began to wane and theslant sunlight took on a yellow tone they began to show signs ofunrest, milling in a compact group with the foals frolicking on theoutskirts of the circle. The mares were particularly disturbed, itseemed to Alcatraz, especially the mothers; and since all heads wereturned repeatedly towards him he became anxious. Something was expectedof him. What was it? In case they had scented a danger unknown to him, he cast a wide circlearound them at a sharp gallop, but nothing met his nostril, his eye, orhis ear except the dust with its keen taint of alkali, and the barehills, and the vague horizon sounds. Alcatraz came back to hiscompanions at a halting trot which denoted his uneasy alertness. Theywere milling more closely than ever. The brood mares had passed to asullen nervousness and were kicking savagely at everything that camenear. Decidedly something was wrong. The wise-headed grey mare loped outto meet him and threw a course of circles around him as he came slowlyforward. Plainly she expected him to do something, but what this mightbe Alcatraz could not tell. Besides, a growing thirst was making himirritable and the insistence of the grey mare made him wish to fastenhis teeth over the back of her neck and shake her into better behavior. By her antics she had worked him around to the head of the herd and shehad no sooner reached this point than she threw up her head with ashrill neigh and started off at a gallop. The entire herd rushed afterher and Alcatraz, in a bound, ranged along side the grey and a neck inthe lead. While he ran he whinnied a soft question to which she repliedwith a toss of her head as though impatient at such ignorance. Inreality she was guiding the herd. She knew it and Alcatraz understoodher knowledge, but he made a show of maintaining the guidance, keeping asharp outlook and turning the moment she showed signs of veering in anew direction. Sometimes, of course, he misread her intentions andswerved across her head and on each of these occasions she reached outand nipped him shrewdly. Alcatraz was too taken up in his wonder at theactions of the herd to resent this insolence. For half an hour they keptup the steady pace and then Alcatraz literally ran into the reason. It was a beautiful little lake, bedded in hard gravel and maintained bya dribble of water from a brook on the north shore. Alcatraz snorted indisgust at his folly. What had disturbed them was exactly what haddisturbed him--thirst. He controlled his own desire for water, however, and followed an instinct that made him draw back and wait until all therest--the oldest stallion and the youngest colt--had waded in andplunged their noses deep in the water. Then he went to the lake edge alittle apart from the rest and drank with his reflection glisteningbeneath him. It was a time of utter peace for the chestnut. While he drank he watchedthe line of images broken by the small waves in the lake and listened tothe foals which had only tasted the water and now were splashing itabout with their upper lips. For his own part he did not drink too much, since much water in the belly makes a leaden burden and Alcatraz feltthat, as leader, he must always be ready for running. A scrawny colt, escaping from the heels of a yearling floundered against him. Alcatrazgave way to the little fellow and warned the yearling back with a savagebaring of his teeth and a shake of his head. The foal, with head cockedupon one side, regarded its protector with impish curiosity and was inthe act of nibbling at the flowing mane of the stallion when Alcatrazheard a sharp humming as of a wasp; then the sound of a blow, and thefoal leaped straight into the air with head flung back. Before it hitwater a report as of a hammer falling on anvil burst across the levelpond, and then the colt struck heavily on its side, dead. That bullet had been aimed for the tall leader and only the lifting ofthe foal's head had saved Alcatraz. He recognized the report of a rifleand whirled from the water-edge, signalling his company with a shortneigh of fear; the arch enemy was upon them! A volley poured in. Alcatraz, as he gained the shore, saw an old stallion double up with ascream of pain and no sound is so terrible as the shriek of a torturedhorse. No sound is so terrible even to horses. It threw the leader intoan hysteria of panic. Others of the herd were falling or staggering inthe lake; the remnant rushed up the slope and over the sheltering crestof the hill beyond. Every nerve in the body of Alcatraz urged him to leap away with arrowyspeed, passing even the grey mare--she who now shot off across the hillsfar in the van--but behind him raced weaker and slower horses, the olderstallions and the mares with their foals. Instinct proved greater thanfear. He swept around the rear of his diminished company to round up thelaggards, but they were already laboring to the full of their power asfive horsemen streamed across the crest with their rifles carried at theready. They were a hardy crew, these cowpunchers of the Jordan ranch, but to the sternest of them this was ugly work. To draw a bead on ahorse was like gathering the life of a man into the sight of the rifle, yet they knew that a band of wildrunning mustangs is a perpetual menace. Already the black leader had recruited his herd with more than one strayfrom the Jordan outfit; and it was for the black, first of all, thatthey looked. There was no sign of him, and in his place ranged a picturehorse--a beautiful red--chestnut with a gallop that made one's headswim. Lew Hervey, who had kept his men in cunning ambush near the lake, had chosen the new leader for a target but shot the colt instead. And itwas Lew Hervey, again, who swung over the crest of the hill and got thenext chance at Alcatraz. The foreman of the Jordan ranch pitched his rifle to his shoulder justas the leader, sweeping back to round up the rearmost of his company, presented a broadside target. It was a sure hit. In the certainty of hisskill Lew Hervey allowed his hand to swing and followed for a strike ortwo the rhythm of that racing body. The sunshine of the late afternoonflashed on the flanks and on the frightened eyes of the stallion; maneand tail fluttered straight out with his speed; and then he fired, andjerked up his gun to await the crashing fall of the horse. But Alcatrazdid not drop. That moment of lingering on the part of the foreman savedhim, for through the sights of his rifle Hervey had seen such grace andbeauty in horseflesh that his nerve was unsteadied. Alcatraz knew thestinging hum of a bullet past his head; and the foreman knew a miracle. He could not believe his failure. "Leave the chestnut to me!" he shouted as his men drove their poniesover the hill, and pulling his own horse to a stand he jerked the riflebutt hard against his shoulder and fired again; the only result was aflirt of the tail of the chestnut as he darted about a hillside anddisappeared. Hervey made no attempt to follow but sat his saddle agapeand staring, thinking ghostly thoughts. This was the beginning of the legend that Alcatraz bore a charmed life. For the mountains were rich with Indian folklore which had drifted farfrom its source and had come by hook and crook into the lives of theminers and cowpunchers. Into such a background many a wild tale fittedand the tale of Alcatraz was to be one of the wildest. At any rate, the stallion owed his life on this day to the superstitionof Lew Hervey which kept him anchored on his horse until the target wasgone. A dozen times his men could have dropped the chestnut whopersisted with a frantic courage in running behind the rearmost of hiscompanions, urging them to greater efforts, but since Hervey hadselected this as his own prize his men dared not shoot. It was a strange and beautiful thing to see that king of horses--sweepback around the slowest of his mustangs, shake his head at the barkingguns, and then circle forward again as though he would show the laggardwhat running should be. The cowpunchers could have shot him as he veeredback; they could have salted him with lead as he flashed broadside, butthe orders of their chief restrained them. Lew Hervey's lightest wordhad a weight with them. However, before and behind the leader of the herd their guns did deadlywork. Brood mares, stallions young and old, even the foals were dropped. It was horrible work to the hardest of them but this horseflesh wasuseless. Too many times they had seen mustangs taken and ridden and whenthey were not hopeless outlaws they became broken-spirited and useless, as though their strength lay in their freedom. With that gone they werevalueless even as slaves of men. Before the slaughter ended, young or old there was not a horse left inthe band of Alcatraz save the grey mare far ahead. She was alreadybeyond range, and as the last of the fleeing horses pitched heavilyforward and lay still with oddly sprawling limbs, old Bud Seymour drewrein and shoved his rifle back into the long holster. "Now, look!" he called, as his companions pulled up beside him. "Thatgrey is fast as a streak--but look! look!" For the red-chestnut was bounding away in pursuit of his last companionwith a winged gallop. It seemed that the wind caught him up and buoyedhim from stride to stride, and the cowpunchers with hungry, burning eyeswatched without a word until the grey and the chestnut blurred on thehorizon and dipped out of view together. The spell was broken in thesame instant by a stream of profanity floating up from the rear. It wasLew Hervey approaching and swearing his mightiest. "But I dunno, " said Bud Seymour softly. "I feel kind of glad that Lewmissed. " He glanced sharply at his companions for fear they might laugh at thischildish weakness, but there was no laughter and by their starved eyeshe knew that every one of them was riding over the horizon inimagination, on the back of the chestnut. CHAPTER IX THE STAMPEDE The grey mare made no effort to draw away when Alcatraz sprinted upbeside her. She gave him not so much as a toss of the head or a swish ofthe tail but kept her gaze on the far Western mountains for she wasstill sick with the scent of blood; and she maintained a purposeful, steady, lope. It was far other with the stallion. He kept at her sidewith his gliding canter but he was not thinking of the peace and theshelter from man which they might find in the blue valleys of yondermountains. His mind was back at the slaughter of Mingo Lake hearing thecrackle of the rifles and seeing his comrades fall and die. It wasnothing that he had known the band only since morning. They were hiskind, they were his people, they had accepted his rule; and now he wasemptyhearted, a king without a people. The grey mare, the fleetest andthe wisest of them all, remained; but she was only a reminder of hisvanished glory. Remembering how Cordova had been served, might he not find a way ofharming those men even as they had harmed him? He slackened to a trotand finally halted. His companion kept on until he neighed. Then shecame obediently enough but swinging her head up and down to indicate herintense disapproval of this halt. When Alcatraz actually started backtowards the place where the cowpunchers had dropped the pursuit, shethrew herself across his way, striving to turn him with bared teeth andflirting heels. He merely kept a weaving course to avoid her, his head high and his earsback, which was a manner the mare had never seen in him before; shecould only tell that she was less than nothing to him. Once she stroveto draw back by running a little distance west and then turning andcalling him but her whinny made him not so much as shake his head. Atlength she surrendered and sullenly took up his trail. He roved swiftly across the hollows; he sneaked up to every commandingrise as though he feared the guns of men might be just beyond the crestand these tactics continued until they came in view of the small row ofblack figures riding against the sunset. The grey halted at once, rearing and snorting, for the sight brought again that hateful smell ofblood but her leader moved quietly after the cowpunchers; he was takingthe man-trail! It was arduous work, frisking from one point of vantage to another, never knowing when the Great Enemy might turn. They could make deathspeak from the distance of half a mile; under shelter of the hills theymight even double back to close range; they might be luring him by thepretense that he was unseen. In such maneuvers the mare was a dangerous encumbrance, for though shehad fallen into the spirit of the thing at once and never uttered eventhe faintest whinny yet it would be far easier for the men to hear andsee two than to detect one. Alcatraz strove to drive her back, sometimes whirling with teeth bared and rushing at her, sometimeshalfrearing as though to strike. But on such occasions she merelystopped and regarded him with eyes of mild amazement. She knew perfectlythat he would never touched her with tooth or hoof; she also knew thatthis was dangerous folly--this badgering of terrible man, but sinceAlcatraz was not wise enough to follow her she must even follow him inspite of his folly. She stayed half a dozen lengths in the rear, trembling with excitement, for now they passed the verge of the desert and now they entered aman-made road bordered with shining fences of men; what retreat was thereif men closed in from the front and the rear? Yet she went on with daintyand uneasy steps. As for Alcatraz, he had pressed up boldly, close tothe riders, for now the twilight grew thick and it was hard to make outthe glimmering forms before him. Twice he paused; twice he went on. There was no real purpose in this following. He dared not come tooclose, and yet he hoped to harm them. He continued, wrung by a confusionof dreads and desires. He was beset with signs of man even in the darkness. Over thewell-watered fields of the ranch he heard the lowing of cattle and nowand again the chorus of the sheep in a nearby pasture land was reawakenedwhen the bell of the leader tinkled. They were all hateful sounds toAlcatraz, and every step he made seemed to consign him the moredefinitely to the power of the Great Enemy. In spite of his boldness he lost sight of the riders among the deepershadows of the ranch buildings, and he stopped again to consider. Thegrey mare came beside him and begged him back with a call softer than awhisper, but he merely raised his head the higher and stared at the hugeoutlines of the sheds and barns. To Alcatraz every one of them was afortress filled with danger that might leap up at him. Yet he must notturn back after having come all this distance, surely. He went on. Theroad opened into an unfenced semicircle with corrals on every side andfrom one of these enclosures a horse neighed, and there was a briefsound of many trampling feet. Some of his own kind were playing there;Alcatraz forgot his hatred a little, forgot man. He went straight to thecorral and put his head over the top bar. Snorting softly, curious and frightened at once, six beautiful animalscame towards him. He was one of their kind, so they came close; thescent of the wilderness was already on him, and they shrank away. Surelysome sinister genius had directed Alcatraz to the one most valuablepoint of attack on all the ranch, for these were the six brood mares forwhose purchase Marianne Jordan had cleaned out her bank account. Thestallion did not know, of course. He did not even recognize them as hiscompetitors in the race. All he felt was that there was somethingcharmingly remembered, something half familiar about them. The boldestcame near and he touched noses, whereat she whirled with a little squealand lashed out at him; but her heels were carefully aimed wide of themark and Alcatraz merely tossed his nose; plainly she was a flirt. Hepressed a little closer to the fence and urged friendliness with aconversational whinny. They were not averse, coming towards him witheyes that glimmered in the darkness, retreating often and coming onagain, until he had touched noses with them all. It was extremelypleasant to Alcatraz and hardly less so because the grey mare came andshouldered him rudely. Then a voice spoke from the barn which opened off the corral: "What'sall that damned nonsense with the mares yonder?" Alcatraz crouched for flight. Another voice answered: "They'll millaround every night for a while till they get used to the new place. That's the way with them crazy hot-bloods. No hoss-sense. " The voices departed. The shrinking of the stallion had made the mareswince away in turn, but they came back now and resumed the conversationwhere it had been broken off. He was careful to introduce himself toeach one. He was greatly tempted to jump the fence and talk to them atcloser hand but he knew that it was great folly to risk his neck in agroup of mares before he had made out whether or not they were amiable. If they were cross-tempered he might be kicked to death before he couldescape. The investigations brought entirely favorable returns. They were veryyoung, these Coles horses, and hence their curiosity was far strongerthan their timidity. Before long every one of the six necks wasstretched across the top-rail and when Alcatraz turned his back on themthey whinnied uneasily to call him back. If that were the case, why did they not jump? He went back and showedthem how simple it was if they really wanted to escape and come out withhim into the wind and under the free stars of the mountains. Such afence was nothing to that powerful jumper. He walked calmly to it, reared, and sailed over. That sent the mares scampering wildly, here andthere about the corral, and though they came back again after a time, they seemed to have learned nothing. When he jumped out again not one ofthem followed. Alcatraz stood off and eyed them in disgust. When he was a yearling, hefelt, he had known more than those big, stupid, beautiful creatures. Butplainly they wanted to get out with him. A wild horse is to the tamewhat the adventurous traveller is to the quiet man who builds a home, and from the grey mare and Alcatraz the six were learning many things. The scent of the open desert was on them, the sweat of hard running haddried on their hides, their heads were recklessly proud; and this tallstallion jumped the fence as though there had never been men who madelaws which well-trained horses must not transgress. Plainly he wantedthem to come out. They were very willing to go for a romp but they knewnothing about jumping, as yet, and all they could do was to show theireagerness to be out for a run by milling up and down the fence. If that were the case, there were other ways of opening corrals andAlcatraz knew them all. He tried the fence with his shoulder, leaningall his weight. More than once he had smashed time-rotted fences inthis manner, but he found that these posts were new and well tamped andthe boards were strongly nailed. He gave up that effort and went aboutlooking for a gate. Gates were not hard to find. A gate is that part ofa fence under which many tracks and many scents go; it is also a sectionwhich swings a little and rattles annoyingly in a wind. Upon the topboard of that section there is sure to be thick scent of man where hishands have fallen. Alcatraz found the gate. Under the weight of hisshoulder it creaked but did not give. He took the top rail in his teeth, while the mares stood back, wondering, in a high-headed semi-circle andthe grey kept nudging at his flank, saying very plainly: "Enough of thisnonsense. These gangling creatures, all legs and foolishness, are notof our kind, O my master. Let us be gone!" But Alcatraz heeded her not. He shook the gate back and forth. There are three kinds of fastenings for corral gates. One of themsqueaks and strains when it is pulled against. It is made of wire thatleaves a bitter taste of iron and rust in the mouth when it is touched. Wire is often very difficult but with teeth and prehensile upper lip itmay usually be worked up high, and finally it will fall over the top ofone of the posts with a rattle, and then the gate is open. Another kindof fastening rattles very much when the gate is shaken. This means thata loose board unites gates and post, running in a slot, and the only wayto handle such a gate is to take the loose board by the end and draw itback as far as possible. Then the gate always swings open of its ownaccord. There is a third kind of fastening. Manuel Cordova used it. Itconsists of a padlock and chain and where this is found one had betterleave the cursed thing untried for it will never be broken or removed. By the first shake of the gate and the corresponding rattle Alcatrazknew that the sliding board fastened it. He sniffed for it and found itvery easily, for always the latch-board is the one heaviest with theman-scent. He found it and worked it easily back. It caught on a nail. He tugged again, and as he tugged he quivered at the sound of a humanvoice and shrank as though the familiar whip of Cordova had cut him. "They're a little restless to-night, but aren't they dears, Shorty?"queried Marianne. "Kind of dear, " said the cowpuncher, "but maybe they're worth theprice. " For all his surliness, however, Shorty was her best ally. "Wait till you see Lady Mary begin to--but isn't that a horse beyond thecorral? A grey horse? I think it is, but it can't be. " "Why not?" "There isn't a grey horse on the ranch, and--oh!" For the gate of the corral creaked and then swung wide. They could notsee Alcatraz, for the bay mares stood between. "Don't move, don't speak!" whispered the girl. "It's that stupid Lucasman. I told Lew Hervey that he was too careless to take care of themares; and the first thing he's done is to leave the gate unlatched. I'll steal around and--" At the first sound of the voice the grey mare had drifted deeper intothe safety of the night; Alcatraz with a careful effort pulled open thegate; and the wind, aiding him, blew it wide, and now the soft whinny ofinvitation to the mares cut into the words of Marianne. She went aroundthe corral bending low, skulking in her run; for once the mares got outthe gate they might bolt like crazy things and come to harm in themurderous barbed-wire fences. Shorty was hurrying around on the otherside. Before she had taken half a dozen steps the neigh of the stallion, deafeningly loud, brought her to a halt with her hands clasped. She sawthe mares start under the alarm-call and rush for the gate; in a momenttheir hoofs were volleying down the road and the wail of Marianne wentshrilling: "Lew Hervey! Lew Hervey! They're gone!" Lew Hervey, in the bunkhouse, pushed away his cards and rose with acurse. "That's what comes of working for a woman, " he growled. "Nopeace. No rest. Work day and night. And if you ain't kept working you'rejust kept worried. It's hell!" He clumped to the door and cast it open. "Well?" he called into the darkness. "Every one out!" cried Marianne. "The mares have broken through the gateand stampeded!" CHAPTER X THE THIEF They came with a rush, at that. The mares the girl prized so highlywere, in the phrase of the cowpunchers, "high-headed fools" incapableof taking care of themselves. Running wild through the night, as likelyas not they would cut themselves to pieces on the first barbed wiredfence that blocked their way. With such a thought to urge them, Marianne's hired men caught their fastest mounts and saddled likelightning. There was a play of ropes and curses in the big corral, thescuffle of leather as saddle after saddle flopped into place, and then astream of dim riders darted through the corral gate. All of this, dazed by the misfortune, Marianne waited to see, but as thefirst of the pursuers darted out of sight she turned and ran to the boxstall where she kept her favorite pony, a nimble bay, inimitable on amountain trail and with plenty of foot on the flat. But never did hurrywaste so much precious time. The rush of her entrance in the darkstartled the nervous horse, and she had to soothe it for a minute ormore with a voice broken by excitement. After that, there was thesaddling to be done and her fingers stumbled and stuttered over thestraps so that when at last she led the bay out and swung up to thesaddle there was no sound or sight of the cowpunchers. But a young moonwas edging above the eastern mountains and by that light, now only anillusory haze, she hoped to gain sight of her men. Down the road she jockeyed the mare at the top of her pace with thebarbed wire running in three dim streaks of light on either side untilat last she struck the edge of the desert. The moon was now well abovethe horizon and the sands rolled in dun levels and black hollows overwhich she could peer for a considerable distance. Still there was nosight of her cowpunchers and this was a matter of small wonder, for aten minute start had sent them far away ahead of her. It would never do to push ahead with a blind energy. Already the bay wasbeginning to feel the run, and Marianne reluctantly drew down to thelong lope which is the favorite gait of the cowpony. At this pace sherocked on over mile after mile of desert through the moonhaze, but nevera token of the cowpunchers came on her. Twice she was on the verge ofturning back; twice she shook her head and urged the mare on again. Hourupon hour had slipped by her. Perhaps Hervey long since had given up thechase and turned towards the ranch. In the meantime, so much alike wasall the ground she covered that she seemed to be riding on a treadmillbut yet she could not return. The moon floated higher and higher as the night grew old and at lengththere was a dim lightening in the east which foretold dawn, but Mariannekept on. If she lost the mares it would be very much like losing herlast claim to the respect of her father. She could see him, in prospect, shrug his shoulders and roll another cigarette; above all she could seeLew Hervey smile with a suppressed wisdom. Both of them had, from thefirst, not only disapproved of the long price of the Coles horses, butof their long legs as well and their "damned high heads. " She had kepttelling herself fiercely that before long, when the mares were used tomountain ways and trails, she would ride one of them against the pick ofHervey's saddle ponies and at the end of a day he would know how muchblood counts in horse flesh! But if that chance were lost to her withthe mares themselves--she did not know where she could find the courageto go back and face the people at the ranch. Meantime the dawn grewslowly in the east but even when the mountains were huge and blackagainst flaming colors of the horizon sky, there was no breaking ofMarianne's gloom. Now and then, hopelessly, she raised her field glassesand swept a segment of the compass. But it was an automatic act, and herown forecast of failure obscured her vision, until at last, saddle-racked, trembling with weariness and grief, she stopped the mare. She was beaten! She had turned the bay towards the home-trail when somethingsubconsciously noted made her glance over her shoulder. And she sawthem! She needed no glass to bring them close. Those six small formsmoving over the distant hill could be nothing else, but if she doubted, all room for doubt was instantly removed, for in a moment a group ofhorsemen passed raggedly over the same crest. Hervey had found them, after all! Tears of relief and astonishment streamed down her face. Godbless Lew Hervey for this good work! Even the bay seemed to recover her spirit at the sight. She had pickedup her head before she felt the rein of the mistress and now sheanswered the first word by swinging into a brisk gallop that overhauledthe others swiftly. How the eyes of Marianne feasted on the reclaimedtruants! They danced along gaily, their slender bodies shining withsweat in the light of the early day, and Lady Mary mincing in the lead. A moment later, Marianne was among her cowpunchers. They were stolid as ever but she knew them well enough to understand bythe smiles they interchanged, that they were intensely pleased withtheir work of the night. Then she found herself crying to Hervey:"You're wonderful! Simply wonderful! How could you have followed them sofar and found them in the night?" At that, of course, Hervey became exceedingly matter of fact. He spokeas though the explanation were self-evident. "They busted away in a straight line, " he said, "so I knew by that thatsomething was leading 'em. Them bays ain't got sense enough of their ownto run so straight. " She noted the slur without anger. "Well, what wasleading 'em must of been what let 'em out of the corral; and what let'em out of the corral--" "Horse thieves!" cried Marianne, but Hervey observed her withoutinterest. "Hoss stealing ain't popular around these parts for some time, " he said. "Rustle a cow, now and then, but they don't aim no higher--not since westrung Josh Sinclair to the cottonwood. Nope, they was stole, but not bya man. " Here he made a tantalizing pause to roll a cigarette with Marianneexclaiming: "If not a man, then what on earth, Mr. Hervey?" He puffed out his answer with the first big cloud of smoke: "By anotherhoss! I guessed it right off. Remember what I said last night about thechestnut stallion and the bad luck he put on my gun?" She recalled vividly how Hervey, with the utmost solemnity, had avowedthat the leader of the mustangs put "bad luck" on his bullets and thatthey had not seen the last of the horse. She dared not trust herself toanswer Lew but glanced at the other men to see if they were not smilingat their foreman's absurd idea; they were as grave as images. "The chestnut wanted to get back at us for killing his herd off, " wenton Hervey. "So he sneaks up to the ranch and opens the corral gate andtakes the mares out. When I seen the mares were traveling so straight asall that I guessed what was up. Well, if the hoss was leading 'em, wherewould he take 'em? Straight to water. They was no use trying to run downthem long-legged gallopers. I took a swing off to the right and headedfor Warner's Tank. Sure enough, when we got there we seen the maresspread out and the chestnut and the grey mare hanging around. " He paused again and looked sternly at Slim, and Slim flushed to the eyesand glared straight ahead. "Slim, here, had been saying maybe it was my bum shooting and not thebad luck the stallion put on my rifle that made me miss. So I give himthe job of plugging the hoss. Well, he tried and missed three times. Offgoes the grey and the chestnut like a streak the first crack out of thebox, but we got ahead of the mares and turned 'em. And here we are. That's all they was to it. But, " he added gravely, "we ain't seen thelast of that chestnut hoss, Miss Jordan. " "I guess hardly another man on the range could have trailed them sowell, " she said gratefully. "But this wild horse--do you really thinkhe'll try to steal our mares again?" "Think? I know! And the next time we won't get 'em back so plumb easy. Right this morning, if they'd got started quick enough when he give 'emthe signal, we'd never of headed 'em. But they ain't turned wild yet;they ain't used to his ways. Give him another whirl with them andthey'll belong to him for good. Ain't no hosses around these parts canrun them mares down!" She heard the tribute with a smile of pleasure and ran satisfied glancesover the six beauties which cantered or trotted before them. "But even wild things are captured, " she argued. "Even deer are caught. If the chestnut _did_ run off the mares again why couldn't--" Hervey interrupted dryly: "Down Concord way, Jess Rankin was pestered bya black mustang. Jess was a pretty tolerable fair hunter, knowedmustangs and mustang-ways, and had a right fine string of saddle hosses. Well, it took Jess four years of hard work to get the black. Up byMexico Creek, Bud Wilkinson had a grey stallion that run amuck on hisrange. Took Bud nigh onto five years to get the grey. Well, I seen boththe grey and the black, and I helped run 'em a couple of times. Well, Miss Jordan, when it come to running, neither of 'em was one-two-threebeside this chestnut, and if it took five years to get in rifle range of'em for a good shot, it'll take ten to get the chestnut. That's the wayI figure!" And as he ended, his companions nodded soberly. "Plumb streak of light, " they said. "Just nacheral crazy fool when itcomes to running, that hoss is!" And Marianne, for the first time truly appreciating how great was thedanger from which the mares had been saved, sighed as she looked themover again, one by one. It had been a double triumph, this night's work. Not only were the mares retaken, but they had proved their speed andstaying powers conclusively in the long run over the desert. Herveyhimself began hinting, as they rode on, that he would like "to clap asaddle on that Lady Mary hoss, one of these days. " In truth, herpurchase was vindicated completely and Marianne fell into a happy dreamof a ranch stocked with saddle horses all drawn from the blood of theseneat-footed mares. With such horses to offer, she could pick and cullamong the best "punchers" in the West. Into the dream, appropriately enough, ran the neigh of a horse, longdrawn and shrill of pitch, interrupted by a sudden burst ofdeep-throated curses from the riders. The six mares had come to a haltwith their beautiful heads raised to listen, and on a far-off hill, Marysaw the signaler--a chestnut horse gleaming red in the morning light. "It's him!" shouted Hervey. "The nervy devil has come back to give us alook. Shorty, take a crack at him!" For that matter, every man in the party was whipping his rifle out ofits holster as Mary raised her field glass hurriedly to study thestranger. She focused on him clearly at once and it was a startlingthing to see the distant figure shoot suddenly close to her, distinct inevery detail, and every detail an item of perfect beauty. She gasped heradmiration and astonishment; mustang he might be, but the short line ofthe back above and the long line below, the deep set of the shoulders, the length of neck, the Arab perfection of head, would have allowed himto pass unquestioned muster among a group of thoroughbreds, and a pickedgroup at that. He turned, at that instant, and galloped a short distancealong the crest, neighing again, and then paused like an expectant dog, with one forefoot raised, a white-stockinged forefoot. Marianne grippedthe glass hard and then dropped it. By the liquid smoothness of thatgallop, by the white-stockinged forefoot, by something about his head, and above all by what she knew of his cunning, she had recognizedAlcatraz. And where, in the first glimpse, she had been about to warnthe men not to shoot this peerless beauty, she now dropped the glasswith the memory of the trampling of Manuel Cordova rushing back acrossher mind. "It's Alcatraz!" she cried. "It's that chestnut I told you of atGlosterville, Mr. Hervey. Oh, shoot and shoot to kill. He's a murderer--not a horse!" That injunction was not needed. The rifle spoke from the shoulder ofShorty, but the stallion neither fell nor fled, and his challengingneigh rang faintly down to them. "Mind the mares!" shrilled Marianne suddenly. "They're starting forhim!!" In fact, it seemed as though the report of the rifle had started theColes horses towards their late companion They went forward at ahigh-stepping trot as horses will when their minds are not quite made upabout their course. Now, in obedience to shouted orders from Hervey, thecowpunchers split into two groups and slipped away on either side tohead the truants; Marianne herself, spurring as hard as she could afterHervey, heard the foreman groaning: "By God, d'you ever _see_ a hossstand up under gunfire like that?" For as they galloped, the men were pumping in shot after shot wildly, and Alcatraz did not stir! The firing merely served to rouse the maresfrom trot to gallop, and from gallop to run. For the first time Mariannemourned their speed. They glided away as though the horses of thecowpunchers were running fetlock deep in mud; they shot up the slopetowards the distant stallion like six bright arrows. Then came Hervey's last, despairing effort: "Pull up! Shorty! Slim! Pullup and try to drop that devil!" They obeyed; Marianne, racing blindly ahead, heard a clanguor of shotsbehind her and riveted her eyes on the chestnut, waiting for him tofall. But he did not fall. He seemed to challenge the bullets with hislordly head and in another moment he was wheeling with the mares abouthim. Even in her anguish, Marianne noted with a thrill of wonder thatthough the Coles horses were racing at the top of their speed, thestallion overtook them instantly and shot into the lead. For thatmatter, handicapped with a wretched ride, staggering weak fromunderfeeding, he had been good enough to beat them in Glosterville, andnow he was transformed by rich pasture and glorious freedom. The whole group disappeared, and when she reached the crest in turn, shesaw them streaking far off, hopelessly beyond pursuit, and in the rearlabored a grey mare, sadly outrun. Then, as she drew rein, with the mareheaving and swaying from exhaustion beneath her, she remembered thewords of Lew Hervey: "It'll take ten years to get the chestnut!"Marianne dropped her face in her hands and burst into tears. It was only a momentary surrender. When she turned back to join thedownheaded men on the home-trail--for it was worse than useless tofollow Alcatraz on such jaded horses--Marianne had rallied to continuethe fight. Ten years to capture Alcatraz and the mares he led? She sweptthe forms of the cowpunchers with one of those all-embracing glances ofwhich few great men and all excited women are capable. Yes, old agewould capture Alcatraz before such men as these. For this trail therewas needed a spirit as much superior to other men in tireless enduranceand in speed as Alcatraz was superior to other horses. There was neededa man who stood among his fellows as Alcatraz had stood on thehillcrest, defiant, lordly, and free. And as the thought drove home inher, Marianne uttered a little cry of triumph. All in a breath she hadit. Red Perris was the man! But would he come? Yes, for the sake of such a battle as this he wouldjourney to the end of the world and give his services for nothing. CHAPTER XI THE FAILURE Before noon Shorty, that lightweight and tireless rider, unwearied, toall appearance, by his efforts of that night, had started towardsGlosterville with her letter to Perris, but it was not until the nextday that she confessed what she had done to Hervey. Certainly he haddone more than his share in his effort to get back the Coles horses andshe had no wish to needlessly hurt his feelings by letting him know thatthe business was to be taken out of his hands and given into those of amore efficient worker. But Hervey surprised her by the complaisance withwhich he heard the tidings. "Never in my life hung out a shingle as a hoss-catcher, " he assured her. "He's welcome to the job. Me and the boys won't envy him none. It'll bea long trail and a tolerable lonely one, most like. " After that she settled down to wait with as great a feeling of securityas though the mares were already safely back in the corral. If he came, the death-warrant of Alcatraz was as good as signed. But when the thirdday of waiting ended without bringing Shorty and Perris, as it shouldhave done, the "if" began to assume greater proportions, and by lateafternoon of the fourth day she had made up her mind that Perris wasgone from Glosterville and that Shorty was on a wild goose chase afterhim. So great was her gloom that even her father, usually blind to allemotions around him, delayed a moment after he had been helped into hisbuckboard and stared thoughtfully down at her. The habit had grown on Oliver Jordan of late. When the westering sunlost most of its heat and threw slant shadows and a yellow light overthe mountains, Oliver would have a pair of ancient greys, patient asburros and hardly faster, hitched to a buckboard and then drive off intothe evening and perhaps, long after the dinner hour. Only foul weatherkept him in from these lonely jaunts on which he never took a companion. To Marianne they were a never-ending source of wonder and sorrow, forshe saw her father slowly withdrawing himself from the life about himand dwelling in a gentle, uninterrupted melancholy. She met his stare, on this evening, with eyes clouded with tears. Truly he had aged wonderfully in the past years. The accident which robbed him of his physical freedom seemed, at thesame time, to destroy all spirit of youth. Whether walking or sitting hewas bowed. His eyes were dull. Beside his mouth and between his eyesdeep lines gave a sad dignity to his expression. And though, as hiscowpunchers swore, his hand was as swift to draw a gun as ever and hiseye as steady on a target, he had gradually lost interest in even hisrevolvers. Indeed, what real interest remained to him in the world, Marianne was unable to tell. He lived and moved as one in a dreamsurrounded by a world of dreams. His eyes were dull from looking intothe dim distance of strange thoughts, and the smile which was rarelyaway from his lips was rather whimsically enduring than a sign of mirth. But as he looked down at her from the buckboard, Marianne saw hisexpression clear to awareness of her. He even reached out and rested hishand on her head so that her face was tilted up to him. "Honey, " he said, "you're eating your heart out about something. Howcome?" "Red Perris is overdue, " she said. "But I don't want to bother you withmy troubles, Dad. " "Red Perris? Who's he?" "Don't you remember? I told you how he rode Rickety. And now I've sentfor him to come and hunt Alcatraz--because once that man-killing horseis dead, it will be easy to get the mares back. And every day counts--every day the mares are getting wilder!" "What mares?" Then he nodded. "I remember. And they ain't nothing butthat worrying you, Marianne. " His expression of concern vanished; his glance wandered far east wherethe shades were already brimming the valleys. "I'll be getting on, then, honey. " All at once, for pity at thought of him driving into the lonelysilences, she caught his hand. It was still lean, hard of palm, sinewywith strength of which most extreme age, indeed, would never entirelyrob it. And the touch of those strong fingers called back to her mindthe picture of Oliver Jordan as he had been, a kingly man among men. Tears came into the eyes of Marianne. "But where are you going?" she asked him gently. "And why do you neverlet me go with you, dear?" "You?" he chuckled. "Waste time driving out nowheres with an old codgerlike me? I didn't give you all that schooling to have you throw yourlife away doing things like that. Don't you bother about me, Marianne. I'm just going to drift over yonder around Jackson Peak. You see?" "But who is there, and what is there?" He merely rubbed his knuckles across his forehead and then shook hishead. "I dunno. Nothing much. It's tolerable quiet, though. And you getthe smell of the pines the minute the trail starts climbing. Sort of alazy place to go, but then I've turned into a lazy man, honey. Justsitting and thinking is about all I'm good for, or most like just thesitting without the thinking. Why, Marianne, where'd you get themtears?" She choked them back. "I wish--I wish--" she began. "That's right, " he nodded. "Keep right on wishing things. That's what Ibeen doing lately. And wishing things is better than doing them. The waykids are, that's the best way to be. S'long, Marianne. " She stepped back, trying valiantly to smile, and he raised a cautioningfinger, chuckling: "Look here, now, don't you go to bothering your headabout me. Just save your worrying for this Perris gent. " He clucked to the greys and their sudden start threw him violentlyagainst the back of the seat. The promise of that start, however, was by no means borne out by thepace into which they immediately fell, which was a dog-trot executedwith trailing hoofs that raised little wisps of dust at every stride. She saw the lines slacken and hang loosely to every swing of thebuckboard. Had she not, ten years before, trembled at the sight of thissame team dashing into the road, high-headed, eyes of fire, and thereins humming with the strength of Oliver Jordan's pull? The buckboard jolted slowly down the road and swung out of sight, butMarianne Jordan remained for long moments, staring after her father. Every time they passed through one of these interviews--and today'stalk had been longer than most--she always felt that she had been pusheda little farther away from him. At the very time of his life when hisdaughter should have become a comfort to him, Oliver Jordan withdrewhimself more and more from the world, and she could not but feel thathis evening drives through the silences of the hill were dearer andcloser to him than his daughter. The buckboard reappeared, lurching up afarther knoll, and then rolled out of sight to be seen no more. AndMarianne felt again, what she had often felt before, seeing her fatherdrive away in this fashion, that some day Oliver Jordan would never comeback from the hills. A moment later half a dozen of the cowpunchers came into view with theunmistakable form of Lew Hervey in the lead. He was a big-looking man inthe saddle and he showed himself to the greatest advantage by ridingrigidly erect with his head thrown a little back, so that the loose brimof his sombrero was continually in play about his face. For all herdislike of him she could not but admit that he was the beau ideal of thefine horseman. The dominant leader showed in every line and it was nowonder that the cowpunchers feared and respected him. Besides, therewere many tales of his prowess with rifle and revolver to make him standout in bolder relief. She saw the riders disappear in the direction of the corrals and thenturned back towards the house. Unquestionably it was to avoid sight ofhis men returning from their day's work that Oliver Jordan usually droveoff at this time of the day; it brought home to him too keenly the manytimes when he himself had ridden back by the side of Lew Hervey from aday of galloping in the wind; it crushed him with a sense of theimpotence into which his life had fallen. Indeed, unless some vitalchange came, her father must soon mourn himself into a grave. For thefirst time Marianne clearly perceived this. Oliver Jordan was wastingfor grief over his lost freedom just as some youthful lover mightdecline because of the death of his mistress. The shock of thisperception brought Marianne to a halt. When she looked up Shorty and RedPerris were not a hundred yards away, swinging along at a steady lope! All sad thoughts were whisked from her mind as a gust whirls dead leavesaway and shows the green grass beneath, newly growing. How it lifted herheart to see him. But she looked down, with a cold falling of gloom, ather blue gingham dress. That was not as she wished to appear. She couldbe in her riding costume, with the rather mannish blouse and looselytied cravat, spurs on her boots and quirt in her hand as became themistress and ruling force of a big ranch. Then she received sudden andconvincing proof that mere outward appearances meant nothing in the lifeof Red Jim Perris. He took off his hat and swung it in greeting. Therewas a white flash of his teeth as he laughed, a red flash of his amazinghair in the sunset light. Then he was pulling up and swinging down tothe ground. He came to meet her with his hat dangling in one hand andthe other extended. Typically Western, she thought, that in their second meeting he shouldact like an old friend. Delightfully Western, too! Under hisstraight-glancing eyes, his open smile of pleasure, new confidence camein Marianne, new self-reliance. The grip of his hand sent strength up herarm and into her heart. "I'd given you up, " she admitted. "Mighty sorry it took so long, " said Perris. "You see, I was right inthe middle of a little poker game that hung on uncommon long. But whenit finished up, me and Shorty come as fast as we could. Eh, Shorty?" "Huh!" grunted Shorty. Marianne looked to her messenger for the firsttime. He sat his saddle loosely, one hand falling heavily on the pommel, andhis head bent. He did not raise it to meet her glance, but rolled hiseyes up in a gloomy scowl which flitted over her face and then came to arest on the face of Red Jim Perris. A frown of weariness puckered thebrow of Shorty. Purple, bruised places of sleeplessness surrounded hiseyes. And every line of age or worry or labor was graven more deeply onhis face. "Huh!" grunted Shorty again, mumbling his words very much like adrunkard. "I've killed my Mamie hoss, that's all!" And with this gloomy retort, he urged the mare to a down-headed trot. Infact, the staunch little brown mare staggered on tired legs and hersides heaved like bellows. The grey horse of Red Jim Perris was inhardly better condition. "I wanted you quickly, " said Marianne, a little horrified. "But I didn'task you to kill your horses coming. " "Kill 'em?" said Perris, and he cast a sharp glance of disapproval ather. "Not much! That hoss of mine is a pile fagged. I aim to get herthat way. But she'll be fit as a fiddle in the morning. I ride her tillshe's through and never a step more. I know the minute she's throughworking on muscle and starts working on her nerve, and when that timecomes, I stop. I've put up in the middle of nowheres to let her get backher wind. Kill her? Nope, lady, and the only reason Shorty's hoss was soused up was because he plumb insisted on keeping up with us!" And Marianne nodded. Ordinarily such a speech would have drawn argumentfrom her. Indeed, her own submissiveness startled her as she foundherself gently inviting the fire eater to come into the house and learnin detail the work which lay before him. CHAPTER XII FROM THE HIP Shorty rode for the bunkhouse instead of the corrals and tumbling outof the saddle he staggered through the door. Inside, the cowpunchers satabout enjoying a before-dinner smoke and the coolness which the eveningwash had brought to their wind-parched skins. Shorty reeled through themidst of them to his bunk and collapsed upon it. Not a man stirred. Not an eye followed him. No matter what curiosity wasburning in their vitals, etiquette demanded that they ask no questions. If in no other wise, the Indian has left his stamp on the country in themanners of the Western riders. In the meantime, Shorty lay on his back with his arms flung outcrosswise, his eyes closed, his breath expelled with a moan and drawn inwith a rattle. "Slim!" he called at length. Slim raised his little freckled face which was supported by a neck ofuncanny length, and he blinked unconcernedly at his bunkie. He andShorty were inseparable companions. "Take the saddle off my horse and put 'er up, " groaned Shorty. "I'm deadbeat!" "Maybe you been chasing Perris on foot, " observed Lew Hervey. Directquestions were still not in order, but often a man could be taunted intospeech. "Damn Perris and damn him black, " retorted Shorty, opening his eyes witha snap and letting a glance blaze into space. "Of all theleather-skinned, mule-muscled, wrong-headed gents I ever seen he's theoutlastingest. " "You sure got your vocabulary all warmed up, " observed Little Joe, so-called because of two hundred pounds of iron-hard sinew and muscle. Slim was wandering towards the door to execute his mission, but he kepthis head cocked towards his prostrated friend to learn as much aspossible before he left. "Which I disremember, " went on Little Joethoughtfully, "of you ever putting so many words together withoutcussing. Perris must of give you some Bible study down to Glosterville. " It brought Shorty up on one bulging elbow and he glared at Little Joe. "Bible?" snorted Shorty. "His idea of a Bible is fifty-two cards and ajoker. He does his praying with one foot on a footrail. " "He'll sure fit in fine here, " drawled Little Joe. "What with a girl forour boss and a hired hoss-catcher, none of us being good enough to takethe job, we-all will get a mighty fine rep around these parts. You doneyourself proud bringing him up here, Shorty. " "Laugh, damn you, " said Shorty, heated to such a point that hehalf-forgot his exhaustion. "You ain't been through what I been through. You ain't man enough to of lasted. " The imputation sobered Little Joe andhe shrugged his massive shoulders significantly. Shorty's laugh was shrillwith contempt. "Oh, you're big enough, " he sneered. "But what does beefcount agin a lightning flash?" He grew reminiscent. "I seen him bluffdown the Wyoming Kid, yesterday. " A religious silence spread in the bunkhouse. The cowpunchers sat asstiff as though in Sunday store-clothes. Shorty took advantage of thisfavoring hush. "I find him sitting in at a game of poker and I give him the girl'sletter. He shakes it open saying: 'See that ten and raise you ten more. 'I look over his shoulder as he flips up his cards. He's got a measlypair of deuces! Then he reads the letter and hands it back to me. 'Is itas bad as all that?' he says. 'See that other five and raise youtwenty. ' 'You're too strong for me Red, ' says the gent that was buckinghim--and lays down to that pair of deuces! I read the letter: "'Dear Mr. Perris, "'I know you don't like to hire out. But this is a job where you won'thave a boss. The chestnut horse that nearly killed Manuel Cordova--Alcatraz--has come to my ranch and stolen half a dozen valuable mares. Will you come up and try to get rid of him for me? The job seems to betoo big for my men. Name your own terms. "'Cordially yours, "'Marianne Jordan. ' "I hands him back the letter while he rakes in his winnings. 'I wouldn'tgo as far as she does about the men she's got, ' I says, 'but the hoss issure a fast thinking, fast moving devil. ' "'Well, ' says he, 'it sort of sounds good to me. Soon as this game bustsup we'll start. They's only four of us. Won't you take a hand?' "Well, that game run on forty hours. Every time I got busted he stakedme agin like a millionaire. But finally we was both flat. "'All right, ' says he, 'I got a purse light enough for travel now. Let'sstart. ' "'Without no sleep?' says I. "'Have it your own way, ' says he. 'We'll have a snooze and then start. ' "We didn't have the price of another room. He took me up to his room andmakes me take the bed while he curls up on the floor. The next minutehe's snoring while I was still arguing about not wanting to take thebed. "Minute later I was asleep, but didn't seem my eyes were more'n closewhen he gives me a shake. "'Five o'clock, ' says he, 'and time to start. ' "We'd gone to bed about twelve but I wasn't going to let him putanything over on me. He bums a breakfast off the hotel, stalls 'em onhis bill, and then we hit the road, him singing every step of the wayand me near dead for sleep. I got so mad I couldn't talk. That damnsinging sure was riding my nerves. I tried to take it out on a squirrelthat run across the road but I missed him. "'Tell you what, partner, ' says Perris, 'for a quick shot, shooting fromthe hip is the only stuff. ' "'Shooting from the hip at squirrels?' says I. 'I've read about that sortof stuff in a book, but it never was done out of print. ' "'Just a matter of practice, ' says he. "'Huh, ' says I, 'I'm here to see and do my talking afterwards. ' "Just then another squirrel pops across the trail dodging like ayearling trying to get back to the herd. Quick as a wink out comes Red'sgun. It just does a flip out of the holster and bang! The dust jumpedright under the squirrel's belly. Bang! goes the gat again and MisterSquirrel's tail is chopped plumb in two and then he ducks down his holeby the side of the trail and we hear him squealing and chatteringcusswords at us. "I never see such shooting in my life. But Perris puts up his gun andgets red as a girl when two gents ask her for the same dance. "'I'm plumb out of practice, ' he says. 'Anyways, I guess I been talkingtoo much. You'll have to excuse me, Shorty!' "And he meant it. He wasn't talking guff. Didn't seem possible anybodycould shoot as fast and straight as that, but Perris was all cut upbecause he'd missed and he didn't do no more singing for about half anhour. And I needed that time for a lot of thinking. Made up my mind thatif anybody wanted to make trouble for Perris they could count me out ofthe party. "And he kept on singing, when he started again, all the way to the ranchand me wondering when I was going to go to sleep and fall off. I triedto make talk. Seen a queer looking fob he wore for his watch pocket. Asked him where he got it. "'Tell you about it, ' he says. 'Comes from me being plumb peaceable. ' Iremembered some of the things I'd heard about Red Perris in Glostervilleand didn't say nothing. I just swallowed hard and took a squint at acloud. 'Four or five years back, ' he says, 'when they was more liquorand ambition floating around these parts, I was up in a littlecross-roads saloon in Utah, near Gunterville. Saloon was pretty jammedwith folks, all strangers to me. I wasn't packing a gun. Never do when I'min a crowd, if I can help it. Well, I got into a little game of stud, andthings were running pretty easy for me when a big gent across the tablethat had been losing hard and drinking hard ups and says he allows Isure have the cards talking. It sort of riled me. I tell him prettyliberal what I think of him and all like him. I go back into the pastand give him a nice little description all about his ancestors. I aim towind up with an invite to step outside and have it out with fists, buthe don't wait. Right in the middle of my sermon he outs with a gat andblazes away at me. The slug drills me in the thigh and I go down. "'Well, this is the slug. And I been wearing it to remind me that Iparticular want to meet up with that same gent before he gets too oldfor a gunfight!'" Here Shorty paused and sighed, shaking his bullet-head. And a deepmurmur of appreciation passed around the room. Shorty sank back again onthe bunk and turned his broad back on the crowd. "Don't nobody wake me for chuck, " he warned them. "I've just finishedcramming a month into four days and I got a night off coming. " Instantly his snoring began but it was some moments before anyone spoke. Then it was Little Joe in his solemn bass voice. "Sounds man-sized, " he declared. "Wears a bullet for a watch-fob, bustshosses for fun, sleeps one day a week, and don't work under a boss. Hervey, you'll have to put on kid gloves when you talk to that Perris, eh? Hey, where you going?" "He's going out to think it over!" chuckled another. "He needs air, andI don't blame him. Just as soon be foreman over a wildcat as over a gentlike Perris. There goes the gong!" CHAPTER XIII THE BARGAIN But in spite of the dinner bell, Hervey made for the corrals instead ofthe house, roped and saddled the fastest pony in his string, jogged outto the eastern trail, and then sent his mount at a run into the eveninghaze. After a time he drew back to a more moderate gait, but still thenarrow firs shot smoothly and swiftly past him for well over half anhour until the twilight settled into darkness and the treetops movedpast the horseman against a sky alive with the brighter stars of themountains. He reached the hills. The trail tangled into zigzag lines, tossing up and down, dodging here and there. And in one of these elbowturns, a team of horses loomed huge and black above him, and against thestars behind the hilltop it seemed as though the team were stepping outinto the thin air. Behind them, Lew Hervey made out the low body of thebuckboard and on the seat a squat, bunched figure with head dropped solow that the sombrero seemed to rest flat on the shoulders. Hervey raised his hand with a shout of relief: "Hey, Jordan!" The brakes crashed home, but the impetus of the downgrade bore the wagonto the bottom of the little slope before it came to a stop and Herveywas choked by the cloud of dust. He fanned a clear path for his voice. "It's me. Hervey. " And he came close to the wagon. "Well, Lew?" queried the uninterested voice of the master. Hervey leaned a little from the saddle and peered anxiously at the "bigboss. " He counted on creating a panic with his news. But a man past hopemight very well be a man past fear. Hopeless Oliver Jordan certainly hadbeen since his accident, hopeless and blind. That blindness had enabledHervey to reap tidy sums out of his management of the ranch, and nowthat the coming of the sharp-eyed girl had cut off his sources ofrevenue he was ready to fight hard to put himself back in the saddle asunquestioned master of the Valley of the Eagles. But he could only workon Jordan through fear and what capacity for that emotion remained inthe rancher. He struck at once. "Jordan, have you got a gun with you?" "Gun? Nope. What do I need a gun for?" "Take this, then. It's my old gat. You know it pretty near as well as Ido. " A nerveless hand accepted the heavy weapon and allowed it to sink idlyupon his knee. "How come?" drawled Jordan, and the heart of Lew Hervey sank. This wascertainly not the voice of a man liable to panic. "You and me got a bad time coming, Jordan, when we get to the ranch. He's there, and he's a devil for a fight!" "Who?" "Him! You remember that fight you got into in that saloon up in Wyoming?That night you and me was at the cross-roads saloon and you got off yourfeed with red-eye?" The figure on the seat of the buckboard grew taller. "Do I remember? Aye, and I'll never forget! The one downright bad thingI've ever done, Hervey. It was the infernal red-eye that made me a crazyman. You should of let me go back and see how bad he was hurt, Lew!" "Nope. I was right. Best thing a gent can do after he's dropped his manis to climb a hoss and feed it leather. " "He didn't have a gun, " groaned Jordan heavily. "But I forgot it. Thered-eye got to working on me. I was losing. It was the one rotten yallerthing I ever done, Lew!" "I know. And now he's here. He's Red Perris!" "Red Perris!" breathed Oliver Jordan. "The man Marianne sent for? Why--why it's like fate, her bringing him right to the ranch!" Hervey was discreetly silent. "But, " cried Jordan suddenly, and there was a ghost of the old ring inhis voice, "I dropped him once by a crooked play and now I'll drop himfair and square, if he's here looking for trouble! I don't want yourhelp, Lew. Mighty fine of you to offer it, but I ain't plumb forgot howto shoot. I don't want help!" Hervey waited a moment for that heat of defiance to die away. Then hesaid with the quiet of certainty: "No use, Jordan. No use at all. Shorty seen this gent do some shooting on the way up to the ranch. Hepulled on a squirrel that dodged across the trail. First slug knockeddust into the squirrel's belly-fur and the second chipped off his tail. Both of them slugs would have landed dead-center in a target as big asthe body of a man!" He paused again. He could hear the heavy breathing of Oliver Jordan andthe figure of the driver swayed a little back and forth in the seat as aman will do when his mind is swinging from one alternative to another. "He done that shooting from the hip, " added Hervey, as though byafterthought. There was a gasp from Jordan. "Good God, Lew! You don't mean that!" "That's what he done the shooting for--to show Shorty how to get off aquick shot. Shorty says he got his gun out and fired inside the timeit'd take a common gun-man to wink twice. And that's why you and me havegot to face him together, chief. You know I ain't particular yaller. ButI'd as soon tackle a machine gun with a pea-shooter as run into thisPerris all by myself. He's bad medicine, chief!" "Two to one. That'd be worse'n murder, Lew. Neither you nor me couldever hold up a head around these parts again if the two of us jumped onegent. " "I know it, " said Hervey solemnly. "But it's better to be shamed than tobe dead. That's the way I figure. And I ain't so sure that both of ustogether could win out. " There was another interval of silence, far more important than manywords. Through the hush Hervey, with a beating heart, strove to peerinto the mind of the rancher. "I'll go back and face him all by myself, " said Jordan huskily. "I'lllet him rub out that old score. If he finishes me--well, what good am Iin the world, anyway? No good, Lew. I'm done for just as much as thoughsomebody had plugged me with a gat. Let Perris finish the job. " He addedhastily: "But these five years have changed me a lot. Maybe he won'tknow me. " "You ain't changed that much, Jordan. Look at Howlands. He hadn't seenyou for eight years. He knew you right off. " "Ay, " growled Jordan. "That's true enough. But what makes you so surethat Perris is so hot after me. Ain't there been time enough for him tocool down?" With the skill of a connoisseur, saving his choicest morsel for theend, Hervey had waited for the most favorable opportunity beforestriking home with his most convincing item. "You remember you drilled him in the leg, chief?" "I remember everything. The whole damned affair has never been out of myhead for a whole day. I've gone over every detail of it a thousandtimes, Lew!" "So has Perris, " answered Lew Hervey solemnly. "That slug of yours--whenthe doctor cut it out of his leg he had it fixed up and now he wears itfor a fob so's he won't forget the gent that shot him down that nightwhen he wasn't armed!" "Most like that's why he's practiced so much with a gun, " mutteredJordan. "He's been getting ready for me. " "Most like, " said the gloomy Hervey, but his voice well-nigh trembledwith gratification. The head of Jordan bowed again, but this time, as Hervey shrewdlyguessed, it was in thought, not in despair. "Why, " chuckled Jordan at last, "what we wasting all this fool timeabout? You just slip back to the ranch and fire Perris. " In the favoring dark, Hervey threw back his head and made a grimace ofjoy. Exactly as he had prefigured, this talk was going. Every card wasbeing played into his hand as though his wishes were subconsciouslyentering and ruling the mind of the chief. "I can't do it, " he answered firmly. "You can't? Ain't you foreman?" "No, " said Hervey, and a trace of bitterness came into his voice. "Iused to be. But you know as well as me that I'm only a straw boss now. Miss Marianne is running things, big and small. Besides, she picked upPerris. And she won't let him go easy, I tell you!" "What do you mean by that, Hervey?" "I seen her face when she met him. I was standing outside thebunkhouse. And she sure was tolerable pleased to see him. " A tremendous oath burst from Jordan. "You mean she's sweet on this--this Perris?" But he added: "Why shouldthat rile me? Maybe he's all right. " "He's one of them flashy dressers, " said Lew Hervey. "Silk shirts andswell bandannas and he wears shopmade boots and keep 'em all shined up. Besides, it's dead easy for him to talk to a girl. He's the kind thatget on with 'em pretty well. " The innuendo brought a huge roar from Oliver Jordan. "By God, Lew, d'you think that's what it means? I thought she talkedpretty strong about this Perris!" "Maybe I've said too much, " said Hervey. "Not a word too much, " said Jordan heartily, and reaching through thenight he found the hand of Hervey and wrung it heartily. "I know howsquare you are, Lew. I know how you've stood by me. I'd stake my lastdollar on you!" Hervey blessed again the mercy of the darkness which concealed thecrimson that spread hotly over his face. There was enough truth in whatthe rancher said to make the untruths the more painful. Before theaccident Hervey had, indeed, been all that anyone could ask in amanager. But when too much authority came into his hands owing to thecrippling of his chief, the temptation proved too strong for resistance. It was all so easy. A few score of cows run off here and there werenever noted, and his share in the profit was fifty-fifty. Indeed, as thehand of Jordan crushed over his own he came perilously near to making aclean breast of everything, but the memory of his fat and growingbank-account gagged the confession. "If that's the way things are standing, " Jordan was saying, "we got toget rid of this skunk Perris. Good-looking, as I remember him, andMarianne is so darned lonely on the ranch that she might begin to takehim serious and--Hervey, I'll give you a written note. That'll beauthority. I'll give you a note to Marianne, telling her that I've gotto go across the mountains and that I want you to have the running ofthe place till I get back. I guess that'll give you a free hand, Lew!You fire that Perris, and when he's gone, send me word over to the hotelin Lawrence. That's where I'll go. " Hervey appeared dubious with great skill. "I'll take the note, Jordan, " he said, putting all the despair he couldsummon into his tone. "But it sure goes hard--the idea of losing myplace up here. I've been in the Valley so long, you see, that it's likea home to me. " "And who the devil said anything about you leaving? Ain't I just nowabout to give you a note to run the ranch while I'm gone?" "Sure you are. And I'll take it--and fire Perris. But when you comeback--that's the end of me!" "What?" "You know how your daughter is. She'll plumb hate me when I come backwith orders to run things. She'll think I asked for 'em. " "I'll tell her different. " "Were you ever able to convince her, once she made up her mind?" "H-m-m, " growled Jordan. "And she'll never rest till things are so hot for me that I got to getout. Not that I grudge it, Jordan. I'd give up more than this job foryour sake. Only it sure makes me homesick to think about starting out atmy time of life and riding herd for a strange outfit. " "You ride for another outfit?" said Jordan. "And after you've workedthis game on Perris for me? I'll tell you what, Lew, if you get Perrissafe off the ranch you can stop worrying. You're foreman for life! Youhave my word for it. " "But suppose--" protested Hervey faintly. "Suppose nothing. You have my word. Besides, I'm tired of talking!" With well-acted diffidence, Lew held out the paper, which Oliver Jordansnatched and smoothed on his knee. Then Hervey rode closer, lighted amatch, and held it so that the rancher could see to write. "Dear Marianne, " scrawled the pencil, "this is to let you know that Ihave to go on business to--" "Better not tell her where, " suggested Hervey. "She might send after andask a lot of bothersome questions. You know the way a woman is. " "You sure got a fine head for business, Lew, " nodded Jordan, andcontinued his note: "to a town across the mountains and it may be a fewdays before I get back. I met Lew on the road, so I'm letting him takethis note back to you Another thing: I've told Lew about several thingsI want done while I'm gone. Easier than explaining them all to you, honey, he can do them himself and tell you later. Affectionately, " As he scrawled the signature Hervey suggested softly: "Suppose you putdown at the bottom: 'This will serve as authority to Lew Hervey to actin my name while I'm away. '" "Sure, " nodded Jordan, as he scribbled the dictated words. "Marianne isa stickler for form. She'll want something like that to convince her. " He shoved the paper into the trembling hand of Lew Hervey, and sighedwith weariness. "Chief, " muttered Hervey, finding that even in the darkness he could notlook into the tired, pain-worn face of the rancher, "I sure hope younever have no call to be sorry for this. " "Sorry? I ain't bothering about that. So long, Lew. " But Lew Hervey had suddenly lost his voice. He could only wave hisadieu. CHAPTER XIV STRATEGY Never had Red Perris passed a night of such pleasant dreams. Fornever, indeed, had he been so exquisitely flattered as during thepreceding evening when Marianne Jordan kept him after dinner in theranchhouse while the other hired men, as was their custom, loiteredto smoke their after-dinner cigarettes in the moist coolness of thepatio. For the building was on the Spanish-Mexican style. The wallswere heavy enough to defy the most biting cold of winter and the mostsearching sun in summer. And they marched in a wide circle aroundan interior court which was bordered with a clumsy arcade of 'dobepillars. By daylight the defects in construction were rather tooapparent. But at night the effect was imposing, almost grand. But while the cowhands smoked in the patio, the noise of theirlaughter and their heavy voices penetrated no louder than the dimhumming of bees to the ear of Red Jim Perris, sitting tęte-ā-tęte withMarianne in an inner room. And he did not envy the sprawling freedomof those outside. Pretty girls had come his way now and again during his wanderingsnorth and south and east and west through the mountain deserts. Butnever before had he seen one in such a background. She had had thegood taste to make the inside of the house well-nigh as Spanish as itsexterior. There were cool, dim spaces in the big rooms; and here andthere were bright spots of color. Her very costume for the eveningshowed the same discrimination. She wore drab riding clothes. But fromher own garden she had chosen a scentless blossom of a kind which RedPerris had never seen before. The absent charm of perfume was turnedinto a deeper coloring, a crimson intense as fire in the darkness ofher hair. That one touch of color, and no more, but it gave wonderfulwarmth to her eyes and to her smile. And indeed she was not sparing in her smiles. Red Jim Perris pleasedher, and she was not afraid to show it. To be sure, she talked of thebusiness before them, but she talked of it only in scattered phrases. Other topics drew her away. A score of little side-issues carried heraway. And Jim Perris was glad of the diversions. For the only thing which he disliked in her, the only thing whichrepelled him time and again, was this eagerness of hers to have thechestnut stallion killed. She spoke of Alcatraz with a consuminghatred. And Perris was a little horrified. He knew that Alcatrazhad stolen away the six mares, and Marianne explained brieflyand eloquently how much the return of those mares meant to herself-respect and to the financial soundness of the ranch. But this, after all, was a small excuse for an ugly passion. If he could haveknown that with her own eyes she had seen the chestnut crush Cordovato shapelessness and almost to death, the mystery might have beencleared. But Marianne could not refer to that terrible memory. All shecould say was that Alcatraz must be killed--at once! And she said itwith her eyes on fire with detestation. Indeed, that touch of angry passion in her was the flower of Hermes toRed Jim, keeping him from complete infatuation when she sang to him, playing her own lightly-touched accompaniment at the piano. He hadnever been entertained like this before. And when a girl sang a loveballad and at the same time looked at him with eyes at once seriousand laughing, he had to set his teeth and shake himself to keep fromtaking the words of the poet too literally. Perhaps Marianne was goinga little farther than she intended. But after all, every good womanhas a tremendous desire to make men happy, and handsome Jim Perriswith his straight, steady eyes and his free laughter was such apleasant fellow to work with that Marianne quite forgot moderation. And before the evening was over, Jim had come within a hair's breadthof plunging over the cliff and confessing his admiration in terms sooutright that Marianne would have closed up her charming gaiety as aflower closes up its beauty and fragrance at the first warning chillof night. A dozen times Red Perris came to this alarming point, but hewas always saved by remembering that this delightful girl had broughthim here for the purpose of--killing a horse. And that memory chilledJim to the very core of his manly heart. Of course he knew that wild-running stallions who steal saddle stockmust be cleared from a range, and by shooting if necessary. He wouldhave received such an order from a man and never thought the less ofhim, but the command was too stern for the smiling lips of Marianne. To be sure, Perris was by no means a gentle rider. In fact, he rode so_very_ hard that only fine horses could measure up to his demands, andwho, since the world began, has ridden many fine horses without comingto love the entire race? Red Perris, at least, was such a man, andindeed he spent many an hour dreaming of some happy day when he shouldfind beneath him a mount with speed like an eagle, soul of a lion, andthe gentle, trusting heart of a child. Finally, the evening ended. He left the house and the puzzled smileof Marianne behind him and went to the bunkhouse and a sleep of happydreams. But every dream ended with the thought of a wild chestnutrunning into the circle of his rifle's sights, leaping into the air atthe report of his gun, and dropping inert on the grass. What wonder, then, that when he wakened he thought of Marianne Jordan with mixedemotions? Perhaps the really important point was that he thought ofher so much, whether for good or evil. He went in with the other men to breakfast in the long dining-room ofthe ranch house, and there was Marianne Jordan again presiding at thehead of the table. But half of the glamour of the evening before wasgone from her and she kept her eyes seriously lowered, frowning. Infact, she had much to think about, for late the preceding evening LewHervey had come to her and showed her the first note that her fatherhad written. She was not alarmed by this sudden trip over themountains. There had been so many vagaries in the actions of OliverJordan in the past few months that this unannounced drive to anundetermined destination was not particularly surprising. It was onlythe delegation of such authority to Hervey that astonished her. She forgot even Red Jim Perris and the lost Coles horses in herabstraction, for whenever she looked down the table she saw nothingsaving the erect, burly form of the foreman, swelling, so it seemed toher, with a newly acquired and aggressive importance. However, he hadthe written word of her father, and she had to set her teeth over herirritation and digest it as well as he could. Hervey had presented reasonable excuses, to be sure. There was certainwork of fence-repairing, certain construction of sheds which hehad called to the attention of Oliver Jordan and which Jordan hadcommissioned him to overlook during his absence. "I told him they wasn't any use in writing out a note like this one, "Hervey had assured her, "but you know how the chief is, these days. Sort of set in his ways when he makes up his mind about anything. " And this was so entirely true that she was half-inclined to dismissthe whole matter from her mind. Oliver Jordan paid so little heed tothe running of the ranch and when he did make a suggestion he was soperemptory about it, that this commission to Hervey was not altogetherastonishing. Nevertheless, it kept her absent-minded throughoutbreakfast. Red Perris was naturally somewhat offended by the blankness of her eyeas she passed him over. She had been so extremely intimate and cordialthe night before that this neglect was almost an insult. Perhaps shehad only been playing a game--trying to amuse herself during a dullhour instead of truly wishing to please him. He grew childishly sulkyat the thought. After all, there _was_ a good deal of the spoiledchild about Red Jim. He had had his way in the world so much thatopposition or neglect threw him into a temper. And he stamped out of the dining-room ahead of the rest of the men, his head down, his brows black. Lew Hervey, following with the othermen, had noted everything. It behooved him to be on the watch duringthe time of trial and triumph and at breakfast he had observed RedPerris looking at the girl a dozen times with an anticipatory smilewhich changed straightway to glumness when her glance passed himcarelessly by. And now Hervey communicated his opinions to the otherson the way to the bunkhouse to get their things for the day's riding. "Our new friend, the gun-fighter, " he said, pointedly emphasizing thelast phrase, "ain't none too happy this morning. Marianne give him asmile last night and he was waiting for another this morning. He surelooks cut up, eh?" The bowed head and rounded shoulders of Red Perris brought a chucklefrom the cowpunchers. They were not at all kindly disposed towardshim. Too much reputation is a bad thing for a man to have on his handsin the West. He is apt to be expected to live up to it every moment ofhis waking hours. Not a man in the Valley of the Eagles outfit but waswaiting to see the newcomer make the first move towards bullying oneof them. And such a move they were prepared to resent en masse. ThatMarianne might have made a good deal of a fool out of Perris, asHervey suggested, pleased them immensely. "Maybe the ranch suits him pretty well, " suggested Slim, ironically. "Maybe he figures it might be worth his while to pick it up bymarrying the old man's girl. Eh, Lew?" Lew Hervey shrugged his shoulders. He did not wish to directly accusethe gun-fighter of anything, for talk is easily traced to its sourceand the account of Shorty had filled the foreman with immense respectfor the fighting qualities of Red Perris. However, he was equallydetermined to rouse a hostile sentiment towards him among thecowhands. "Well, " said Lew, "you can't blame a gent for playing for high stakesif he's going to gamble at all. I guess Red Perris is all right. A kidlike him can't help being a little proud of himself. " "Damn fat-head, " growled Slim, less merciful, "sat right next to meand didn't say two words all through breakfast. Ain't going to wasteno words on common cowpunchers, maybe. " So the first impression of Red Jim was created on the ranch, animpression which might be dispelled by the first real test of the man, or which in the absence of such a test might cling to him forever:Perris was a conceited gun-fighter, heart-breaker, and bully. The menwho trooped into the bunkhouse behind him already hated him with areligious intensity; in ten minutes, they might have accepted him as abunkie! For your true Western cowpuncher, when all is said and done, unites with Spartan stoicism a Spartan keenness of suspicion. It was not hard for the foreman to see the trend of events. Somethinghad roused an ugly mood in Perris. It might be, as he surmised, thegirl. No matter what, he was obviously not in a mood to bear tamperingwith. Hervey determined to force the issue at once, knowing that hisother men would be a solid unit behind him. "Hey there, Red!" he called, cheerily enough, but brusquely, and then, bending over to fuss at a spur, he winked broadly at the other men. They were instantly keen for the baiting of Perris, whatever form itmight take. "Well?" said Red Perris. "Trot over to the corral and rope that Roman-nosed buckskin with thewhite stockings on her forelegs, will you? I got a few things to tendto in here. " Now there was nothing entirely unheard of in a foreman ordering one ofhis men to catch a saddle horse for him. But usually such things weredone by request rather than demand, and moreover, there was somethingso breezy in the manner of Hervey, taking the compliance of Red sofor granted, that the latter raised his head slowly and turned to theforeman with a gloomy eye. He had come to the ranch to hunt a wildhorse, not to play valet to a foreman. "Partner, " drawled Red Perris, and the silken smoothness of his toneswas ample proof that he was enraged. "I don't know the ways you folkshave up here, but around the parts where I've been, a gent that's bigenough to ride is big enough to saddle his own hoss. " The reply of Lew Hervey was just sharp enough to goad thenewcomer--just soft enough to stay on the windward side of an insult. "I'll tell you, " he said quietly. "Around the Valley of the Eagles, the boys do what the foreman asks 'em to do, most generally. And theforeman don't play favorites. I'm waiting for that hoss, Perris. " Perris rolled a cigarette, and smiled as he looked at Hervey. It was asickly smile, his lips being white and stiff. And in another, it mighthave been considered a sign of fear. In Red Perris everyone thereknew it was simply the badge of a rising fury. They knew, by the sametoken, that he was as dangerous as he had been advertised. Men whomanger reddens are blinded by it; but those who turn pale never stopthinking. Meantime, Red Jim looked at Hervey and looked at thecowpunchers behind Hervey. It was not hard to see that in a pinch theywould be solid behind their foreman. They watched him with a wolfisheagerness. Why they should be so instantly hostile he could not guessbut he was enough of a traveller to be prepared for strange customsin strange places. There was only one important point: he would notsaddle the buckskin. Moreover, at sight of their solid front and theiraggressive sneers he grew fighting hot. "How gents come in these parts, " he said with deliberate scorn, "Idunno. And I don't care a damn. If they brush their foreman's bootsand saddle his hosses for him, they can go ahead and do it. But Icome up here to catch a wild hoss that the gents in the Valley of theEagles couldn't get. That's my job, and nothing else. " The growl of his cowpunchers was sweetest music to the ear of LewHervey. He glanced at them as much as to say: "You see what I got onmy hands?" Then he stepped forward and cleared his throat. "You're young, kid, " he declared. "When you grow up you'll knowbetter'n to talk like this. But cowpunchers we ain't going to make notrouble for you. But I'll tell you short, Perris, you'll go out andrope that hoss or else roll your blankets and clear out. Understand?I was joking when I asked you to rope the hoss first. I wanted to seewhat sort were. Well, I see, and I don't like what I see. " "Hervey, " began Perris, trembling with his passion "Hervey--" "Wait a minute, " said the foreman, "I know your kind. You sign yourname with bullets. You pay your way with lead. You bully a crowd byfingering a gun-butt. Well, son, that sort of thing don't go in theValley of the Eagles. Lay a hand on that gun and I'll have the boystie you in knots and roll you in a barrel of tar we got handy. Perris, get that hoss for me, or get out!" Red Perris sat down on the edge of his bunk. He made no movetowards his revolver. Indeed, it lay almost arm's length away. Almost--everyone noted that. He crossed his legs and his glancewandered slowly up and down the line of grim faces. "Partner, " he said softly to Hervey, "I'm not going to get the hossand I'm not going to get out. The next move is up to you. Is it tar?" For a moment Hervey was dazed. No one could have foreseen suchdaredeviltry as this. At the same time, he was badly cornered. If hismen rushed Red Perris, Red Perris would get his gun. And if Red Perrisgot his gun the first shot would be for Hervey. "Hold on, boys, " he called suddenly, above the angry curses of hismen, "I'm not going to risk one of you in getting this fool. MissJordan hired him. She can fire him if I can't. Which we'll find outpronto. Slim, go get her, will you?" Slim jumped through the door. They heard his footsteps fade away at arun. And then, after an interval of steady silence, his voice beganin the distance, replying to sharp, hurried inquiries of Marianne. Inanother moment Marianne was in the bunkhouse. Her glance shot fromHervey to Perris and back again. "I knew you'd be up to something like this!" she cried. "I knew it, Lew Hervey!" Hervey made a gesture of surrender. "Ask the boys, " he pleaded. "Ask them if I didn't try to go easy withhim. But he's all teeth. He wants to bite. And we ain't going to putup with that sort of a gent here, I guess! I've ordered him off theranch. Does that go with you?" "Oh, Jim Perris, " cried the girl. "_Why_ have you let this happen!" "I'm sure sorry, " said Perris. He disdained further explanation. "But, " said Marianne, "I've got to have that terrible stallion killed. And who can do it but Jim Perris, Mr. Hervey?" "Gimme time, " said Lew, "and I'll do it. " She stamped her foot in anger. "How you wheedled the authority out of my father, I don't know, " shesaid. "But you have it and you can discharge him if you want. Buthe'll hear another side to this when he returns, Mr. Hervey, I promiseyou that!" She whirled on Red Jim. "Mr. Perris, if Mr. Hervey allowsyou to stay, will you remain for--a week, say, and try to get rid ofAlcatraz for me? Mr. Hervey, will you let me have Mr. Perris for oneweek?" There was more angry demand than appeal in her voice, but Hervey knewhe must give way. After all, the way to carry this thing throughwas to use the high hand as little as possible. Oliver Jordan wouldcertainly wait a week before he returned. "I sure want to be reasonable, Miss Jordan, " he said. "I'm only actingin your father's interests. Of course he can stay for a week. " She whirled away from him with a glance of angry suspicion whichsoftened instantly as she faced Red Jim. "You _will_ stay?" she pleaded. Sullen pride drew Jim one way; the bright, eager eyes drew himanother. "As long as you want, " he said gravely. CHAPTER XV THE KING If men may to some degree be classed in categories of bird andbeast, one like the eagle, another like the bear, some swinish, someelephantine, some boldly leonine, unquestionably Red Perris must belikened to the cat tribe. To some the comparison would have seemedmost opportune, having seen him in restless action; but the same ideamight have come to one who saw him lying prone on a certain hilltop inthe western foothills of the Eagle mountains, unmoving hour by hour, his rifle shoved out before him among the dead grasses, his chinresting on the back of his folded hands, and always his attentive eyesroved from point to point over the landscape below him. A cat liespassive in this manner half a day, watching the gopher hole. It was not the first or the second time he had spent the afternoon inthis place. For nearly a week he had given the better part of everyday to the vigil on this hilltop. All this for very good reasons. During ten days after his first coming to the ranch he tried theordinary methods of hunting down wild horses, and with a carefullyposted string of half a dozen horses, he twice attempted to run downthe outlaw, but he had never come within more than the most distantand hazardous rifle range. To be sure he had fired some dozen shotsduring the pursuits but they had been random efforts at times when thered chestnut was flashing off in the distance, fairly walking awayfrom the best mounts the hunter could procure. Having logicallydetermined that it was not in the power of horse flesh burdenedwith the weight of a rider to come within striking distance of thestallion, Red Jim Perris passed from action to quiescence. If he couldnot outrun Alcatraz he would outwait him. First he studied the habits of the new king of the Eagle Mountains, day by day following the trail. It was not hard to distinguish afterhe had once measured the mighty stride of Alcatraz in full gallop andhe came to know to a hair's breath the distances which the chestnutstepped when he walked or trotted or loped or galloped or ran. Morethan that, he could tell by the print of the four hoofs, all ofthe same size, the same roundness--token so dear to the heart of ahorseman! By such signs he identified old and new trails until hecould guess the future by the past, until he could begin to read thecharacter of the stallion. He knew, for instance, the insatiablecuriosity with which the chestnut studied his wilderness and itsinhabitants. He had seen the trail looping around the spot where therattler's length had been coiled in the sand, or where a tentativehoof had opened the squirrel's hole. On a night of brilliantmoonshine, he had watched through his glass while Alcatraz gallopedmadly, tossing head and tail, and neighing at a low-swooping owl. Great, foolish impulses came to Alcatraz; he might gather his maresabout him and lead them for ten miles at a terrific pace and with ablind destination; he might leave them and scout far and wide, alone, always at dizzy speed. As the hunter stayed longer by his puzzlingtask, he began to wonder if this sprang from mere running instinct, orknowledge that he must keep himself in the pink of condition. Likea man, the preferences of Alcatraz were distinctly formed and wellexpressed. He disliked the middle day and during this period sought acombination of wind and shade. Only in the morning and in the eveninghe ranged for pasture or for pleasure. Impulse still guided him. Nowand again he wandered to the eastern or the western mountains, thenfar into the hot heart of the desert, then, with incredible boldness, he doubled back to the well-watered lands of the Jordan ranch, leapeda fence, followed by the mares to whom he had taught the art ofjumping, and fed fat under the very eye of his enemies. The boldness of these proceedings taught Perris what he already knew, that the stallion knew man and hated as much as he dreaded his formermasters. These excursions were temptings of Providence, gamesof hazard. Perris, gambler by instinct himself, understood andappreciated, at the same time that his anger at being so constantlyoutwitted, outdistanced, grew hot. Then there remained no kindness, only desire to make the kill. His dreams had come to turn on onepicture--Alcatraz cantering in range of the waiting rifle! That dream haunted even his walking moments as he lay here on thehilltop, wondering if he had not been mistaken in selecting this placeof all the range. Yet he had chosen it with care as one of the pointsof passage for Alcatraz during the stallion's wanderings to the fourquarters of his domains and though since he took up his stationhere an imp of the perverse kept the stallion far away, the watcherremained on guard, baked and scorched by the midday sun, constantlysurveying the lower hills nearby or sweeping more distant reaches withhis glass. This day he felt the long vigil to be definitely a failure, for the sun was behind the western summits and the time of deepeningshadows most unfavorable to marksmanship had come. He swung the glassfor the last time to the south; it caught the glint of some movingcreature. He focused his attention, but the object disappeared. A full fiveminutes passed before it came out of the intervening valley but then, bursting over the hilltop, it swept enormous into the power of theglass--Alcatraz, and at full gallop! There was no shadow of a doubt, for though it was the first time hehad been able to watch the stallion at close hand he recognized thelong and effortless swing of that gallop. Next he remembered thosestories of the charmed life and the tales he had mocked at before nowbecame possible truths. He caught up his gun to make sure, but whenhis left hand slipped under the barrel to the balance and the butt ofthe gun pulled into the hollow of his shoulder, he became of rocklikesteadiness. Swinging the gun to the left he caught Alcatraz full inthe readly circle of the sights and over his set teeth the lips curledin a smile; the trail had ended! The slightest movement of his fingerwould beckon the life out of that marauder, but as one who tastes thewine slowly, inhales its bouquet, places the vintage, even so RedPerris delayed to taste the fruition of his work. Pivoted on hisleft elbow, he swung the rifle with frictionless ease and kept thegalloping stallion steadily in the center of the sight. He smiled grimly now at those fables of the charmed life and drewa bead just over the heart. The chestnut was very near. Along theglorious slope of his shoulder Perris saw the long muscles playingwith every stride, and what strides they were! He floated rather thangalloped; his hoofs barely flicked the ground, and it seemed to JimPerris a shameful thing to smash that mechanism. He did not lovehorses; he was raised in a land where they were too strictly articlesof use. But even as a machine he saw in Alcatraz perfection. Not the body, then. He would drive the bullet home into the brain, thecunning brain which had conceived and executed all the mischief thechestnut had worked. Along the shining neck, so imperiously arched, Perris swung the sights and rested his head, at last, just below theears with the forelock blown back between them by the wind of running. Slowly his finger closed on the trigger. It seemed that in the silenceAlcatraz had found a signal of danger for now he swung that imperioushead about and looked full at Red Perris. By his own act he hadchanged the aim of the hunter to a yet more fatal target--theforehead. The heart of Perris leaped even as it had stirred, more than once, when he had looked into the eyes of fighting men. Here was an equalpride, an equal fierceness looking forth at him. Then he rememberedthe six mares somewhere at the center of the guarding circle whichAlcatraz now drew. What a dauntless courage was here in the brute mindwhich, knowing the power of man, dared to rob him, to defy him! Trulythis was the king of horses meant for higher ends than to serve astarget of a Winchester. Ay, he could make his owner a king among men. Mounted on the back of the chestnut no enemy could overtake him; fromthat winged speed none could escape. The back of Alcatraz might be athrone! He could end all that boundless strength by one pressure ofhis finger but was that indeed a true conquest? It was calling to hisaid a trick, it was using an unfair advantage, it seemed to Perris;but suppose that he, the rider who had never yet failed in the saddle, were to sit on the stallion--there would be a battle for the Gods towitness! It was madness, sheer madness; it was throwing away the labor of thepatient days of waiting and working; but to Perris it seemed the onlything to do. He leaped to his feet and brandished the gleaming rifle. "Go it, boy!" he shouted. "We'll meet again!" One snort from Alcatraz--then he changed to a red streak flashing downthe hollow. Before the stallion was out of sight, a cry rang down the wind. Itwas chopped off by the crack of a rifle, and Lew Hervey spurred frombehind a neighboring hill and plunged after Alcatraz pumping shot onshot at the fugitive. In a frenzy Perris jerked his own gun to theshoulder and drew down on the pursuer, but the red anger cleared fromhis mind as he caught the burly shoulders of Hervey in the sights. Helowered the rifle with a grim feeling that he had never before been soclose to a murder. A moment later he began to chuckle behind his set teeth. No wonderthey credited the chestnut with a charmed life. As he raced awaygaining a yard at every leap, he swerved like a jackrabbit from sideto side. Perhaps the deadly hum of bullets on many another chase hadtaught him this trick of dodging, but beyond all doubt when Herveyreturned to the ranch that night he would have a tale of mystery. Topreserve his self-respect as a good marksman, what else could he do? In the meantime pursued and pursuer scurried out of sight beyond ahill; the gun barked far away and the echoes murmured lightly from thehollows. Then Perris turned his back and trudged homewards. CHAPTER XVI RED PERRIS: ADVOCATE He did not choose to live in the ranch because of Hervey and becauseit was too far removed from the scene of action. Instead, he selecteda shack stumbling with age on the west slope of the Eagle Mountains. From his door many a time, with his glass, he picked out the shiningform of Alcatraz and the mares in the distance; he had even been ableto follow the maneuvers of the outlaw on several occasions when Herveyand his men pursued with relays of horses, and on the whole he feltthat the site was such a position as a good general must prefer, beingbehind the lines but with a view which enabled him to survey the wholeaction. His quarters consisted of a single room while a shed leanedagainst the back wall with one space for a horse, the other portion ofthe shed being used as a mow for hay and grain. It was the beginning of the long, still time of the mountain twilightwhen Red Perris climbed to the clearing in which the cabin stood. Ordinarily he would have set about preparing supper before the comingof the dark, but now he watered and saddled his cowpony, a durablelittle buckskin, and with a touch of the spurs sent him at a pitchinggallop down the slope. It was not a kindly thing to do but Red Perris was not a kindly manwith horses and though he knew that it is hard on the shoulders ofeven a mustang to be ridden downhill rapidly, he kept on with unabatedspeed until he broke onto the well-established trail which led to theJordan house. Then a second touch of the spurs brought the pony closeto a full gallop. In fact, Perris was riding against time, for heguessed that Lew Hervey, after quitting the trail of Alcatraz, wouldveer straight towards the home place and there lay before Mariannean account of how the chosen hunter had allowed the stallion to slipthrough his hands. This, together with the fact that his week was upwas enough to bring about his discharge, for he had seen sufficient ofthe girl to guess her fiery temper and he knew that she must have beenharshly tried during the last weeks by his lack of success and by thecontinual sneers and mockery which the foreman and his followers haddirected at the imported horse-catcher. Before sunset of that day hewould have welcomed his discharge; now it loomed before him as thegreatest of all possible catastrophes. Soon he was swinging down an easy road with the tilled lands on oneside, the pastures and broad ranges on the other, and even in the dimlight he guessed the wealth which the estate was capable of producing. Even the deliberate mismanagement of Hervey was barely able to createa deficit and Perris grew hot when he thought of the foreman. His owndislikes found swift expression and were as swiftly forgotten; thata grown ranchman could nourish resentment towards a girl, and thatbecause she was attempting to take charge of her own property, waswell beyond his comprehension. For he had that quality which is commonto all born leaders: he understood in what good and faithful serviceshould consist; with this addition, that he was far more fitted tocommand than to be commanded. It may be seen that there was a background of gloomy thought in hismind, yet from time to time he startled the mustang to a harderpace by a ringing burst of song. Remembering the windlike gallop ofAlcatraz, it seemed to him that the buckskin was hardly keeping to alope--as a matter of fact the cow pony was being ridden to the vergeof exhaustion. So the songs of Perris kept the rhythm of the departedhoofs of wild Alcatraz and the shining form of the stallion waveredand danced in his mind. The ranch building grew out of the dun evening and he smiled at thesight. The bank roll of Marianne had not been thick enough to enableher to do the reconstruction she desired, but at least she had beenable to hire a corps of painters, so that the drab, weathered framestructures had been lifted into crimson and green roofs, white yellow, and flaming orange walls. "A little color is a dangerous thing, "Marianne had said, somewhat overwisely, "but a great deal of it ispretty certain to be pleasing. " So she had let her fancy run amuck, soto speak, and behind the merciful screen of trees there was now whatLew Hervey profanely termed: "A whole damn rainbow gone plumb crazy. "Even Marianne at times had her doubts, but from a distance and by dintof squinting, she was usually able to reduce the conglomerate to atolerably harmonious whole. "It's a promise of changes to come, " shetold herself. "It's a milestone pointing towards new goals. " But themilestone set Perris chuckling. Yonder a scarlet roof burned throughthe shadows above moonwhite walls--that was a winter-shed for cows. Straight before him were the hot orange sides of the house itself. Hedismounted at the arched entrance and walked into the patio. The first thing that Perris heard was the most provocative andsneering tone of the foreman, and cursing the slowness of thebuckskin, he realized that he had been beaten to his goal. He pausedin the shadow of the arch to take stock of his position. The squatarcade of 'dobe surrounding the patio was lighted vaguely by a singlelantern at his left. It barely served to make the shadowy outlines ofthe house visible, the heavy arches, roughly sketched doorways, andhinted at the forms of the cowpunchers who were ranged under the fararcade for their after-dinner smoke, all eagerly listening to thedialogue between the mistress and the foreman. When a breath of windmade the flame jump in the lantern chimney a row of grinning facesstood out from the shadow. Marianne sat in a deep chair which made her appear girlishly slight. The glow of the reading lamp on the table beside her fell on her hair, cast a highlight on her cheek, and showed her hand lying on the openbook in her lap, palm up. There was something about that hand whichspoke to Perris of helpless surrender, something more in the gloomyeyes which looked up to the foreman where he leaned against a pillar. The voice drawled calmly to an end: "And that's what he is, this gentyou got to finish what me and the rest started. Here he is to tell youthat I've spoke the truth. " With the uncanny Western keenness of vision, Hervey had caught sightof the approaching Perris from the corner of his eye. He turned nowand welcomed the hunter with a wave of his hand. Marianne drew herselfup with her hands clasped together in her lap and though in this newattitude her face was in complete shadow, Perris felt her eyesburning out at him. His dismissal was at hand, he knew, and then thecarelessly defiant speech which was forming in his throat died away. Sick at heart, he realized that he must cringe under the hand whichwas about to strike and be humble under the very eye of Hervey. He wasno longer free and the chain which held him was the conviction thathe could never be happy until he had met and conquered wild Alcatraz, that he was as incomplete as a holster without a gun or a saddlewithout stirrups until the speed and the great heart of the stallionwere his to control and command. "I've heard everything from Lew Hervey, " said the girl, in that lowstrained voice which a woman uses when her self-control is barely asgreat as her anger, "and I suppose I don't need to say that afterthese days of waiting, Mr. Perris, I'm disappointed. I shall need youno longer. You are free to go without giving notice. The experimenthas been--unfortunate. " He felt that she had searched as carefully as her passion permitted tofind a word that would sting him. The hot retort leaped to his lipsbut he closed his teeth tight over it. A vision of Alcatraz with thewind in tail and mane galloped back across his memory and staringbitterly down at the girl he reflected that it was she who had broughthim face to face with the temptation of the outlaw horse. Then he found that he was saying stupidly: "I'm sure sorry, MissJordan. But I guess being sorry don't help much. " "None at all. And--we won't talk any longer about it, if you please. The thing is done; another failure. Mr. Hervey will give you your pay. You can do the rest of your talking to him. " She lowered her head; she opened the book; she adjusted it carefullyto the light streaming over her shoulder; she even summoned a faintsmile of interest as though her thoughts were a thousand miles fromthis petty annoyance and back in the theme of the story. Perris, blindwith rage, barely saw the details, barely heard the many-throatedchuckle from the watchers across the patio. Never in his life hadhe so hungered to answer scorn with scorn but his hands were tied. Alcatraz he must have as truly as a starved man must have food; and towin Alcatraz he must live on the Jordan ranch. He could not speak, oreven think, for that maddening laughter was growing behind him; thenhe saw the hand of Marianne, as she turned a page, tremble slightly. At that his voice came to him. "Lady, I can't talk to Hervey. " She answered without looking up, and he hated her for it. "Are you ashamed to face him?" "I'm afraid to face him. " That, indeed, brought her head up and let him see all of her ragetranslated into cruel scorn. "Really afraid? I don't suppose I should be surprised. " He accepted that badgering as martyrs accept the anguish of fire. "I'm afraid that if I turn around and see him, Miss Jordan, I ain'tgoing to stop at words. " The foreman acted before she could speak. The laughter across thepatio had stopped at Perris' speech; plainly Hervey must not remainquiescent. He dropped his big hand on the shoulder of Perris. "Look here, bucco, " he growled, "You're tolerable much of a kid to useman-sized talk. Turn around. " He even drew Perris slightly towards him, but the latter persistedfacing the girl even though his words were for the foreman. She wasgrowing truly frightened. "Tell Hervey to take his hand off me, " said the horse-breaker. "He'sold enough to know better!" If his words needed amplification it could be found in the wolfishmalevolence of his lean face or in the tremor which shook him; thethin space of a thought divided him from action. Marianne sprang fromher chair. She knew enough of Hervey to understand that he could notswallow this insult in the presence of his cowpunchers. She knew alsoby the sudden compression of his lips and the white line about themthat her foreman felt himself to be no match for this tigerishfighter. She thrust between them. Even in her excitement she noticedthat Hervey's hand came readily from the shoulder of Perris. The olderman stepped back with his hand on his gun, but in a burst of pityingcomprehension she knew that it was the courage of hopelessness. Sheswung about on Perris, all her control gone, and the bitterness of athousand aggravations and all her failures on the ranch poured out inwords. "I know your kind and despise it. You practice with your guns gettingready for your murders which you call fair fights. Fair fights! Aswell race a thoroughbred against a cowpony! You wrong a man and thenbully him. That's Western fair play! But I swear to you, Mr. Perris, that if you so much as touch your weapon I'll have my men run you downand whip you out of the mountains!" Her outbreak gave him, singularly, a more even poise. There was nevera fighter who was not a nervous man; there was never a fighter who ina crisis was not suddenly calm. "Lady, " he answered, "you think you know the West, but you don't. Ifme and Hervey fell out there wouldn't be a man yonder across the patiothat'd lift a hand till the fight was done. That ain't the Westernway. " He had spoken much more than he was assured of. He had even sensed, behind him, the rising of the cowpunchers as the girl talked but atthis appeal to their spirit of fair-play they settled down again. He went on, speaking so that every man in the patio could hear: "IfI won, they might tackle me one by one and we'd have it out till abetter man beat me fair and square. But mobs don't jump one man, lady--not around these parts unless he's stole a hoss!" "I don't ask no help, " said Lew Hervey, but his voice was husky anduneven. "I'll stand my ground with any man, gun-fighter or not!" "Please be quiet and let me handle this affair, " said the girl. "Asa matter of fact, it's ended. If you won't take the money from Mr. Hervey, I'll pay it to you myself. How much?" "Nothing, " said Red Perris. "Are you going to give me an example of wounded virtue?" criedMarianne, white with contempt. He was as pale as she, and taking off his hat he began to dent andre-dent its four sides. The girl, looking at that red shock of hairand the lowered eyes, guessed for the first time that he was sufferingan agony of humiliation. Half of her anger instantly vanished andremembering her passion of the moment before, she began to wonder whatshe had said. In the meantime, shrugging his shoulders with a forcedindifference, Hervey crossed the patio and she was aware that he wasreceived in silence--no murmurs of congratulation for the manner inwhich he had borne himself during the interview. "I got to ask you to gimme about two minutes of listening, MissJordan. Will you do it?" "At least I won't stop you. Say what you please, Mr. Perris. " She wished heartily that she could have spoken with a little show ofrelenting but she had committed herself to coldness. In her soul ofsouls she wanted to bid him take a chair and tell her frankly allabout it, assure him that after a moment of blind anger she had neverdoubted his straightforward desire to serve her. He began to speak. "It's this way. I come out here to shoot a hoss, and I've workedtolerable hard to get in rifle range. I guess Hervey has been sayingthat I've got into shooting distance a dozen times but it ain't true. He happened to be sneaking about to-day, and he saw Alcatraz comeclose by me for the first time. " He paused. "I'll give you my word on that. " "You don't need to" said the girl, impetuously. His eyes flashed up at her, at that, and he stood suddenly straight asthough she had given him the right to stop cringing and talk like aman. What on earth, she wondered, could have forced the man to suchhumility? It made her shrink as one might on seeing an eagle cowerbefore a wren. As for Perris, his resentment was in no wise abated byher friendliness. She had given him some moments of torture and thememory of that abasement would haunt him many a day. He mutely vowedthat she should pay for it, and went on: "I sure wanted to sing when Icaught Alcatraz in the sights. I pulled a bead on him just behind theshoulder but I could see the muscles along his shoulders working andit was a pretty sight, Miss Jordan. " She nodded, frowning in the intentness with which she followed him. She had thought of him as one with the careless, mischievous soul ofa child but now, in quick, deep glances, she reached to profounderthings. "I held the bead, " he kept repeating, his glance going blankly pasther as he struggled to find words for the strange experience, "butthen I saw his ribs going in and out. He was big where the cincheswould run, you see, and I began to understand where he got that windof his that never gives out. Besides, I somehow got to thinking abouthis heart under the ribs, lady, and I figured it kind of low to stopall the life in him with a bullet. So I swung my bead up along hisneck--he's got a long neck and that means a long stride--till I cameplump on his head, and just then he swung his head and gave me alook. " He breathed deeply, and then: "It was like jumping into cold water allof a sudden. I felt hollow inside. And then all at once I knew they'dnever been a hoss like him in the mountains. I knew he was an outlaw. I knew he was plumb bad. But I knew he was a king, lady, and Icouldn't no more shoot him that I could lie behind a bush and shoot aman. " He was suddenly on fire. "Looked to me like he was my hoss. Like he'd been planned for me. I wanted him terrible bad, the way you want things when you're akid--the way you want Christmas the day before, when it don't seemlike you could wait for tomorrow. " "But--he's a man-killer, Mr. Perris. I've seen it!" His hand went out to her and she listened in utter amazement while hepleaded with all his heart in his voice. "Lemme have a chance to make him my hoss, murders or not! Lemme stayhere on the ranch and work, because they's no other good place forhunting him. I know you want them mares, but some day I'll get my ropeon him and then I swear I'll break him or he'll break me. I'll breakhim, ride him to death, or he'll pitch me off and finish me liked hefinished Cordova. But I know I can handle him. I sure feel it insideof me, lady! Pay? I don't want pay! I'll work for nothing. If I had astake, I'd give it to you for a chance to keep on trying for him. Iknow I'm asking a pile. You want the mares and you can get them theminute Alcatraz is dropped with a bullet, --but I tell you straight, he's worth all of 'em--all six and more!" A light came over his face. "Miss Jordan, lemme stay on and try myluck and if I get him and break him, I'll turn him over to you. And Itell you: he's the wind on four feet. " "You'll do all this and then give him to me when he's gentled andbroken--if that can be done? Then why do you want him?" "I want to show him that he's got a master. He's played with me andplumb fooled me all these weeks. I want to get on him and show himhe's beat. " His fierce joy in the thought was contagious. "I want tomake him turn when I pull on the reins. I'll have him start when Iwant to start and stop when I want to stop. I'll make him glad when Italk soft to him and shake when I talk hard. He's made a fool of me;I'll make a fool and a show of him. Lady, will you say yes?" He had swept her off her feet and with a mind full of a riot ofimaginings--the frantic stallion, the clinging rider, the struggle forsuperiority--she breathed: "Yes, yes! A thousand times yes--and goodluck, Mr. Perris. " He tossed his arms above his head and cried out joyously. "Lady, it's more'n ten years of life to me!" "But wait!" she said, suddenly aware of Hervey, lingering in thebackground. "I haven't the power to let you stay. It's Mr. Hervey whohas authority while my father is away. " The lips of Red Jim twitched to a sneering malevolence mingled withgloom. "It's up to him?" he echoed. "Then I might of spared myself all ofthis talk. " It would all be over in a moment. The foreman would utter the refusal. Red Perris would be in his saddle and bound towards the mountains. And that thought gave Marianne sudden insight into the fact that theValley of the Eagles would be a drear, lonely place without Red Jim. "You don't know Mr. Hervey, " she broke in before the foreman couldspeak for himself. "He'll bear no malice to you. He's forgotten thatsquabble over--" "Sure I have, " said Lew Hervey. "I've forgotten ten all about it. But the way I figure, Miss Jordan, is that Perris is like a chunk ofdynamite on the ranch. Any day one of the boys may run into him andthere'll be a killing. They're red-hot against him. They might startfor him in a gang one of these days, for all I know. For his own sake, Perris had better leave the Valley. " He had advanced his argument cunningly enough and by the wayMarianne's eyes grew large and her color changed, he knew that he hadmade his point. "Would they do that?" she gasped. "Have we such men?" "I dunno, " said Lew. "He sure rode 'em hard that morning. " "Then go, " cried Marianne, turning eagerly to Red Jim. "For heaven'ssake, go at once! Forget Alcatraz--forget the mares--but start atonce, Mr. Perris!" Even a blind man might have guessed many things from the tremor ofher voice. Lew Hervey saw enough to make his eyes contract to thebrightness of a ferret's as he glanced from the girl to handsome JimPerris. But the red-headed adventurer was quite blind, quite deaf. No matter how the thing had been done, he knew that the girl and theforeman were now both combined to drive him from the ranch, fromAlcatraz. For a moment of blind anger he wanted to crush, kill, destroy. Then he turned on his heel and strode towards the arch whichled into the patio. "Mind you!" called Lew Hervey in warning. "It's on your own head, Perris. If you don't leave, I'll throw you off!" Red Jim flashed about under the shade of the arch. "Come get me, and be damned, " he said. And then he was gone. The cowpunchers, furious at this open defianceof them all, boiled out into the patio, growling. "You see?" said Hervey to the girl. "He won't be satisfied tillthere's a killing!" "Keep them back!" she pleaded. "Don't let them go, Mr. Hervey. Don'tlet them follow him!" One sharp, short order from Hervey stopped the foremost as they ranfor the entrance. In fact, not one of them was peculiarly keen tofollow such a trail as this in the darkness. Breathless silence fellover the patio, and then they heard the departing beat of the hoofs ofRed's horse. And the shock of every footfall struck home in the heartof Marianne and filled her with a great loneliness and terror. Andthen the noise of the gallop died away in the far-off night. CHAPTER XVII INVISIBLE DANGER Alcatraz, cresting the hill, warned the mares with a snort. One by onethe bays brought up their beautiful heads to attention but the grey, as was her custom in moments of crisis or indecision, trotted forwardto the side of the leader and glanced over the rolling lands below. Her decision was instant and decisive. She shook her head and turningto the side, she started down the left slope at a trot. Alcatrazcalled her back with another snort. He knew, as well as she did, themeaning of that faint odor on the east wind: it was man, unmistakablythe great enemy; but during five days that scent had hung steadilyhere and yet, over all the miles which he could survey there was nosign of a man nor any places where man could be concealed. There wasnot a tree; there was not a fallen log; there was not a stump; therewas not a rock of such respectable dimensions that even a rabbit woulddare to seek shelter behind it. Still, mysteriously, the scent of manwas there. Alcatraz stamped with impatience and when the grey whinnied he merelyshook his head angrily in answer. It irritated him to have her alwaysright, always cautious, and besides he felt somewhat shamed by thenecessity of using her as a court of last appeal. To be sure, he was akeener judge of the sights and scents of the mountain desert than anyof the half-bred mares but though he lived to fifty years he wouldnever approach the stored wisdom, the uncanny acuteness of eye, ear, and nostril of the wild grey. Her view-point seemed, at times, that ofthe high-sailing buzzards, for she guessed, miles and miles away, whatwater-holes were dry and what "tanks" brimmed with water; what trailswere broken by landslides since they had last been travelled and wherenew trails might be found or made; when it was wise to seek shelterbecause a sand-storm was brewing; where the grass grew thickest andmost succulent on far-off hillsides; and so on and on the treasury ofher knowledge could be delved in inexhaustibly. On only one point did he feel that his cleverness might rival hers andthat point was the most important of all--man the Great Destroyer. Sheknew him only from a distance whereas had not Alcatraz breathed thatdreaded scent close at hand? Had he not on one unforgetable occasionfelt the soft flesh turn to pulp beneath his stamping feet, and heardthe breaking of bones? His nostrils distended at the memory and againhe searched the lowlands. No, there was not a shadow of a place where man might be concealed andthat scent could be nothing but a snare and an illusion. To be surethere were other ways hardly less convenient to the waterhole, but whyshould he be turned from the easiest way day after day because of thisunbodied warning? He started down the slope. It brought the grey after him, neighing wildly, but though she circledaround him at full speed time after time, he would not pause, and whenshe attempted to block him he raised his head and pushed her away withthe resistless urge of breast and shoulders. At that she attempted nomore forceful persuasion but fell in behind him, still pausing fromtime to time to send her mournfully persuasive whinny after theobdurate leader until even the bays, usually so blindly docile, grewalarmed and fell back to a huddled grouping half way between Alcatrazand the trailing grey. It touched his pride sharply, this division oftheir trust. Twice he slackened his lope and called to them to hastenand when they responded with only a faint-hearted trot he was forcedto mask his impatience. Coming to a walk he cropped imaginary grassesfrom time to time and so induced the others to draw nearer. It was slow work going down the hollow in this way, and hot work, too, but though he often glanced up yearningly towards the wooded hillsbeyond, he kept to his pretense of carelessness and so managed to holdthe mares in a close-bunched group behind him. In the meantime thescent grew stronger, closer to the ground on that east wind. Time andagain he raised his head and stared earnestly, but it was impossiblefor any living creature to stalk within hundreds of yards of himwithout being seen--whereas that scent spoke of one almost withinleaping distance. Once it seemed to his excited imagination--as helowered his head to sniff at a tuft of dead grasses--that he heard thesound of human breathing. He snorted the foolish thought into nothingness and after a glanceback to make sure that his companions followed, he resolutely steppedout into the very heart of the man-scent. So closely was that phantomlocated by the sense of smell that it seemed to Alcatraz he could seethe exact spot on the hillside behind a small rock where the ghostmust lie. Yet he disdained to flee from empty air and for all hisbeating heart he raised his head and walked sedately on. The dangerspot was drifting past on his left when a squeal of fear from thewild grey far in the rear made Alcatraz leap sidewise with catlikesuddenness. Growing by magic from the sand behind the little rock the head andshoulders of a man appeared, his shadow pouring down the sun-whitenedslope. In his hand he swung a rapidly lengthening loop of rope and ashis arm went back it knocked off the fellow's hat and exposed a shockof red hair. So much Alcatraz saw while the paralysis of fear lockedevery joint for the tenth part of a second, and deeply as he dreadedthe apparition itself he dreaded more the whipping circle of rope. For had he not seen the dead thing become alive and snakelike in theskilled hand of Manuel Cordova? The freezing terror relaxed; the sandcrunched away under the drive of his rear hoofs as he flung himselfforward--with firm footing to aid he would have slid from beneath theflying danger, but as it was he heard the live rope whisper in the airabove his head. He landed on stiff legs, checked his forward impetus and flungsidewise. On solid footing he would have dodged successfully; as itwas the noose barely clipped past his ear. As the rope touched his neck, it seemed to Alcatraz that every wounddealt him by the hand of man was suddenly aching and bleeding again, the skin along his flanks quivered where the spurs of Cordova haddriven home time and again, and on shoulders and belly and hipsthere were burning stripes where the quirt had raised its wale. Mosthorrible of all, in his mouth came the taste of iron and his own bloodwhere the Spanish bit had wrenched his jaws apart. Out of the old dayshe might have remembered the first and bitterest lesson--that it isfolly to pull against a rope--but now he saw nothing save the fleeingforms of the seven mares and his own freedom vanishing with them. Inhis mid-leap the lariat hummed taut, sank in a burning circle intothe flesh at the base of his neck, and he was flung to the ground. Noman's power could have stopped him so short; the cunning enemy hadturned a half-hitch around the top of that deep-rooted rock. He landed, not inert, but shocked out of hysteria into all his oldcunning--that wily savagery which had kept Cordova in fear, ten-foldmore terrible since the free life had clothed him with his fullstrength. The very impetus of his fall he used to help him whirl tohis feet, and as he rose he knew what he must do. To struggle againstthe tools of man was always madness and brought only pain as a result;like a good general he determined to end the battle by getting at theroot of the enemy's fire, and wheeling on his hind legs he charged RedPerris. The first leap revealed the mystery of the man's appearance. Behindthis rock, which was barely sufficient shelter for his head, he hadexcavated a pit sufficient to shelter his crouching body and the sandwhich he removed for this purpose had been spread evenly over theslope so that no suspicion might be created in the most watchful eye. He had sprung from his concealment and was now working to loosen thehalf-hitch from the rock. As the knot came free Alcatraz was turningand now Perris faced the charge with the rope caught in his hand. Whatcould he do? There was only one thing, and the stallion saw the heavyrevolver bared and levelled at him, a flickering bit of metal. He knewwell what it meant but there was no hope save to rush on; anotherstride and he would be on that frail creature, tearing with his teethand crushing with his hoofs. And then a miracle happened. The revolverwas flung aside, a gleaming arc and a splash of sand where it struck;Red Perris preferred to risk his life rather than end the battlebefore it was well begun with a bullet. He crouched over the ropeas though he had braced himself to meet the shock of the chargingstallion. But that was not his purpose. As the stallion rushed on himhe darted to one side and the fore hoof with which Alcatraz struckmerely slashed his shirt down the back. A feint had saved him, but Alcatraz was no bull to charge blindlytwice. He checked himself so abruptly that he knocked up a showerof sand, and he turned savagely out of that dust-cloud to end thestruggle. Yet this small, mad creature stood his ground, showed noinclination to flee. With the rope he was doing strange things, makingit spin in swift spirals, close to the ground. Let him do what hewould, his days were ended. Alcatraz bared his teeth, laid back hisears, and lunged again. Another miracle! As his forefeet struckthe ground in the midst of one of those wide circles of rope, thered-headed man lunged back, the circle jumped like a living thing andcoiled itself around both forefeet, between fetlock and hoof. When heattempted the next leap his front legs crumbled beneath him. At thevery feet of Red Perris he plunged into the sand. Once more he whirled to regain his lost footing, but as he turned onhis back the rope twisted and whispered above him; the off hind legwas noosed, and then the near one--Alcatraz lay on his side strainingand snorting but utterly helpless. Of a sudden he ceased all struggle. About neck and all four hoofs wasthe burning grip of the rope, so bitterly familiar, and man had onceagain enslaved him. Alcatraz relaxed. Presently there would come aswift volley of curses, then the whir and cut of the whip--no, for agreat occasion such as this the man would choose a large and durableclub and beat him across the ribs. Why not? Even as he had servedCordova this man of the flaming hair would now serve him. He was verylike Cordova in one thing. He did not hurry, but first picked up hisrevolver and replaced it in its holster, having blown the sand fromthe mechanism as well as he could. Then he put on his fallen hat andstood back with his hands dropped on his hips and eyed the captive. For the first time he spoke, and Alcatraz shuddered at the sound of avoice well-nigh as smooth as that of Cordova, with the same well-knownring of fierce exultation. "God A'mighty, God A'mighty! They can't be no hoss like this! Jim, you're dreaming. Rub your fool eyes and wake up!" He began to walk in a circle about his victim, and Alcatraz shudderedwhen the conqueror came behind him. That had been Cordova's way--tocome to a place where he could not be seen and then strike cruelly andby surprise. To his unspeakable astonishment, Perris presently leanedover him--and then deliberately sat down on the shoulder of thechestnut. Two thoughts flashed through the mind of the stallion; hemight heave himself over by a convulsive effort and attempt to crushthis insolent devil; or he might jerk his head around and catch Perriswith his teeth. A third and better thought, however, immediatelyfollowed--that bound as he was he would have little chance to reachthis elusive will-o'-the-wisp. He could not repress a quiver of horrorand anger, but beyond that he did not stir. Other liberties were being taken; Cordova in his maddest moments wouldnot have dared so much. Down the long muscles of his shoulder andupper foreleg went curious and gently prying finger-tips, and wherethey passed a tingling sensation followed, not altogether unpleasant. Again beginning on his neck the hand trailed down beneath his mane andat the same time the voice was murmuring: "Oh beauty! Oh beauty!" The heart of Alcatraz swelled. He had felt his first caress. CHAPTER XVIII VICTORY Not that he recognized it as such but the touch was a pleasure and thequiet voice passed into his mind with a mild and soothing influencethat made the wide freedom of the mountain-desert seem a worthlessthing. The companionship of the mares was a bodiless nothing comparedwith the hope of feeling that hand again, hearing that voice, andknowing that all troubles, all worries were ended for ever. Like thestout Odysseus of many devices Alcatraz scorned the ways of the lotuseaters; for well he knew how Cordova had often lured him to perfecttrust with the magic of man's voice, only to waken him from the dreamof peace with the sting of a blacksnake. This red-headed man, so softof hand, so pleasant of voice, was for those very reasons the more tobe suspected. The chestnut bided his time; presently the torment wouldbegin. The calm voice was proceeding: "Old sport, you and me are going tostage a sure enough scrap right here and now. Speaking personal, I'dlike to take off the rope and go at you man to man with no saddle tohelp me out. But if I did that I wouldn't have a ghost of a show. I'llsaddle you, right enough, but I'll ride you without spurs, and I'llput a straight bit in your mouth--damn the Mexican soul of Cordova, Isee where he's sawed your mouth pretty near in two with his Spanishcontraptions! Without a quirt or spurs or a curb to choke you down, you and me'll put on a square fight, so help me God! Because I think Ican beat you, old hoss. Here goes!" The stallion listened to the soothing murmur, listened and waited, andsure enough he had not long to stay in expectation. For Perris wentto the hole behind the rock and presently returned carrying thatflapping, creaking instrument of torture--a saddle. To all that followed--the blind-folding, the bridling, the jerk whichurged him to his feet, the saddling, --Alcatraz submitted with the mostperfect docility. He understood now that he was to have a chance tofight for his liberty on terms of equality and his confidence grew. Inthe old days that consummate horseman, Manuel Cordova, had onlybeen able to keep his seat by underfeeding Alcatraz to the point ofexhaustion but now, from withers to fetlock joint, the chestnut wasconscious of a mighty harmony of muscles and reserves of energy. Thewiles which he had learned in many a struggle with the Mexican werenot forgotten and the tricks which had so often nearly unseatedthe old master could now be executed with threefold energy. In themeantime he waited quietly, assuming an air of the most perfectmeekness, with the toe of one hind foot pointed so that he saggedwearily on that side, and with his head lowered in all the appearanceof mild subjection. The cinches bit deep into his flesh. He tasted that horror of ironin his mouth, with this great distinction: that whereas the bits ofManuel Cordova had been heavy instruments of torture this was a lightthing, smooth and straight and without the wheel of spikes. The crisiswas coming. He felt the weight of the rider fall on the left stirrup, the reins were gathered, then Perris swung lightly into the saddle andleaning, snatched the blindfold from the eyes of the stallion. One instant Alcatraz waited for the sting of the spurs, the resoundingcrack of the heavy quirt, the voice of the rider raised in curses; butall was silence. The very feel of the man in the saddle was different, not so much in poundage as in a certain exquisite balance which hemaintained but the pause lasted no longer than a second after thewelcome daylight flashed on the eyes of Alcatraz. Fear was a spurto him, fear of the unknown. He would have veritably welcomed thebrutalities of Cordova simply because they were familiar--but thissilent and clinging burden? He flung himself high in the air, snappedup his back, shook himself in mid-leap, and landed with every legstiff. But a violence which would have hurled another man to theground left Perris laughing. And were beasts understood, that laughterwas a shameful mockery! Alcatraz thrust out his head. In vain Perris tugged at the reins. Thelack of curb gave him no pry on the jaw of the chestnut and sheerstrength against strength he was a child on a giant. The strips ofleather burned through his fingers and the first great point of thebattle was decided in favor of the horse: he had the bit in his teeth. It was a vital advantage for, as every one knows who has struggledwith a pitching horse, it cannot buck with abandon while its chin istucked back against its breast; only when the head is stretched outand the nose close to the ground can a bucking horse double back andforth to the full of his agility, twisting and turning and snapping asan "educated" bucker knows how. And Alcatraz knew, none so well! The deep exclamation of dismay fromthe rider was sweetest music to his malicious ears, and, in sheer joyof action, he rushed down the hollow at full speed, bucking "straight"and with never a trick attempted, but when the first ecstasy clearedfrom his brain he found that Perris was still with him, riding lightas a creature of mist rather than a solid mass of bone and muscle--inplace of jerking and straining and wrenching, in place of plying thequirt or clinging with the tearing spurs, he was riding "straight up"and obeying every rule of that unwritten code which prescribes themanner in which a gentleman cowpuncher shall combat with his horse forsuperiority. Again that thrill of terror of the unknown passed throughthe stallion; could this apparently weaponless enemy cling to himin spite of his best efforts? He would see, and that very shortly. Without going through the intermediate stages by which the usualeducated bronco rises to a climax of his efforts, Alcatraz began atonce that most dreaded of all forms of bucking--sun-fishing. Thewooded hills were close now and the ground beneath him was firmunderfoot assuring him full use of all his agility and strength. Hismotion was like that of a breaking comber. First he hurled himselfinto the air, then pitched sharply down and landed on one stiffenedforeleg--the jar being followed by the deadly whiplash snap to theside as he slumped over. Then again driven into the air by the impulseof those powerful hind legs, he landed on the alternate foreleg andsnapped his rider in the opposite direction--a blow on the base of thebrain and another immediately following on the side. Underfed mustangs have killed men by this maneuver, repeated withoutend. Alcatraz was no starveling mongrel, but to the fierceness of awild horse and the tireless durability of a mustang he united thesubtlety which he had gained in his long battle with the Mexican andabove all this, his was the pride of one who had already conqueredman. His fierce assault began to produce results. He saw Red Perris sway drunkenly at every shock; his head seemed toswing on a pivot from side to side under that fearful jolting--hismouth was ajar, his eyes staring, a fearful mask of a face; yet heclung in place. When he was stunned, instinct still kept his feet inthe stirrups and taught him to give lightly to every jar. He foughthard but in time even Red Perris must collapse. But could the attack be sustained indefinitely? Grim as were resultsof sun-fishing on the rider, they were hardly less vitiating for thehorse. The forelegs of Alcatraz began to grow numb below the shoulder;his knees bowed and refused to give the shock its primal snap; to thevery withers he was an increasing ache. He must vary the attack. Assoon as that idea came, he reared and flung himself back to the earth. He heard a sharp exclamation from the rider--he felt the tug as theright foot of Perris hung in the stirrup, then the stunning impact onthe ground. To make sure of his prey he whirled himself to the left, but even so his striking feet did not reach the Great Enemy. Perrishad freed himself in the last fraction of a second and pitchingheadlong from the saddle he rolled over and over in the dirt, safe. That fall opened a new hope to Alcatraz. Had he possessed his fullmeasure of agility he would have gained his feet and rushed the man, but the long struggle had taken the edge from his activity and as helunged up he saw Perris, springing almost on all-fours, animal-like, leap through the air and his weight struck home in the saddle. Quick, now, before the Enemy gained a secure hold, before thatreaching foot attained the other stirrup, before the proper balancewas struck! Up in the air went the chestnut--down on one stiff forelegand with a great swelling of the heart he felt the rider slump far toone side, clinging with one leg from the saddle, one hand wrapped inthe flying mane. Now victory with a last effort! Again he leaped highand again struck stiffly on the opposite foreleg; but alas! thatvery upward bound swung Perris to the erect, and with incredible andcatlike speed he slipped into the saddle. He received the shock withboth feet lodged again in the supporting stirrups. The frenzy of disappointment gave Alcatraz renewed energy. It was notsun-fishing now, but fence-rowing, cross-bucking, flinging himself tothe earth again and again, racing a little distance and stopping onbraced legs, sun-fishing to end the programme. As he fought he watchedresults. It was as though invisible fists were crashing against thehead and body of the unfortunate rider. From nose and ears and gapingmouth the blood trickled; his eyes were blurs of red; his head rolledhideously on his shoulders. Ten times he was saved by a hair's-breadthfrom a fall; ten times he righted himself again and a strange andbubbling voice jerked out defiance to the horse. "Buck--damn you!--go it, you devil--I'll--beat--you still! I'll breakyou--I'll--make you come--when I whistle--I'll make you--a--lady'shoss!"' Consuming terror was in the stallion and the fear that, incredible asit seemed, he was being beaten by a man who did not use man's favoriteweapon--pain. No, not once had the cruel spurs clung in his flanks, orthe quirt whirred and fallen; not once, above all, had his mouth beentorn and his jaw nearly broken by the wrenching of a curb. It camevaguely into the brutes' mind that there was something to be moredreaded than either bit, spur, or whip, and that was the controllingmind which spoke behind the voice of Perris, which was telegraphedagain and again down the taut reins. That fear as much as the labordrained his vigor. His knees buckled now. He could no longer sunfish. He could not evenbuck straight with the bone-breaking energy. He was nearly done, witha tell-tale wheeze in his lungs, with blood pressure making his eyesstart well-nigh from his head, and a bloody froth choking him. RedPerris also was in the last stage of exhaustion--one true pitch wouldhave hurled him limp from his seat--yet, with his body numb from headto toe, he managed to keep his place by using that last and greateststrength of feeble man--power of will. Alcatraz, coming at last to abeaten stop, looked about him for help. There was nothing to aid, nothing save the murmur of the wind in thetrees just before him. Suddenly his ears pricked with new hope and heshut out the weak voice which murmured huskily: "I've got you now. I've got you, Alcatraz. I've all by myself--no whip, --no spur--noleather pulling--I've rode straight up and----" Alcatraz lunged out into a rickety gallop. Only new hope sustained himas he headed straight for the trees. Even the dazed brain of Perris understood. With all his force hewrenched at the bit--it was hopelessly lodged in the teeth of thestallion--and then he groaned in despair and a moment later swayedforward to avoid a bough brushing close overhead. There were other branches ahead. On galloped Alcatraz, headingcunningly beneath the boughs until he was stopped by a shock thatdropped him staggering to his knees. The pommel had struck abranch--and Red Perris was still in place. Once more the chestnut started, reeling heavily in his lope. Thistime, to avoid the coming peril, the rider slipped far to one side andAlcatraz veered swiftly towards a neighboring tree trunk. Too late RedPerris saw the danger and strove to drag himself back into the saddle, but his numbed muscles refused to act and Alcatraz felt the burdentorn from his back, felt a dangling foot tug at the left stirrup--thenhe was free. So utter was his exhaustion that in checking himself he nearly fell, but he turned to look at the mischief he had worked. The man lay on his back with his arms flung out cross-wise. From agash in his forehead the blood streamed across his face. His legs weretwisted oddly together. His eyes were closed. From head to foot thestallion sniffed that limp body, then raised a forehoof to strike;with one blow he could smash the face to a smear of red as he hadsmashed Manuel Cordova the great day long before. The hoof fell, was checked, and wondering at himself Alcatraz foundthat his blow had not struck home. What was it that restrained him?It seemed to the conqueror that he felt again the gentle finger-tipswhich had worked down the muscles of his shoulder and trailed down hisneck. More than that, he heard the smooth murmur of the man's voicelike a kindly ghost beside him. He dreaded Red Perris still, but hatethe fallen rider he could not. Presently a loud rushing of the windamong the branches above made him turn and in a panic he left theforest at a shambling trot. CHAPTER XIX HERVEY TAKES A TRICK The night before, when Perris rode off from the ranchhouse afterdefying Hervey and his men, his hoofbeats had no sooner faded tonothing than the cowpunchers swarmed out from the patio and into theopen; as though they wished to put their heads together and plan thebattle which the command of Hervey, to-night, had postponed. All ofthat was perfectly clear to Marianne. Her call brought Hervey back toher and she led him at once off the veranda and to the living roomwhere she could talk secure of interruption or of being overheard. There he slumped uninvited into the first easy chair and sat twirlinghis sombrero on his finger-tips, obviously well satisfied withhimself and the events of the evening. She herself remained standing, carefully turning her back to the light so that her face might, asmuch as possible, be in shadow. For she knew it was pale and the eyesunnaturally large. Hervey must not see. He must not guess at the torment in her mind andall the self-revelations which had been pouring into her consciousnessduring the past few moments. Greatest of all was one overshadowingfact: she loved Red Jim Perris! What did it matter that she had seenhim so few times, and spoke to him so few words? A word might be athunderclap; a glance might carry into the very soul of a man. Andindeed she felt that she had seen that proud, gay, impatient soul inJim. What he thought of her was another matter. That he found a barbetween them was plain. But on the night of his first arrival at theranch, when she sang to him, had she not felt him, once, twice andagain, leaning towards her, into her life. And if they met once more, might he not come all the way? But no matter. The thing now was to useall her cunning of mind, all her strength of body, to save him fromimminent danger; and the satisfied glint of Hervey's eye convincedher that the danger was imminent indeed. Why he should hate Jimso bitterly was not clear; that he did so hate the stranger wasself-evident. The more she studied her foreman the more her terrorgrew, the more her lonely sense of weakness increased. "Mr. Hervey, " she said suddenly. "What's to be done?" Her heart fell. He had avoided her eyes. "I dunno, " said Hervey. "You seen to-night that I treated him plumbwhite. I put my cards on the table. I warned him fair and square. Andthat after I'd given him a week's grace. A gent couldn't do any morethan that, I guess!" He was right, in a way. At least, the whole populace of the mountainswould agree that he had given Red Jim every chance to leave the ranchpeaceably. And if he would not go peaceably, who could raise a fingeragainst Hervey for throwing the man off by force? "But something more _has_ to be done, " she said eagerly. "It _has_ tobe done!" Hervey frowned at her. "Look here, " he said, in a more dictatorial manner than he had everused before. "Why you so interested in this Perris?" She hesitated, but only for an instant. What did such a thing as shamematter when the life of Perris might be saved by a confession? Andcertainly Hervey would not dare to proceed against Perris if she madesuch a confession. "I'm interested, " she said steadily, "because he--he means more to methan any other man in the world. " She saw the head of the foreman jerk back as though he had received ablow in the face. "More'n your father?" "In a different way--yes, more than Dad!" Hervey rose and stretched an accusing arm towards her. "You're in love with Red Perris!" And she answered him fiercely: "Yes, yes, yes! In love with RedPerris! Go tell every one of your men. Shame me as far as you wish!But--Mr. Hervey, you won't dare lead a gang against him now!" He drew back from her, thrust away by her half-hysteria of emotion. "Won't I?" growled Hervey, regarding her from beneath sternly gatheredbrows. "I seen something of this to-night. I guessed it all. Won't Ilay a hand on a sneaking hound that comes grinning and talking softand saying things he don't half mean? Why, it's a better reason forthrowing him off the ranch than I ever had before, seems to me!" "You don't mean that!" she breathed. "Say you don't mean that!" "Your Dad ain't here. If he was, he'd say the same as me. I got toact in his place. You think you like Perris. Why, you'd be throwingyourself away. You'd break Oliver Jordan's heart. That's what you'ddo!" Her brain was whirling. She grasped at the first thought that came toher. "Then wait till he comes back before you touch Jim Perris. " "And let Perris raise the devil in the meantime?" He laughed in her face. "At least, " she cried, her voice shrill with anger and fear, "let meknow where he is. Let me send for him myself. " "Dunno that I'm exactly sure about where he is myself, " fenced LewHervey. "Ah, " moaned the girl, half-breaking down under the strain. "Why doyou hate me so? What have I done to you?" "Nothing, " said Hervey grimly. "Made me the laughing stock of themountains--that's all. Made me a joke--that's all you've done to me. 'Lew Hervey and his boss--the girl. ' That's what they been sayingabout me. But I ain't been taking that to heart. What I'm doing now isfor your own good, only you don't know it! You'll see it later on. " "Mr. Hervey, " she pleaded, "if it will change you, I'll give you myoath to stop bothering with the management of the ranch. You can runit your own way. I'll leave if you say the word, but----" "I know, " said Hervey. "I know what you'd say. But Lord above, MissJordan, I ain't doing this for my own sake. I'm doing it for yoursand your father's. He'll thank me if you don't! Far as Perris goes, I'd----" He halted. She had sunk into a chair--collapsed into it, rather, andlay there half fainting with one arm thrown across her face. Herveyglowered down on her a moment and then turned on his heel and left thehouse. He went straight to the bunkhouse, gathered the men about him, andtold them the news. "Boys, " he said, "the cat's out of the bag. I've found out everything, and it's what I been fearing. She started begging me to keep off RedJim's trail. Wouldn't hear no reason. I told her there wasn't nothingfor me to gain by throwing him off the ranch. Except that he'd beenordered off and he had to go. It'd make a joke of me and all of youboys if the word got around that one gent had laughed at us and stayedright in the Valley when we told him to get out. " A fierce volley of curses bore him out. "Well, " said Hervey, "then she come right out and told me the truth:she's in love with Perris. She told me so herself!" They gaped at him. They were young enough, most of them, and lonelyand romantic enough, to have looked on Marianne with a sort of sadlonging which their sense of humor kept from being anything moreaspiring. But to think that she had given her heart so suddenly andso freely to this stranger was a shock. Hervey reaped the harvest oftheir alarmed glances with a vast inward content. Every look he metwas an incipient gun levelled at the head of Red Jim. "Didn't make no bones about it, " he said, "she plumb begged for him. Well, boys, she ain't going to get him. I think too much of old manJordan to let his girl run off with a man-killing vagabond like thisPerris. He's good looking and he talks dead easy. That's what's turnedthe trick. I guess the rest of you would back me up?" The answer was a growl. "I'll go bust his neck, " said Little Joe furiously. "One of themheart-breakers, I figure. " "First thing, " said the foreman, "is to see that she don't get to him. If she does, she'll sure run off with him. But she's easy kept fromthat. Joe, you and Shorty watch the hoss corrals to-night, will you?And don't let her get through to a hoss by talking soft to you. " They vowed that they would be adamant. They vowed it with many oaths. In fact, the rage of the cowpunchers was steadily growing. Red Perriswas more than a mere insolent interloper who had dared to scoff at thebanded powers of the Valley of the Eagles. He was far worse. He wasthe most despicable sort of sneak and thief for he was trying tosteal the heart and ruin the life of a girl. They had looked uponthe approaching conflict with Perris as a bitter pill that must beswallowed for the sake of the Valley of the Eagles outfit. They lookedupon it, from this moment, as a religious duty from which no one withthe name of a man dared to shrink. Little Joe and Shorty at oncestarted for the corral. The others gathered around the foreman forfurther details, but he waved them away and retired to his own bunk. For he never used the little room at the end of the building whichwas set aside for the foreman. He lived and slept and ate among hiscowpunchers and that was one reason for his hold over them. At his bunk, he produced writing materials scribbled hastily. "Dear Jordan, "Hell has busted loose. "I played Perris with a long rope. I gave him a week because MissJordan asked me to. But at the end of the week he still wasn't readyto go. Seems that he's crazy to get Alcatraz. Talks about the horselike a drunk talking about booze. Plumb disgusting. But when I toldhim to go to-night, he up and said they wasn't enough men in theValley to throw him off the ranch. I would of taken a fall out of himfor that, but Miss Jordan stepped in and kept me away from him. "Afterwards I had a talk with her. She begged me not to go afterPerris because he would fight and that meant a killing. I told her Ihad to do what I'd said I'd do. Then she busted out and told me thatshe loved Perris. Seemed to think that would keep me from going afterPerris. She might of knowed that it was the very thing that wouldmake me hit the trail. I'm not going to stand by and see a skunk likePerris run away with your girl while you ain't on the ranch. "I've just given orders to a couple of the boys to see that she don'tget a horse to go out to Perris. Tomorrow or the next day I'll settlehis hash. "This letter may make you think that you'd better come back to theranch. But take my advice and stay off. I can handle this thing betterwhile you're away. If you're here you'll have to listen to a lot ofbegging and crying. Come back in a week and everything will be clearedup. "Take it easy and don't worry none. I'm doing my best for you and yourdaughter, even if she don't know it. "Sincerely, "LEW HERVEY. " This letter, when completed, he surveyed with considerablecomplacence. If ever a man were being bound to another by chains ofinseparable gratitude, Oliver Jordan was he! Indeed, the whole affairwas working out so smoothly, so perfectly, that Hervey felt the thrillof an artist sketching a large and harmonious composition. In thefirst place, Red Jim Perris, whom he hated with unutterable fervorbecause the younger man filled him with dread, would be turned, asHervey expressed it, "into buzzard food. " And Hervey would be praisedfor the act! Oliver Jordan, owing the preservation of his daughterfrom a luckless marriage to the vigilance of his foreman, couldnever regret the life-contract which he had drawn up. No doubt thatcontract, as it stood, could never hold water in the law. But Jordan'sgratitude would make it proof. Last of all, and best of all, whenPerris was disposed of, Marianne would never be able to remain on theranch. She would go to forget her sorrow among her school friends inthe East. And Hervey, undisputed lord and master of the ranch, couldbleed it white in half a dozen years and leave it a mere husk, overladen with mortgages. No wonder a song was in the heart of the foreman as he sealed theletter. He gave the message to Slim, and added directions. "You'll be missing from the party, " he said, as he handed over theletter, "but the party we have with Perris is apt to be pretty muchlike a party with a wild-cat. You can thank your stars you'll be onthe road when it comes off!" And Slim had sense enough to nod in agreement. CHAPTER XX THE TRAP SHUTS In one matter Lew Hervey had acted none too quickly. Shorty and LittleJoe arrived at the corral in time to find Marianne in the very act ofleading out her pony. They told her firmly and gently that the horsemust go back, and when she defied them, they astonished her by simplyremoving her hand from the lead-rope and taking the horse away. Invain she stormed and threatened. In vain, at length, she broke intotears. Either of them would have given an arm to serve her. But infact they considered they were at that moment rendering the greatestservice possible. They were saving her from herself. She fled back to the house again, finally, and threw herself face downon her bed in an agony of dread, and helplessness, and shame. Shamebecause from Little Joe's brief remarks, she gathered that Hervey hadalready spread the news of her confession. But shame and fear weresuddenly forgotten. She found herself sitting wide-eyed on the edgeof the bed repeating over and over in a shaking voice "I have to getthere! I have to get there!" But how utterly Hervey had tied her hands! She could not budge to warnPerris or to join him! The long night wore away with Marianne crouched at the windowstraining her eyes towards the corrals. Night was the proper time forsuch a thing as the murder of Red Perris. They would not dare, shefelt, for all their numbers, to face him in the honest sunshine. Soshe peered eagerly towards the shadowy outlines of the barns and shedsuntil at length a wan moon rose and gave her blessed light. But no one approached the corrals from the bunkhouse, and at length, when the dawn began to grow, she fell asleep. It was a sleep filledwith nightmares and before the sun was well up she was awake again, and at watch. Mid-morning came, yet still none of the men rode out to their ordinarywork. There could be only one meaning. They were held back to join theexpedition. They were at this very moment, perhaps, cleaning theirguns in the bunkhouse. Noon brought no action. They trooped cheerfullytowards the house in answer to the noon-gong. She heard them laughingand jesting. What cold-blooded fiends they were to be able to conductthemselves in this manner when they intended to do a murder before theday had ended! And indeed, it was only for this meal they seemed tohave planned to wait. Before the afternoon was well begun, there was saddling and mountingand then Hervey, Little Joe, Shorty, Macintosh, and Scotty climbedonto their mounts and jogged out towards the east. Her heart leapedwith only a momentary hope when she saw the direction, but instantlyshe undeceived herself. They would, of course, swing north as soon asthey were well out of sight from the house, and then they would headfor the shack on the mountain-side, aiming to reach it at about thefall of twilight. And what could she do to stop them? She ran out through the patio and to the front of the house. Thedust-cloud already had swallowed the individual forms of the riders. And turning to the left, she saw McGuire and Hastings lolling in fullview near the corrals. With consummate tact, Hervey had chosen thoseof his men who were the oldest, the hardest, the least liable to bemelted by her persuasions. Moaning, she turned back and looked east. The dust-cloud was dwindlingevery minute. And without hope, she cast another glance towards thecorrals. Evidently, the men agreed that it was unnecessary for two ofthem to stay in the heat of the sun to prevent her from getting ata horse. Hastings had turned his back and was strolling towards thebunkhouse. McGuire was perched on a stump rolling a cigarette andgrinning broadly towards her. He would be a hard man to handle. But at least there was more hopethan before. One man was not so hard to manage as two, each shamingthe other into indifference. She went slowly towards McGuire, turningagain to see the dust-cloud roll out of view over a distant hill. In that cloud of dust, Hervey kept the pace down to an easy dog-trot. From mid-afternoon until evening--for he did not intend to exposehimself primarily and his men in the second place, to the accurate gunof Red Jim in broad daylight--was a comfortable stretch in whichto make the journey to the shack on the mountain-side. Like a goodgeneral, he kept the minds of his followers from growing tense bydeftly turning the talk, on the way, to other topics, as they swungoff the east trail towards Glosterville and journeyed due north overthe rolling foothills. There was only one chance in three that hecould have deceived the girl by his first direction, but that chancewas worth taking. He had a wholesome respect for the mental powersof Oliver Jordan's daughter and he by no means wished to drive herfrantic in the effort to get to Perris with her warning. Of courseit would be impossible for her to wheedle McGuire and Hastings intoletting her have a horse, but if she should---- Here Hervey abruptly turned his thoughts in a new direction. The oldone led to results too unpleasant. In the meantime, as they wore out the miles and the day turned towardssunset time, the cheery conversation which Little Joe had led amongthe riders fell away. They were coming too close to the time and placeof action. What that action must be was only too easy to guess. Itwas simply impossible to imagine Red Perris submitting to an order toleave. He had already defied their assembled forces once. He wouldcertainly make the attempt again. Of course odds of five to one weretoo great for even the most courageous and skilful fighter to face. But he might do terrible damage before the end. And it was a solemn procession which wound up the hillside throughthe darkening trees. Until at length, at a word from Hervey, theydismounted, tethered their horses here and there where there wassufficient grass to occupy them and keep them from growing nervous andneighing, and then started on again on foot. At this point Hervey took the lead. For that matter, he had never beenlacking in sheer animal courage, and now he wound up the path withhis long colt in his hand, ready to shoot, and shoot to kill. Once ortwice small sounds made him pause, uneasy. But his progress was fairlysteady until he came to the edge of the little clearing where theshack stood. There was no sign of life about it. The shack seemed deserted. Thickdarkness filled its doorway and the window, though the rest of theclearing was still permeated with a faint afterglow of the sunset. "He ain't here, " said Little Joe softly, as he came to the side of thewatchful foreman. "Don't be too sure, " said the other. "I'd trust this Perris andtake about as many chances with him as I would with a rattler in asix-by-six room. Maybe he's in there playing possum. Waiting for us tomake a break across the clearing. That'd be fine for Red Jim, damn hisheart!" Little Joe peered back at the anxious faces of the others, as theycame up the path one by one. He did not like to be one of so largea party held up by a single man. In fact, Joe was a good deal of awarrior himself. He was new to the Valley of the Eagles, but therewere other parts of the mountain-desert where his fame was spreadbroadcast. There were even places where sundry officers of the lawwould have been glad to lay hands upon him. "Well, " quoth Joe, "we'll give him a chance. If he ain't a fightingman, but just a plain murderer, we'll let him show it, " and so saying, he stepped boldly out from the sheltering darkness of the trees andstrode towards the hut, an immense and awesome figure in the twilight. Lew Hervey followed at once. It would not do to be out-dared by one ofhis crew in a crisis as important as this. But for all his haste thelong strides of Joe had brought him to the door of the hut many yardsin the lead, and he disappeared inside. Presently his big voiceboomed: "He ain't here. Plumb vanished. " They gathered in the hut at once. "Where's he gone?" asked the foreman, scratching his head. "Maybe he ain't acting as big as he talked, " said Shorty. "Maybe he'sslid over the mountains. " "Strike a light, somebody, " commanded the foreman. Three or four sulphur matches were scratched at the same moment ontrousers made tight by cocking the knee up. Each match glimmeredthrough sheltering fingers with dull blue light, for a moment, andthen as the sulphur was exhausted and the flame caught the wood, thehands opened and directed shafts of light here and there. The wholecabin was dimly illumined for a moment while man after man thrust hisburning match towards something he had discovered. "Here's his blankets. All mussed up. " "Here's a pair of boots. " "Here's the frying pan right on the stove. " They wandered here and there, lighting new matches until Little Joespoke. "No use, boys, " he declared. "Perris has hopped out. Wise gent, atthat. He seen the game was too big for him. And I don't blame him forquitting. Ain't nothing here that he'd come after. Them boots are woreout. The blankets and the cooking things he got from the ranch. Lookat the way the blankets are piled up. Shows he quit in a rush andstarted away. When a gent figures on coming back, he tidies thingsup a little when he leaves in the morning. No, boys, he's gone. Mainthing to answer is: If he ain't left the valley why ain't he here inhis shack now?" "Maybe he's hunting that damn hoss?" suggested the foreman, but hisvoice was weak with uncertainty. "Hunting Alcatraz after dark?" queried Little Joe. There was no answer possible. The last glow of twilight was fadingto deep night. The trees on the edge of the clearing seemed to growtaller and blacker each moment. Certainly if it were well-nighimpossible to hunt the stallion effectively in daylight it was sheermadness to hunt him at night. Every moment they waited in the cabin, the certainty that Perris had left the valley grew greater. It showedin their voices, for every man had spoken softly at first as thoughfor fear the spirit of the inhabitant of the shack might drift nearunseen and overhear. Now their words came loud, disturbing andstartling Hervey in the midst of his thoughts, as he continuedwandering about the cabin, lighting match after match, striving invain to find something which would reawaken his hopes. But there wasnothing of enough worth to induce Perris to return, and finally Herveygave up. "We'll start on, " he said at length. "You boys ride along. I'll givethe place another look. " As a matter of fact, he merely wished to be alone, and he was dimlypleased as they sauntered off through the trees, their voices comingmore and more vaguely back to him, until the far-off rattle ofhoofs began. The last he heard of them was a high-pitched laugh. Itirritated Hervey. It floated back to him thin and small, like mockery. And indeed he had failed miserably. How great was his failure he couldhardly estimate in a moment and he needed quiet to sum up his losses. First of all, he had hopelessly alienated the girl and while offendingher he had failed to serve the rancher. For Red Jim Perris, driven byforce from the ranch, would surely return again to exact paymentin full for the treatment he had received. The whole affair was ahopeless muddle. He had staked everything on his ability to trapPerris and destroy him, thereby piling upon the shoulders of OliverJordan a burden of gratitude which the rancher could never repay. Butnow that Perris was footloose he became a danger imperilling not onlyJordan but Hervey himself. The trap had closed and closed on nothing. The future presented to Hervey stark ruin. So enthralling was the gloom of these thoughts that the foreman didnot hear the thudding hoofs of a horse which trotted up through thetrees. Not until horse and rider appeared in the clearing was Herveyroused and then in the first glance by the size and the tossing headof the approaching pony, he recognized the horse of Red Perris! CHAPTER XXI THE BATTLE He had time to burst from the hut and race across the clearing throughthe darkness which would surely shelter him from the snap-shot ofeven such an expert as Red Jim, but in mind and body Hervey was tooparalyzed by the appearance of his enemy to stir until he saw Perrisslip from his horse, slumping to the earth after the fashion of aweary man, and drag off the saddle. He paid no attention to tetheringhis pony, but started towards the shack, down-headed, heavy of foot. Hervey had gained the door of the shack in the interim, and there hecrouched at watch, terrified at the thought of staying till the otherentered, still more terrified at the idea of bolting across the openclearing. He could see Perris clearly, in outline, for just behind himthere was a rift in the circle of trees which fenced the clearing andRed Jim was thrown into somewhat bold relief against the blue-blackof the night sky far beyond. He could even make out that a bandagecircled the head of Perris and with that sight a new thought leapedinto the brain of the foreman. The bandage, the stumbling walk, thedownward head, were all signs of a badly injured and exhausted man. Suppose he were to attack Perris, single-handed and destroy him? Theentire problem would be solved! The respect of his men, the deathlessgratitude of Jordan were in the grip of his hand. His fingers locked around the butt of his gun and yet he hesitated todraw. One could never be sure. How fast, how lightning fast his mindplunged through thought after thought, image after flocking image, while Red Jim made the last dragging steps towards the door of theshack! If he drew, Perris, despite his bent head might catch theglimmer of steel and draw and fire at the glance of the gun. Therewere tales of gun experts doing more remarkable feats. Wild Bill, in his prime, from the corner of his eye saw a man draw a whitehankerchief, thought it a gun, whirled on his heel, and killed aharmless stranger. He who stops to think can rarely act. It was true of Hervey. ThenPerris, at the very door of the hut, dropped the flopping saddle tothe ground and the foreman saw that no holster swung at the hip of hisman. Joy leaped in him. There was no thought for the cruel cowardiceof his act but only overmastering gratitude that the enemy should bethus delivered helpless into his hand. Through the split part of asecond that thrill passed tingling through and through him, then heshouted: "Perris!" and at the same instant whipped out the gun andfired pointblank. A snake will rattle before it strikes and a dog will snarl before itbares its teeth: instinct forced Hervey to that exulting cry and evenas the gun came into his hand he saw Perris spin sideways. He firedand the figure at the door lunged down at him. The shoulder struckHervey in the upturned face and smashed him backwards so that his handflew out to break the force of the fall, knocked on the floor, and therevolver shot from the unnerved fingers. If he had any hope that his bullet had gone home and that this was thefall of a dying man, it was instantly removed. Lean arms, amazinglyswift, amazingly strong, coiled round him. Hands gripped at him with aclutch so powerful that the fingers burned into his flesh. And, mosthorrible of all, Red Jim fought in utter silence, as a bull-terrierfights when it goes for the throat. The impetus of that unexpected attack, half-stunned Lew Hervey. Thenthe spur of terror gave him hysterical strength. A hand caught at his throat and got a choking hold. He whirled hisheavy body with all his might, tore lose, and broke to his feet. Staggering back to the wall, he saw Red Perris crouch in the door andthen spring in again. Hervey struck out with all his might but feltthe blow glance and then the coiling arms were around him again. Onceagain, in the crashing fall to the floor, the hold of Perris wasbroken and Hervey leaped away for the door yelling: "Perris--it's amistake--for God's sake----" The catlike body sprang out of the corner into which it had been flungby Hervey as the foreman rose from the floor. As well attempt to eludea panther by flight! Lew whirled with a sobbing breath of despair andsmashed out again with clubbed fist. But the lithe shadow swerved asa leaf whirls from a beating hand and again their bodies crashedtogether. But was it a dream that there was less power in the arms of Perrisnow? Had the foreman seen Red Jim lying prostrate and senseless afterhis battle with Alcatraz on that day, he would have understood thissudden failing of energy, but as it was he dared not trust his senses. He only knew that it was possible to tear the twining grip away, tospring back till he crashed against the side of the shanty, stillpleading in a fear-maddened voice: "Perris, d'you hear? I didn'tmean--" As well appeal to a thunder-bolt. The shadowy form came again but now, surely, it was less swift and resistless. He was able to leap fromthe path but in dodging his legs entangled in a chair and he tumbledheadlong. It was well for Hervey then that his panic was not blind, but with the surety that the end was come he whirled to his knees withthe chair which had felled him gripped in both hands and straight atthe lunging Perris he hurled it with all his strength. The missilewent home with a crash and Red Jim slumped into a formless shadow onthe floor. Only now that a chance for flight was open to him did the strength ofHervey desert him. A nightmare weakness was in his knees so that hecould hardly reel to his feet and he moved with outstretched handstowards the door until his toe clicked against his fallen revolver. Hepaused to scoop it up and turning back through the door, he realizedsuddenly that Red Jim had not moved. The body lay spilled out where ithad fallen, strangely flat, strangely still. With stumbling fingers, the foreman lighted a match and by thatwobbling light he saw Perris lying on his face with his arms thrownout, as a man lies when he is knocked senseless--as a man lies when heis struck dead! Yet Hervey stood drinking in the sight until his matchburned his fingers. The old nightmare fear descended on him the moment the darkness closedabout him again. He seemed to see the limp form collect itself andprepare to rise. But he fought this fancy away. He would stay and makelight enough to examine the extent of his victory. He remembered having seen paper and wood lying beside the stove. Nowhe scooped it up, threw off the covers of the stove, and in a momentwhite smoke was pouring up from the paper, then flickering bursts offlame every one of which made the body of Perris seem shuddering backto life. But presently the fire rose and Hervey could clearly see thecabin, sadly wrecked by the struggle, and the figure of Perris stillmoveless. Even now he went with gingerly steps, the gun thrust out before him. It seemed a miracle that this tigerish fighter should have beensuddenly reduced to the helplessness of a child. Holding the gunready, he slipped his left hand under the fallen man and after amoment, faintly but unmistakably, he felt the beating of the heart. Let it be ended, then! He pressed the muzzle of the revolver into the back of Perris but hisfinger refused to tighten around the trigger. No, the powder-burnwould prove he had shot his man from behind, and that meant hanging. A tug of his left hand flopped the limp body over, but then his handswere more effectually tied than ever for the face of the unconsciousman worked strangely on him. "It's him now, " thought Hervey, "or me later on. " But still he could not shoot. "Helpless as a child"--why had thatcomparison entered his mind? He studied the features, very palebeneath the bloody bandage which Perris had improvised whenhe recovered from his battle with the stallion. He was veryyoung--terribly young. Hervey was unnerved. But suppose he let Perriscome back to his senses, wakened those insolent blue eyes, startedthat sharp tongue to life--then it would be a very much easier matterto shoot. So Lew went to the door, took the rope from Red Jim's saddle, and withit bound the arms of Perris to his side. Then he lifted the hangingbody--how light a weight it was!--and placed it in a chair, where itdoubled over, limp as a loosely stuffed scarecrow. Hervey tossed morewood on the fire and when he turned again, Perris was showing thefirst signs of returning consciousness, a twitching of his fingers. After that his senses returned with astonishing speed. In the space ofa moment or two he had straightened in the chair, opened dead eyes, groaned faintly, and then tugged against his bonds. It seemed thatthat biting of the rope into his arm-muscles cleared his mind. All inan instant he was staring straight into the eyes and into the thoughtsof Hervey with full understanding. "I see, " said Perris, "it was the chair that turned the trick. You'relucky, Hervey. " It seemed to Hervey a wonderful thing that the red-headed man could beso quiet about it, and most wonderful of all that Perris could look atanything in the world rather than the big Colt which hung in the handof the victor. And then, realizing that it was his own comparativecowardice that made this seem strange, the foreman gritted his teeth. Shame softens the heart sometimes, but more often it hardens thespirit. It hardened the conqueror against his victim, now, and made itpossible for him to look down on Red Jim with a cruel satisfaction. "Well?" he said, and the volume of his voice added to thisdetermination. "Well?" said Perris, as calm as ever. "Waiting for me to whine?" Hervey blinked. "Who licked you?" he asked, forced to change his thoughts. "Who lickedyou--before I got at you?" Perris smiled, and there was something about the smile that madeHervey flush to the roots of his grey hair. "Alcatraz had the first innings, " said Perris. "He cleaned me up. Andthat, Hervey, was tolerably lucky for you. " "Was it?" sneered the victor. "You'd of done me up quick, maybe, ifAlcatraz hadn't wore you out?" He waited hungrily for a reply that might give him some basis on whichto act, for after all, it was not going to be easy to fire pointblankinto those steady, steady eyes. And more than all, he hungered to seesome wavering of courage, some blenching from the thing to come. "Done you up?" echoed Red Jim. And he ran his glance slowly, thoughtfully over the body of the foreman. "I'd of busted you in two, Hervey. " A little chilly shiver ran through Hervey but he managed to shrugthe feeling away--the feeling that someone was standing behind him, listening, and looking into his shameful soul. But no one could benear. It would be simple, perfectly simple. What person in the worldcould doubt his story of how he met Perris at the shack and warned himagain to leave the Valley of the Eagles and of how Perris went for thegun but was beaten in fair fight? Who could doubt it? An immense senseof security settled around him. "Well, " he said, "second guessing is easy, even for a fool. " "Right, " nodded Red Jim. "I should of knifed you when I had you down. " "If you'd had a knife, " said Hervey. "Look at my belt, Lew. " There it was, the stout handle of a hunting knife. The same chillswept through Hervey a second time and, for a moment, he waveredin his determination. Then, with all his heart, he envied thatindefinable thing in the eyes of Perris, the thing which he had hatedall his life. Some horses had it, creatures with high heads, andalways he had made it a point to take that proud gleam out. "A hoss is made for work, not foolishness, " he used to say. Here it was, looking out at him from the eyes of his victim. He hatedit, he feared and envied it, and from the very bottom of his heart heyearned to destroy it before he destroyed Perris. "You know, " he said with sudden savagery, "what's coming?" "I'm a pretty good guesser, " nodded Red Jim. "When a fellow tries toshoot me in the dark, and then slugs me with a chair and ties me up, Igenerally make it out that he figures on murder, Hervey. " He gave just the slightest emphasis to the important word, and yetsomething in Hervey grew tense. Murder it was, and of the mostdastardly order, no matter how he tried to excuse it by protesting tohimself his devotion to Oliver Jordan. The lies we tell to our ownsouls about ourselves are the most damning ones, as they are also theeasiest. But Hervey found himself so cornered that he dared not thinkabout his act. He stopped thinking, therefore, and began to shout. This is logical and human, as every woman knows who has found an iratehusband in the wrong. Hervey began to hate with redoubled intensitythe man he was about to destroy. "You come here and try to play the cock of the walk, " cried theforeman. "It don't work. You try to face me out before all my men. Youthreaten me. You show off your gun-fighting, damn you, and then youcall it murder when I beat you fair and square and--" He found it impossible to continue. The prisoner was actually smiling. "Hound dogs always hunt in the dark, " said Red Jim. A quiver of fear ran through Hervey. Indeed, he was haunted by chillyuneasiness all the time. In vain he assured himself with reason thathis victim was utterly helpless. A ghostly dread remained in the backof his mind that through some mysterious agency the red-headed manwould be liberated, and then----. Hervey shuddered in vital earnest. What would happen to a crow that dared trap an eagle. "I'm due back at the ranch, " said Hervey, "to tell 'em how you jumpedme here while I was waiting here quiet to warn you again to get outof the Valley of the Eagles peaceable. Before I go, Perris, is theyanything you want done, any messages you want to leave behind you?" And he set his teeth when he saw that Perris did not blench. He wasperfectly quiet. Nearness to death sometimes acts in this manner. Itreduces men to the unaffected simplicity of children. "No message, thanks, " said Red Jim. "Nobody to leave them to andnothing to leave but a hoss that somebody else will ride and a gunthat somebody else will shoot. " "And the girl?" said Lew Hervey. And a thrill of consummate satisfaction passed through him, for RedPerris had plainly been startled out of his calm. "A girl?" "You know what I mean. Marianne Jordan. " He smiled knowingly. "Well?" said Perris, breathing hard. "Why, you fool, " cried the foreman, "don't you know she's gone plumbwild about you? Didn't she come begging to me to get you out oftrouble?" "You lie!" burst out Perris. But by his roving glance, by the sudden outpouring of sweat whichgleamed on his forehead, Hervey knew that he had shaken his man to thesoul. By playing carefully on this string might he not reduce eventhis care-free fighter to trembling love of life? Might he not makeRed Perris cringe! All cowards feel that their own vice exists inothers. Hervey, in his entire life, had dreaded nothing saving RedJim, and now he felt that he had found the thing which would make lifetoo dear to Perris to be given up with a smile. "Begging? I'll tell a man she did!" nodded Hervey. "It's because she's plumb generous. She thought that might turn you. Why--she don't hardly know me!" "Don't she?" sneered Hervey. "You don't figure her right. She's oneof the hit or miss kind. She hated me the minute she laid eyes onme--hated me for nothing! And you knocked her off her feet the firstshot. That's all there is to it. She'd give the Valley of the Eaglesfor a smile from you. " He saw the glance of Perris wander into thin distance and soften. Thenthe eye of Red Jim returned to his tormentor, desperately. The blowhad told better than Hervey could have hoped. "And me a plain tramp--a loafer--me!" said Perris to himself. He addedsuddenly: "Hervey, let's talk man to man!" "Go on, " said the foreman, and set his teeth to keep his exultationfrom showing. Five minutes more, he felt, and Perris would be begging like a cowardfor his life. CHAPTER XXII MCGUIRE SLEEPS Never did a fox approach a lion with more discretion than Marianneapproached the careless figure of McGuire. His very attitude was awarning that her task was to be made as difficult as possible. He hadpushed his sombrero, limp with age and wear, far back on his head, andnow, gazing, apparently, into the distant blue depths of the sky, heregarded vacancy with mild interest and blew in the same direction athin brownish vapor of smoke. Obviously he expected an argument; hewas leading her on. And just as obviously he wanted the argumentmerely for the sake of killing time. He was in tremendous need ofamusement. That was all. She wanted to go straight to him with a bitter appeal to his manhood, to his mercy as a man. But she realized that this would not do at all. A strenuous attack would simply rouse him. Therefore she calledup from some mysterious corner of her tormented heart a smile, orsomething that would do duty as a smile. Strangely enough, no soonerhad the smile come than her whole mental viewpoint changed. It becameeasy to make the smile real; half of her anxiety fell away. Anddropping one hand on her hip, she said cheerfully to McGuire. "You look queer as a prison-guard, Mr. McGuire. " She made a great resolve, that moment, that if she were ever safelythrough the catastrophe which now loomed ahead, she would diminish thedistance between her and her men and form the habit of calling them bytheir first names. She could not change as abruptly in a moment, butshe understood perfectly, that if she had been able to call McGuireby some foolish and familiar nickname, half of his strangeness wouldimmediately melt away. As it was, she made the best of a bad matter bythrowing all the gentle good nature possible into her voice, and shewas rewarded by seeing McGuire jerk up his head and jerk down hisglance at her. At the same time, he crimsoned to the eyes, changinghis weathered complexion to a flaring, reddish-brown. "Prison-guard?" said McGuire. "Me?" "Well, " answered Marianne, "that's the truth, isn't it? You're theguard and I'm the prisoner?" "I'm watching these hosses, " said McGuire. "That's all. They ain't nomoney could hire me to guard a woman. " "Really?" said Marianne. "Sure. I used to have a wife. I know. " She laughed, a little hysterically, but McGuire treated the mirth asa compliment to his jest and joined in with a tremendous guffaw. Hiseyes were still wet with mirth as she said: "Too bad you have to wastetime like this, with such a fine warm day for sleeping. Couldn't youtrust the corral bars to take care of the horses?" His glance twinkled with understanding. It was plain that heappreciated her point and the way she made it. "Them hosses are feeling their oats, " said McGuire. "Can't tell whatthey'd be up to the minute I turned my back on 'em. Might jump thatold fence and be off, for all I know. " "Well, " said Marianne, "they look quite contented. And if one of themdid take advantage of you and run away while you slept, I'm sure itwould come home again. " He had quite fallen into the spirit of the thing. "Maybe, " grinned McGuire, "but I might wake up out of a job. " "Well, " said Marianne, "there have been times when I would haveweighed one hour of good sleep against two jobs as pleasant as this. How much real damage might that sleep do?" "If it took me out of the job? Oh, I dunno. Might take another monthbefore I landed a place as good. " "Surely not as long as that. But isn't it possible that your sleepmight be worth _two_ months' wages to you, Mr. McGuire?" "H-m-m, " growled McGuire, and his little shifty eyes fastened keenlyon her. "You sure mean business!" "As much as anyone in the world could!" cried the girl, suddenlyserious. And for a moment they stared at each other. "Lady, " said McGuire at length, "I begin to feel sort of yawny andsleepy, like. " "Then sleep, " said Marianne, her voice trembling in spite of herself. "You might have pleasant dreams, you know--of a murder prevented--of aman's life saved!" McGuire jerked his sombrero low over his eyes. "You think it's as bad as that?" he growled, glaring at her. "I swear it is!" He considered another moment. Then: "You'll have to excuse me, MissJordan. But I'm so plumb tired out I can't hold up my end of this talkno longer!" So saying, he dropped his head on both his doubled fists, and she lostsight of his face. It had come so inconceivably easily, this triumph, that she was too dazed to move, for a moment. Then she turned andfairly raced for the corral. It had all been the result of the firstsmile with which she went to McGuire, she felt. And as she saddled herbay in a shed a moment later she was blessing the power of laughter. It had given her the horse. It had let her pass through the bars. Itplaced her on the open road where she fled away at a swift gallop, only looking back, as she reached the top of the first hill, to seeMcGuire still seated on the stump, but now his head was canted far toone side, and she had no doubt that he must be asleep in very fact. Then the hill rose behind her, shutting out the ranch, and sheturned to settle to her work. Never in her life--and she had riddencross-country on blood horses in the East--had she ridden as she rodeon this day! She was striking on a straight line over hill and dale, through the midst of barbed wire. But the wire halted her only forshort checks. The swift snipping of the pair of pliers which was everin her saddle bag cleared the way, and as the lengths of wire snappedhumming back, coiling like snakes, she rode through and headed intothe next field at a renewed gallop. She was leaving behind her a day'swork for half a dozen men, but she would have sacrificed ten times thevalue of the whole ranch to gain another half hour of precious time. For when she broke down the last of the small fenced fields the sunwas already down. And when twilight came, she knew by instinct, theblow would fall. Yet the distance to the shack was still terribly far. She straightened the gallant little bay to her work, but at everystride she moaned. Oh for such legs beneath her as the legs ofLady Mary, stretching swiftly and easily over the ground! But thischopping, laboring stride--! She struck her hand against her foreheadand then spurred mercilessly. As a result, the bay merely tossed herhead, for she was already drawn straight as a string by the effort ofher gallop. And Marianne had to sit back in the saddle and simply prayfor time, while the little thirty-two revolver in the saddle holsterbefore her, flapped monotonously, beating out the rhythm of everystride. And the night rode over the mountains with mysterious speed. It seemedto her frantic brain that the gap between crimson sunset and pallidtwilight could have been spanned by a scant five minutes. And now, when she found herself at the foot of the last slope, it was theutter dark, and above her head the white stars were rushing past thetreetops. The slope was killing the mare. She fell from her laboredgallop to a trot, from the trot to a shambling jog, and then to awalk. And all the time Marianne found herself listening with desperateintensity for the report of a gun out of the woods ahead! She threw herself out of the saddle, cast hardly a glance at thedrooping figure of the bay, and ran forward on foot, stumbling in thedark over fallen branches, slipping more than once and dropping flaton her face as her feet shot back without foothold from the pineneedles. But she picked herself up again and flung herself at her workwith a frantic determination. Through the trees, filtered by the branches, she saw a light. Butwhen she came to the edge of the clearing she made out that theillumination came from a fire, not a lantern. The interior of thecabin was awash with shadows, and across the open doorway of the hutthe monstrous and obscure outline of a standing man wavered to andfro. There was no clamor of many voices. And her heart leaped withrelief. Hervey and his men, then, had lost heart at the last moment. They had not dared to attack Red Jim Perris in spite of their numbers! But her joy died, literally, mid-leap. "Hervey, " cried the voice of Perris, a trembling and fear-sharpenedvoice, "for God's sake, wait!" Red Perris begging, cringing to any man, to Lew Hervey? All at onceshe went weak and sick, but she hurried straight towards the cabin, trying to cry out. Her throat was closed. She could not utter so muchas a whisper. "Listen to me!" went on Perris. "I've been a fool all my life. I knowit now. I've wandered around fighting and playing like a block-head. I've wanted nothing but action and I've got it. But now you tell methat I've had something else right in the hollow of my hand and Ididn't know it! Maybe you've lied about her. I dunno. But just thethought that she might care a little about me has----" Marianne stopped short in the darkness and a hot wave of shame blottedout the rest of the words until the heavier voice of the foreman beganagain. "Maybe you'd have me think you're kind of fond of the girl--that youlove her, all at once, just because I told you she's in love withyou?" "I'd have you think it and I'd have you believe it. When a gent sitslooking into the face of a gun he does his thinking and his livingmighty fast and condensed. And I know this, that if you turn me loosealive, Hervey, I'll give you my word that I'll forget what's happened. You think I'll hit your trail with a gat. But you're wrong. Makeyour own bargain, partner. But when I think of what life might benow--Hervey, I can't die now! I'm not ready to die!" She had been stumbling in a daze towards the door. Now she camesuddenly in view of them, the broad back of Hervey turned towards herand Perris facing her, his face white, drawn, and changed. And theblood-stained bandage about his forehead. He leaned forward in hischair in the fervor of his appeal, his arms lashed against his sideswith the loose of a lariat. "Are you through begging?" sneered Hervey. It threw Perris back in the chair like a blow in the face. Then hestraightened. "You've told me all this just to see me weaken, eh, Hervey?" "And I've seen it, " said Hervey. "I've seen you ready to take water. That's all I wanted. You've lost your grip and you'll never get itback. Right now you're all hollow inside. Perris, you can't look me inthe eye!" "You lie, " said Red Jim quietly, and lifting his head, he stared fullinto the face of his tormentor. "You made a hound out of me, but onlyfor a minute, Hervey. " And then she saw him stiffen in the chair, and his eyes narrow. Thechains of fear and of shame which had bound her snapped. "Hervey!" she cried, and as he whirled she came panting into the door. Just for an instant she saw a devil glitter in his eyes but in amoment his glance wavered. He admitted himself beaten as he thrust hisrevolver into the holster. "Talk wouldn't make Perris leave, " he mumbled. "I been trying to throwa little scare into him. And the bluff would of worked if--" She cut in on him: "I heard enough to understand. I know what youtried to do. Oh, Lew Hervey, if this could be told, your own men wouldrun you down like a mad dog!" He had grown livid with a mixture of emotions. "If it could be told. Maybe. But it can't be told! Keep clear of him, or I'll drill him, by God!" She obeyed, stepping back from Jim. He backed towards the door where the saddle of Perris lay, andstooping, he snatched the revolver of Red Jim from the saddle-holster. For the moment, at least, his enemy was disarmed and there was no fearof immediate pursuit. "I still have a day or two, " he said. "And the game ain't ended. Remember that, Perris. It ain't ended till Jordan comes back. " And he turned into the darkness which closed over him at once like thefalling of a blanket. "You won't follow him?" she pleaded. He shook his head and a moment later, under the touch of his ownhunting knife which she drew, the rope parted and freed his arms. At the same instant she heard the hoofs of Hervey's horse crashingthrough the underbrush down the mountain side. And not till that finalsignal of success reached her did Marianne give way to the hysteriawhich had been flooding higher and higher in her throat ever sincethose words of Hervey had arrested her in the clearing. But oncereleased it came in a rush, blinding her, so that she could not seePerris through her tears as he placed her gently in the chair. Onlythrough the wild confusion of her sobbing she could hear his voicesaying words she did not understand, over and over again, but she knewthat his voice was infinitely soft, infinitely reassuring. Then her mind cleared and her nerves steadied with amazing suddenness, just as the wind at a stroke will tumble the storm clouds aside andleave a placid blue sky above. She found Red Jim kneeling beside thechair with his arms around her and her head on his shoulder, wet withher tears. For the first time she could hear and really understandwhat he had been saying over and over again. He was telling her thathe loved her, would always love her, that he could forgive Lew Hervey, even, because of the message which he had brought. Had she confessed everything, then, in the hysteria? Had she confirmedwhat Lew Hervey said? Yes, for the voice of Red Jim was unquestioning, cherishing as men will the thing which they love and own. "You're better now?" he asked at length. "Yes, " she answered, "I'm weak--and ashamed--and--what have I said toyou?" "Something that's made me happier than a king. And I'll make it athing you'll never have to regret, so help me God!" He raised her to her feet. "Now you have to go home--at once. " "And you?" "Hervey will come hunting me again tomorrow, and he'll have his menwith him. He doesn't know I've forgotten him. He thinks it's his lifeor mine, and he'll try to run me down. " "The sheriff--" she cried fiercely. "That's where I'm going. To Glosterville to hide like a coward wherethe sheriff can look out for me. I can't take chances now. I don'tbelong to myself. When your father comes back and takes charge of theranch, and Hervey, I'll come when you send for me. I'll get my thingstogether to-night, ride down the valley so they can't trap me againhere, camp out for an hour or so in the morning, and then cut outacross the Eagles. But you're strong enough to ride home?" She nodded, and they walked side by side out across the clearing anddown towards the place where she had left the bay. And it seemed toMarianne, leaning a little on the arm of Red Jim, that she had shiftedthe whole burden of her worries onto the shoulders of her lover. Hertroubles disappeared. The very sound of his voice assured her ofhappiness forever. They found the bay. The tough little mustang was already muchrecuperated, and Perris swept Marianne into the saddle. She leaned tokiss him. In the dark her lips touched the bandage around his head. "It's where Hervey struck you down!" she exclaimed. "Jim, you can'tride across the mountains so terribly hurt--" "It's only a scratch, " he assured her. "I met Alcatraz to-day, and hewon again! But the third time--" Marianne shivered. "Don't speak of him! He haunts me, Jim. The very mention of him takesall the happiness out of me. I feel--almost as if there were a badfate in him. But you promise, that you won't stay to take one finalchance? You won't linger in the Valley to hunt Alcatraz again? You'llride straight across the mountains when the morning comes?" "I promise, " answered Perris. But afterwards, as he watched her drift away through the darknesscalling back to him from time to time until her voice dwindled to abird-note and then faded away, Red Jim prayed in his heart of heartsthat he would not chance upon sight of the stallion in the morning, for if he did, he knew that the first solemn promise of his life wouldbe broken. CHAPTER XXIII LOBO The dawn of the next day came cold and grey about Alcatraz, greybecause the sheeted clouds that promised a storm were covering thesky, and cold with a wind out of the north. When he lifted his head, he saw where the first rains had covered the slopes of the EagleMountains with tenderest green, and looking higher, the snows weregathering on the summits. The prophetic thickening of his coatforetold a hard winter. Now he was on watch with the mares in the hollow behind and himself onthe crest rarely turning his head from a wisp of smoke which rose farsouth. He knew what that meant. Red Perris was on his trail again, and this was the morning-fire of the Great Enemy. He had lain on theground like a dead man the day before. Now he was risen to battleagain! Instinctively he swung his head and looked at the place wherethe saddle had rested the day before, the saddle which he had workedoff with so much wild rolling and scraping against rocks. He nibbled the grass as he watched, or now and again jerked up hishead to catch the scents which blow truer in the upper air-currents. It was on one of these occasions that he caught an odor only vaguelyknown to him, and known as a danger. He had never been able to labelit but he knew that when the grey mare caught such a scent she waseven more perturbed than when man rode into view. So now he breatheddeep, his great eyes shining with excitement. What could this dangerbe which was more to be dreaded than the Great Enemy? Yielding tocuriosity, he headed straight up wind to make sure. No doubt he thereby gave proof that he was unfitted to lead wildhorses in the mountains. The wise black of former days, or the greymare now, would never have stopped to question, but gathering the herdwith the alarm call, they would have busied themselves with unrollingmile after mile behind their flying heels. Alcatraz increased his walkto a trot, promptly lost the scent altogether, and headed onto thenext elevation to see if he could catch it again. He stood there for along moment, raising and lowering his head, and then turning a littlesidewise so that the wind would cut into his nostrils--which was atrick the grey had taught him. The scent was gone and the wind blew tohim only the pure coolness of dew, just sharpened to fragrance by ascent of distant sagebrush. He gave up and turned about to head forthe mares. The step for which he raised his forefoot was not completed for downthe hollow behind him he saw a grey skulker slinking with its bellyclose to the ground. If it stood erect it would be as tall as a calfnew-born. The tail was fluffy, the coat of fur a veritable mane aroundthe throat, the head long of muzzle and broad across the forehead withdark marks between the eyes and arching like brows above them so thatthe facial expression was one of almost human wisdom and wistfulness. It was a beautiful creature to watch, as its smooth trot carried itwith incredible speed across the stallion's line of retreat, butAlcatraz had seen those grey kings of the mountains before and kneweverything about them except their scent. He saw no beauty in thelofer wolf. The blood which congealed in his veins was released; he reared andwheeled and burst away at full gallop; there was a sobbing whine ofeagerness behind him--the lobo was stretched in pursuit. Never in his life had the chestnut run as he ran now, and never had hefled so hopelessly. He knew that one slash of those great white teethwould cut his throat to the vital arteries. He knew that for allhis speed he had neither the foot nor the wind to escape the greymarauder. It was only a matter of time, and short time at that, beforethe end came. The lofer prefers young meat and as a rule will cutdown a yearling colt, or dine on warm veal, eschewing cold flesh andfeeding only once from every kill--the lobo being the Lucullus ofbeasts of prey--but this prowler had either found scanty fare in along journey across the mountains or else he wished to kill now forpure deviltry and not from hunger. At any rate, he slid over theground like the shadow of a cloud driven in a storm. Already he gained fast, and yet he had not attained top speed; when hedid, he would walk up on the chestnut as the latter could walk up onthe mares of his herd. Over a hill bolted Alcatraz and beneath him he saw a faint hope ofescape--the flash of water where a brook, new-swelled by the rains, was running bankfull, a noisy torrent. He went down the slope like thewind, struck the level at such speed that the air stung his nostrils, and leaped from the firm gravel at the edge of the stream. The far bank seemed a mighty distance as he soared high--the waterrushed broad and swift beneath him, no swimming if he struck thatbubbling current--and then, a last pitch forwards in mid-air; aforefoot struck ground, the bank crushed in beneath his weight, andthen he was scrambling to the safety beyond and reeling into a newgallop. Behind him, he saw the shadowy pursuer skim down the slope, flinginto the air, and drop out of sight. Had he reached the shore? Tenseconds--no long and ominous head appeared--certainly he had fallenshort and landed in the furious current. Alcatraz dropped hisheart-breaking pace to a moderate gallop, but as he did so he sawa form which dripped with water scramble into view fifty yardsdown-stream--the lobo had managed to reach safety after all and now hecame like a bullet to end the chase. There was only half a hope left to Alcatraz and that was to turn andattempt to leave the wolf again at the water-jump; but now his renewedpanic paralyzed all power of thinking. He did not even do the nextbest thing--race straight away in a true line, but bearing off firstto the left and then to the right, he shot across the hills in amiserably wavering flight. The lobo came like doom behind him. The chill of the water had enragedhim. Besides, he did not often have to waste such time and energy tomake a kill, and now, bent on a quick ending, the fur which fringedhis lean belly cut the dew from the grass as he stretched to his fulland matchless speed. Alcatraz saw and strained forward but he hadreached his limit and the wolf gained with the passage of everysecond. Another danger appeared. Off to the side and well ahead, spurring hismount to top effort, came Red Perris, who must have marked the chasewith his glass. Alcatraz gave him not a glance, not a thought. Whatwas the whisper and burn of a rope, what was even the hum of a bulletcompared with the tearing teeth of the lofer wolf? So he kept to hiscourse, stretched straight from the tip of his nose to the end of hisflying tail and marking from the corner of his eye that the lobo stillgained vital inches at every leap. The horseman to his left shot over a hill and disappeared into thehollow beyond--he would be a scant hundred yards away when Alcatrazraced by, if indeed he could keep beyond reach of the wolf as long asthis. And that was more than doubtful--impossible! For the grey streakhad shot from behind until it now was at his tail, at his flank, withred tongue lolling and the sound of its panting audible. Half a minutemore and it would be in front and heading him, and when he whirled thecreature would spring. And so it happened. The killer swept to the front and snapped--atthe flash of the teeth Alcatraz wheeled, saw the monster leave theground--and then a limp weight struck his shoulder and rolled heavilyback to the ground; but not until he had straightened away on his newcourse did Alcatraz hear the report of the rifle, so much had thebullet outdistanced the sound. He looked back. Red Perris sat in his saddle with the rifle coming slowly down fromhis shoulder. The lofer wolf lay with a smear of red across one sideof his head. Then a hill rose behind the stallion and shut off hisview. He brought down his gait to a stumbling canter for now a greatweakness was pouring through his legs and his heart fluttered andtrembled like the heart of a yearling when it first feels the strainand burn of the rope. He was saved, but by how small a margin! He wassaved, but in his mind grew another problem. Why had the Great Enemychosen to kill the wolf and spare the horse? And how great was hisgreatness who could strike down from afar that king of flesh-eaters inthe very moment of a kill! But he knew, very clearly, that he had beenin the hollow of the man's hand and had been spared; and that he hadbeen rescued from certain death; was not the scent of the wolf's peltstill in his nostrils as the creature had leaped? He came to the brook and snorted in wonder. In a sane moment he wouldnever have attempted that leap. For that matter, perhaps, no otherhorse between the seas would have ever dreamed of the effort. Alcatrazheaded up the stream for a narrow place, shaking his head at the roarof the current. CHAPTER XXIV THE CRISIS When he found a place where he could jump the Little Smoky he pickedup his mares again and led them straight north, accepting theirwhinnies of congratulation with a careless toss of his head as thoughonly women-folk would bother to think of such small matters. He had adefinite purpose, now. He had had enough of the Valley of the Eagleswith its haunting lobos and its cunning human hunters. And he chosefor exit the caņon of the Little Smoky itself. For there were manyblind ravines pocketing the sides of the Valley of the Eagles, but thelittle Smoky would lead him straight to the summits. He looked backas he reached the mouth of the gorge, filled with the murmur of therain-swollen waters. Perris was drifting towards them. And Alcatraztossed his head and struck into a canter. It was a precaution which he never abandoned, for while the GreatEnemy was most to be feared, there were other human foes and such anarrow-throated gorge as this would ideally serve them as a trap. Heshortened his lope so as to be ready to whirl away as he came to thefirst winding between the rugged walls of the valley--but the groundwas clear before him and calling up his lagging herd, he made ontowards a sound of falling water ahead. It was a new sound to Alcatrazin that place, for he remembered no cataract in this gorge. But everywater-course had been greatly changed since the rains began, and whocould tell what alterations had occurred here? Who, indeed, could have guessed it? For as he swung about the nextbend he was confronted by a sheer wall of rock over which the fallingtorrent of the Little Smoky was churned to white spray by projectingfragments. Far above, the side of the mountain was still marked by araw wound where the landslide had swept, cutting deeper and deeper, until it choked the narrow ravine with an incalculable mass of sand, crushed trees, and a rubble of broken stone. It had dammed the LittleSmoky, but soon topping the obstruction, the river now poured over thecrest and filled the valley with a noise of rushing and shouting socaught up by echoes that Alcatraz seemed to be standing inside a wholecircle of invisible waterfalls. He wondered at that sight for only an instant; then, as the meaningdrove home to him, he wheeled and raced down the valley. This was theexplanation of the Enemy's move towards the throat of the caņon! He passed the mares like a red streak of light, his ears flagging backand his tail swept out straight behind by the wind of his gallop. Herushed about the next turn of the cliff and saw that the race had beenin vain--the Great Enemy was spurring his reeling cowpony into themouth of the Little Smoky gap! The chestnut made his calculations without slackening his pace. Theman was in the valley, but he had not yet reached that narrow throatwhere his lariat was of sufficient radius to cover the space betweenthe wall of the caņon and the stream. However, he was in excellentposition to maneuver for a throw in case Alcatraz tried to slip by. Therefore he now brought his pony to a slow lope, and loosening hisrope, he swung the noose in a wide circle; he was ready to plunge toeither side and cast the lariat. Being nearer to the river than to the caņon wall it was in the latterdirection that the stallion found the wider free space and towards it, accordingly, he directed his flight, running as he had only run whenthe lofer wolf dogged his heels. It was only a feint. His eye wastoo keen in the calculation of distances and relative speeds not torealize that the cowpony would beat him to the goal, yet he kept uphis furious pace even when Perris had checked his horse to a trot. Straight on swept Alcatraz until he saw the glitter of the hunter'seyes beneath the wide brim of his sombrero--then he braced his legs, knocking up a small shower of sand and rocks, swerved to the left, andbolted for the river bank. Even as he made the move, though blinded by the fierceness of his owneffort, he knew that it would be a tight squeeze. Had the pony underPerris possessed half of its ordinary speed of foot it would easilyhave headed the fugitive or at the least brought its rider inrope-throw, now, outworn by the long trail it had followed, the littleanimal stumbled and almost fell when Perris with iron hand swung itaround. That blunder lost fatal yards, but still it did its honestbest. It was a veteran of many a round-up. No pony in the arduouswork of cutting out was surer of eye or quicker of foot, and now thisdodging back and forth brought a gleam into the bronco's eyes. Therewas no need of the goading spur of Perris to make it spring forth atfull speed, running on nerve-power in place of the sapped strength ofmuscle. The stumble had given Alcatraz a fighting chance for his freedom--thatwas all. He recognized the flying peril as he raced in a wide lopingsemicircle. If the river were twenty yards further off he, running twofeet to the cowpony's one, would brush through safely, but as it wasno one could tell. He knew the reach of a lariat as well as a man;had not Cordova tormented him devilishly with one time and again?Estimating the speed of his approaching enemy and the reach of therope he felt that he could still gain freedom--unless luck was againsthim. The burst of Alcatraz for the river and safety was a remarkableexplosion of energy. Out of the corner of his reddening eye, as hegained swift impetus after his swerve, he saw the cowpony wheel, falter, and then burst across in pursuit to close the gap. He heeledover to the left, and found a mysterious source of energy within himthat enabled his speed to be increased, until, at the top of hisracing gait, he reached the very verge of the stream. There remainednothing now but a straight dash for freedom. Luck favored him in one respect at least. The swollen current of theLittle Smoky had eaten away its banks so that there was a sheer drop, straight as a cliff in most places, to the water, and the cliff-edgeabove was solidly compacted sand and gravel. A better race-track couldhardly have been asked and the heart of Alcatraz swelled with hope ashe saw the ground spin back behind him. Red Perris, too, shouting likea mad man as he spurred in, realized that his opportunity was slippingthrough his fingers. For now, though far away, he swung his rope in astiffly horizontal circle about his head. The time had come. Straightbefore him shot the red streak of the stallion; and leaning in hissaddle to give greater length to the cast he made the throw. It failed. Even as the noose whirled above him Alcatraz knew the castwould fall short. An instant later, falling, it slapped against hisshoulder and he was through the gap free! But at the contact of thatdreaded lariat instinct forced him to do what reason told him wasunneeded--he veered some vital inches off towards the edge of thebank. Thereby his triumph was undone! The gravel which made so good afooting was, after all, a brittle support and now, under his poundinghoofs, the whole side of the bank gave way. A squeal of terror brokefrom Alcatraz. He swerved sharply in, but it was too late. The veryeffort to change direction brought a greater weight upon his rearhoofs and now they crushed down through flying gravel and sand. Hefaced straight in, pawing the yielding bank with his forehoofs andsuspended over the roar of the torrent. It was like striving to climba hill of quicksand. The greater his struggle the more swiftly thetreacherous soil melted under his pounding hoofs. Last of all, he heard a yell of horror from the Great Enemy and sawthe hands of the man go up before his eyes to shut out the sight. ThenAlcatraz pitched back into thin air. He caught one glimpse of the wildly blowing storm-clouds above him, then he crashed with stinging force into the water below. CHAPTER XXV THE LITTLE SMOKY Pure madness poured into the brain of Red Perris as he saw the fall. Here, then was the end of the trail, and that great battle would neverbe fought. Groaning he rode to the bank of the stream, mechanicallygathering up the rope as he went. He saw below him nothing but the rush of water, white riffles showingits speed. An occasional dark steak whirled past--the trunks of treeswhich the Little Smoky had chewed away from their foothold on itssides. Doubtless one of these burly missiles had struck and instantlykilled the stallion. But no, yonder his head broke above the surface--a great log flungpast him, missing the goal by inches--a whirl in the current rolledhim under, --but up he came again, swimming gallantly. The selfish ragewhich had consumed Red Perris broke out in words. Down the bank hetrotted the buckskin, shaking his fist at Alcatraz and pouring thestream of his curses at that devoted head. Was this the reward oflabor, the reward of pain and patience through all the weeks, thesleepless nights, the weary days? "Drown, and be damned!" shouted Red Perris, and as if in answer, thebody of the stallion rose miraculously from the stream and the huntergasped his incredulity. Alcatraz was facing up stream, half his bodyabove the surface. The explanation was simple. At this point the Little Smoky abated itsspeed a little and had dropped a load of rolling stones and sand. Anhour later it might be washed away, but now it made a strong bankwith the current skimming above the surface. On this the stallion hadstruck, and whirling with the current he faced towards the source ofthe valley and looked into the volleying waters. Here, surely, was asight to make a weakling tremble. But to the astonishment of Perris, he saw the head of the stallion raised, and the next moment thethunder of his neigh rang high above the voices of the river, asthough he bade defiance to his destroyer, as though he called on theGod of Gods to bear witness that he died without fear. "By the Eternal!" breathed Red Perris, smitten with awe, and the nextinstant, the ground giving way beneath him, Alcatraz was bowled overand over, only to come up again farther down the stream. He turned his head. Far away he made out a line of horsemen--grey, ghostly figures miles away. Hervey was keeping to his word, then. But the thought of his own danger did not hold Red Jim Perris for amoment. Down there in the thundering water Alcatraz was dying! The heart of Red Perris went out to the dauntless chestnut. He spurreddown the bank until he was even with the struggler. He swayed far out, riding the mustang so near the brink that the poor creatureshuddered. He capped his hands about his lips and the hunter screamedencouragement to the hunted, yelled advice, shrieked his warnings whentreetrunks hurtled from behind. It seemed to Red Perris that Alcatraz was not a brute beast but a soulabout to perish. So much do brave men love courage! Then he saw, ahundred yards away, that the bank of the stream fell away until itbecame a gradually shoaling beach to the water edge. With a shout ofhope he raced to this point of vantage and flung himself from thesaddle. Then, grasping the rope, he ran into the stream until itfoamed with staggering force about his hips. But would Alcatraz live among those sweeping treetrunks and comewithin casting distance of the rope? Even if he did, would the ropecatch around that head of which only the nose and eyes were showing?Even if it caught could the stallion be drawn to shoal water withoutbeing strangled by the slip-knot? Had Perris been a calm man he wouldhave discarded the thousandth chance which remained after all of thesepossibilities. He would have looked, instead, to his cowpony which wasnow cantering away towards liberty in the rear of the flying squadronof mares. But Perris saw and lived for only one thing. Down came that brave head, but now with the ears flattened, for in thefury of the river his strength was being rapidly exhausted. Down thecurrent it came, momentarily nearer but always with dangers shootingabout it. Even while Perris looked, a great tree from which thebranches had not yet been stripped rushed from behind. The hunter'syell of alarm was drowned by the thousand voices of the Little Smoky, and over that head the danger swept. Red Perris closed his eyes and his head fell, but when he lookedagain the tree was far down stream and the stallion still swam inthe central current, but now near, very near. Only the slender outerbranches could have struck him, and these with barely sufficient forceto drive him under. Perris strode still further into the wild water until it foamed abouthis waist, and stretching out his arms he called to the stallion. Had he possessed ten times the power of voice he could not have madehimself heard above the rioting of the Little Smoky but his gesturecould be seen, and even a dumb beast could understand it. Thechestnut, at least, comprehended for to the joy of Perris he now sawthose gallant ears come forward again, and turning as well as hecould, Alcatraz swam stoutly for the shore. In the hour of need, theGreat Enemy had become his last hope. But his progress towards the sloping bank was small. For every inchhe fought to the bank the current carried him a foot down stream, yetthose inches gained in the lateral direction were every one priceless. Finally Perris swung the lariat and shot it through the air. Fair andtrue the circle struck above the head of the stallion and the huntershouted with hysterical triumph; a moment later he groaned as thecurrent whirled the rope over the head of Alcatraz and down stream. Yet he fought the hopeless fight. Staggering in the currents, beatenfrom his footing time and again, Perris stumbled down stream gatheringhis rope for a new cast as he went. Neither had the chestnut abandonedthe struggle. His last efforts had swerved him about and now he headedup stream with the water foaming about his red, distended nostrils;but still through the whipping spray his great eyes were fixed onPerris. As for the man, there was a prayer in the voice with which heshouted: "Alcatraz!" and hurled the rope again. Heavy with the water it had soaked up the noose splashed in a roughcircle around the head of the swimmer and then cut down into thewater. Hand over hand he drew in the slack, felt resistance, then ajar that toppled him from his foothold. The noose had indeed caughtaround the neck of the stallion, but the success threatened to be hisruin. Toppled head over heels in the rush of the Little Smoky, stillhis left hand gripped the rope and as he came gasping to the surfacehis feet struck and lodged strongly against the surface of a greatboulder. His one stroke of luck! He had no time to give thanks. The next moment the full weight of thetorrent on Alcatraz whipped the lariat quivering out of the water. Thehorse was struggling in the very center of the strongest current andthe tug on the arms of Perris made his shoulder sockets ache. Heendured that pain, praying that his hands would not slip on the wetrope. Then, little by little, he increased his pull until all thestrength of leg muscles, back, and arms was brought to bear. It seemedthat there was no result; Alcatraz did not change his position; butinch by inch the rope crept in to him; he at length could shift holds, whipping his right hand in advance of the left and tugging again. There was more rapid progress, now, but as the first frenzy of nervousenergy was dissipated, a tremor of exhaustion passed through his limbsand the beat of his heart redoubled until he was well-nigh stifled. True, the rope was coming in hand over hand, now, but another danger. The head of Alcatraz was sinking, his nostrils distended to thebursting point, his eyes red and bulging from their sockets. He wasbeing throttled by the grip of the slip knot; and an instant later hishead disappeared beneath the surface. Then all weakness passed from Red Perris; there was invigorating winein the air he breathed; a vast power clothed him suddenly and whilethe frenzy endured he drew Alcatraz swiftly in from the grippingcurrents and to the comparatively mild swirl of water where he stood. Wavering, distorted, and dim as an image in a dull mirror, he sawthe form of the horse float towards him beneath the water. Still thefrenzy was on him. It enabled him to spring from his place, tear thestrangling noose from the neck of the stallion, and lifting thatlifeless head in both hands struggle towards the shore. The waterbuoyed a weight which he could not otherwise have budged; he stumbledin the shoaling gravel to his knees, rose again lifting and straining, until blackness rushed across his eyes; and he pitched forward on hisface. He wakened in a whipping rain that stung the back of his neck and ashe propped himself on his arms he found that he had been lying acrossthe neck and shoulders of the stallion. That much of him, and theslender forelegs, was clear of the water. But had he not brought adead thing to land? He bent his cheek to the nostrils of Alcatraz, but he felt no breath. He came reeling to his knees and slid his hand beneath the water tothe heart of the horse; he felt no reassuring throb. Yet he could notbe sure that the end was indeed come, for the blood raged and surgedthrough his brain and waves of violent trembling passed over him sothat his sense of touch might well belie the truth. How long had helain unconscious--a minute or an hour? At least, he must try to get the body farther ashore. Alas, hisstrength hardly sufficed now to raise the head alone and when he madehis effort his legs crumpled beneath him. There he sat with the headof Alcatraz in his lap--he the hunter and this the hunted! There was small measure of religion in Red Perris but now, inhelplessness, he raised his trembling hands to the stormy grey of thesky above him. "God A'mighty, " said Red Perris, "I sure ain't done much to makeYou listen to me, but I got this to say: that if they's a call forsomething to die right now it ain't the hoss that's to blame. It's methat hounded him into the river. Alcatraz ain't any pet, but he's surelived according to his rights. Let him live and I'll let him go free. I got no right to him. I didn't make him. I never owned him. But lethim stand up on his four legs again; let me see him go galloping oncemore, the finest hoss that ever bucked a fool man out of the saddle, and I'll call it quits!" It was near to a prayer, if indeed this were not a prayer intruth. And glancing down to the head on his lap, he shivered withsuperstitious wonder. Alcatraz had unquestionably drawn a long andsighing breath. CHAPTER XXVI PARTNERS The recovery was no miracle. The strangling coil of rope which shutoff the wind of Alcatraz had also kept any water from passing into hislungs, and as the air now began to come back and the reviving oxygenreached his blood, his recovery was amazingly rapid. Before Perris hadceased wondering at the first audible breath the eyes of Alcatraz werelighted with flickering intelligence; then a snort of terror showedthat he realized his nearness to the Great Enemy. His very panic actedas a thrillingly powerful restorative. By the time Perris got weaklyto his feet, Alcatraz was lunging up the river bank scattering graveland small rocks behind him. And Perris made no attempt to throw the rope again. He allowed it tolie limp and wet on the gravel, but turning to watch that magnificentbody, shining from the river, he saw the lines of Hervey's hunterscoming swinging across the plain, riding to the limit of the speed oftheir horses. This was the end, then. In ten minutes, or less, they would be on him, and he without a gun in his hands! As though he saw the same approaching line of riders, Alcatraz whirledon the edge of the sand, but he did not turn to flee. Instead, helifted his head and turned his bright eyes on the Great Enemy, andstood there trembling at their nearness! The heart of Perris leaped. A great hope which he dared not frame in thought rushed through hismind, and he stepped slowly forward, his hand extended, his voicecaressing. The chestnut winced one step back, and then waited, snorting. There he waited, trembling with fear, chained by curiosity, and ready to leap away in arrowy flight should the sun wink on thetell-tale brightness of steel or the noosed rope dart whisperingthrough the air above him. But there was no such sign of danger. Theman came steadily on with his right hand stretched out palm up in theage-old token of amity, and as he approached he kept talking. Strangepower was in that voice to enter the ears of the stallion and find away to his heart of hearts. The fierce and joyous battle-note which hehad heard on the day of the great fight was gone and in its place wasa fiber of piercing gentleness. It thrilled Alcatraz as the touch ofthe man's fingers had thrilled him on another day. Now he was very near, yet Perris did not hurry, did not change thequiet of his words. By the nearness his face was become the dominantthing. What was there between the mountains so terrible and so gentle, so full of awe, of wisdom, and of beauty, as this human face? Behindthe eyes the outlaw horse saw the workings of that mystery which hadhaunted his still evenings in the desert--the mind. Far away the grey mare was neighing plaintively and the scared cowponytrailed in the distance wondering why these free creatures should comeso close to man, the enslaver; but to Alcatraz the herd was no morethan a growth of trees; nothing existed under the sky saving that handceaselessly outstretched towards him, and the steady murmur of thevoice. He began to wonder: what would happen if he waited until the fingertips were within a hair's-breadth of his nose? Surely there would beno danger, for even if the Great Enemy slid onto his back again hecould not stay, weak as Red Perris now was. Alcatraz winced, but without moving his feet; and when he straightenedthe finger tips touched the velvet of his nose. He stamped and snortedto frighten the hunter away but the hand moved dauntlessly high andhigher--it rested between his eyes--it passed across his head, alwayswith that faint tingle of pleasure trailing behind the touch; and thevoice was saying in broken tones: "Some damn fools say they ain't aGod! Some damn fools! Something for nothing. That's what He gives!Steady, boy: steady!" Between perfect fear and perfect pleasure, the stallion shuddered. Nowthe Great Enemy was beside him with a hand slipping down his neck. Whydid he not swerve and race away? What power chained him to the place?He jerked his head about and caught the shoulder of Perris in histeeth. He could crush through muscles and sinews and smash the bone. But the teeth of Alcatraz did not close for the hunter made no sign offear or pain. "You're considerable of an idiot, Alcatraz, but you don't know nobetter, " the voice was saying. "That's right, let go that hold. In theold days I'd of had my rope on you quicker'n a wink. But what good inthat? The hoss I love ain't a down-headed, mean-hearted man-killerlike you used to be; it's the Alcatraz that I've seen running freehere in the Valley of the Eagles. And if you come with me, you comefree and you stay free. I don't want to set no brand on you. If youstay it's because you like me, boy; and when you want to leave thecorral gate will be sure open. Are you coming along?" The fingers of that gentle hand had tangled in the mane of Alcatraz, drawing him softly forward. He braced his feet, snorting, his earsback. Instantly the pressure on his mane ceased. Alcatraz steppedforward. "By God, " breathed the man. "It's true! Alcatraz, old hoss, d'youthink I'd ever of tried to make a slave out of you if I'd guessed thatI could make you a partner?" Behind them, the rattle of volleying hoofs was sweeping closer. Therain had ceased. The air was a perfect calm, and the very grunt of theracing horses was faintly audible and the cursing of the men as theyurged their mounts forward. Towards that approaching fear, Alcatrazturned his head. They came as though they would run him into theriver. But what did it all mean? So long as one man stood beside him, he was shielded from the enmity of all other men. That had been trueeven in the regime of the dastardly Cordova. "Steady!" gasped Red Perris. "They're coming like bullets, Alcatraz, old timer! Steady!" One hand rested on the withers, the other on the back of the chestnut, and he raised himself gingerly up. Under the weight the stallionshrank catwise, aside and down. But there was no wrench of a curb inhis mouth, no biting of the cinches. In the old days of his colthood, a barelegged boy used to come into the pasture and jump on his bareback. His mind flashed back to that--the bare, brown legs. That wasbefore he had learned that men ride with leather and steel. He waited, holding himself strongly on leash, ready to turn loose his wholeassortment of tricks--but Perris slipped into place almost as lightlyas that dimly remembered boy in the pasture. To the side, that line of rushing riders was yelling and waving hats. And now the light winked and glimmered on naked guns. "Go!" whispered Perris at his ear. "Alcatraz!" And the flat of his hand slapped the stallion on the flank. Was notthat the old signal out of the pasture days, calling for a gallop? He started into a swinging canter. And a faint, half-choked cry ofpleasure from the lips of his rider tingled in his ears. For your bornhorseman reads his horse by the first buoyant moment, and what Red JimPerris read of the stallion surpassed his fondest dreams. A yell ofwonder rose from Hervey and his charging troop. They had seen Red Jimcome battered and exhausted from his struggle with the stallion theday before, and now he sat upon the bareback of the chestnut--amiracle! "Shoot!" yelled Hervey. "Shoot for the man. You can't hit the damnedhoss!" In answer, a volley blazed, but what they had seen was too much forthe nerves of even those hardy hunters and expert shots. The volleysang about the ears of Perris, but he was unscathed, while he feltAlcatraz gather beneath him and sweep into a racing pace, his earsflat, his neck extended. For he knew the meaning of that crashingfire. Fool that he had been not to guess. He who had battled with himthe day before, but battled without man's ordinary tools of torture;he who had saved him this very day from certain death in the water;this fellow of the flaming red hair, was in truth so different fromother men, that they hunted him, they hated him, and therefore theywere sending their waspish and invisible messengers of death afterhim. For his own safety, for the life of the man on his back, Alcatrazgave up his full speed. And Perris bowed low along the stallion's neck and cheered him on. Itwas incredible, this thing that was happening. They had reached topspeed, and yet the speed still increased. The chestnut seemed tosettle towards the earth as his stride lengthened. He was notgalloping. He was pouring himself over the ground with an endlesssuccession of smooth impulses. The wind of that running became a gale. The blown mane of Alcatraz whipped and cut at the face of Perris, andstill the chestnut drove swifter and swifter. He was cutting down the bank of the river which had nearly seen hisdeath a few moments before, striving to slip past the left flank ofHervey's men, and now the foreman, yelling his orders, changed hisline of battle, and the cowpunchers swung to the left to driveAlcatraz into the very river. The change of direction unsettled theiraim. It is hard at best to shoot from the back of a running horse atan object in swift motion; it is next to impossible when sharp ordersare being rattled forth. They fired as they galloped, but their shotsflew wild. In the meantime, they were closing the gap between them and theriver bank to shut off Alcatraz, but for every foot they covered thechestnut covered two, it seemed. He drove like a red lightning bolt, with the rider flattened on his back, shaking his fist back at thepursuers. "Pull up!" shouted Lew Hervey, in sudden realization that Alcatrazwould slip through the trap. "Pull up! And shoot for Perris! Pull up!" They obeyed, wrenching their horses to a halt, and as they drew themup, Red Jim, with a yell of triumph, straightened on the back of theflying horse and waved back to them. The next instant his shout ofdefiance was cut short by the bark of three rifles, as Hervey andShorty and Little Joe, having halted their horses, pitched their gunsto their shoulders and let blaze after the fugitive. There was a stingalong the shoulder of Perris as though a red hot knife had slashedhim; a bullet had grazed the skin. Ah, but they would have a hard target to strike, from now on! Thetrick which Alcatraz had learned in his own flights from the huntershe now brought back into play. He began to swerve from side to side ashe raced. Another volley roared from the cursing cowpunchers behind them, butevery bullet flew wide as the chestnut swerved. "Damn him!" yelled Lew Hervey. "Has the hoss put the charm on the hideof that skunk, too?" For in the fleeing form of Red Perris he saw all his hopes eludinghis grasp. With Red Jim escaped and his promise to the rancherunfulfilled, what would become of his permanent hold on Oliver Jordan?Ay, and Red Jim, once more in safety and mounted on that matchlesshorse, would swoop down on the Valley of the Eagles and strike tokill, again, again, and again! No wonder there was an agony shrill in the voice of the foreman as heshouted: "Once more!" Up went the shining barrels of the rifles, followed the swerving formof the horseman for a moment, and then, steadied to straight, gleaminglines, they fired at the same instant, as though in obedience to anunspoken order. And the form of Red Perris was knocked forward on the back ofAlcatraz! Some place in his body one of those bullets had struck. They saw himslide far to one side. They saw, while they shouted in triumph, thatAlcatraz instinctively shortened his pace to keep his slipping burdenfrom falling. "He's done!" yelled Hervey, and shoving his rifle back in its holster, he spurred again in the pursuit. But Red Perris was not done. Scrambling with his legs, tugging withhis arms, he drew himself into position and straightway collapsedalong the back of Alcatraz with both hands interwoven in the mane ofthe horse. And the stallion endured it! A shout of amazement burst from theforeman and his men. Alcatraz had tossed up his head, sent a ringingneigh of defiance floating behind him, and then struck again into hismatchless, smooth flowing gallop! Perhaps it was not so astonishing, after all, as some men could havetestified who have seen horses that are devils under spur and saddlebecome lambs when the steel and the leather they have learned to dreadare cast away. But all Alcatraz could understand, as his mind grasped vaguely towardsthe meaning of the strange affair, was that the strong, agile power onhis back had been suddenly destroyed. Red Perris was now a limp andhanging weight, something no longer to be feared, something to betreated, at will, with contempt. The very voice was changed and huskyas it called to him, close to his ear. And he no longer dared tododge, because at every swerve that limp burden slid far to one sideand dragged itself back with groans of agony. Then something warmtrickled down over his shoulder. He turned his head. From the breastof the rider a crimson trickle was running down over the chestnuthair, and it was blood. With the horror of it he shuddered. He must gallop gently, now, at a sufficient distance to keep therifles from speaking behind him, but slowly and softly enough tokeep the rider in his place. He swung towards the mares, running, frightened by the turmoil, in the distance. But a hand on his neckpressed him back in a different direction and down into the trailwhich led, eventually, to the ranch of Oliver Jordan. Let it be, then, as the man wished. He had known how to save a horse from the LittleSmoky. He would be wise enough to keep them both safe even from othermen, and so, along the trail towards the ranch, the chestnut ran witha gait as gentle as the swing and light fall of a ground swell inmid-ocean. CHAPTER XXVII THE END OF THE RACE Far behind him he could see the pursuers driving their horses at akilling gallop. He answered their spurt and held them safely in thedistance with the very slightest of efforts. All his care was givento picking out the easiest way, and avoiding jutting rocks and sharpturns which might unsettle the rider. Just as, in those dim olddays in the pasture, when the short brown legs of the boy could notencompass him enough to gain a secure grip, he used to halt gently, and turn gently, for fear of unseating the urchin. How far morecautious was his maneuvering now! Here on his back was the power whichhad saved him from the river. Here on his back was he whose trailingfingers had given him his first caress. He had no power of reason in his poor blind brain to teach him the whyand the wherefore. But he had that overmastering impulse which livesin every gentle-blooded horse--the great desire to serve. A mustangwould have been incapable of such a thing, but in Alcatraz flowed thepure strain of the thoroughbred, tracing back to the old desert stockwhere the horse lives in the tent of his master, the most cherishedmember of the family. There was in him dim knowledge of events throughwhich he himself had never passed. By the very lines of his bloodthere was bred in him a need for human affection and human care, justas there was bred in him the keen heart of the racer. And now he knewto the full that exquisite delight of service with the very life of ahelpless man given into his keeping. One ear he canted back to the pain-roughened voice which spoke at hisear. The voice was growing weaker and weaker, just as the grip of thelegs was decreasing, and the hands were tangled less firmly in hismane, but now the bright-colored buildings of the ranch appearedthrough the trees. They were passing between the deadly rows of barbedwire with far-off mutter of the pursuing horses beating at his ear andtelling him that all escape was cut off. Yet still the man held him tothe way through a mingling of trails thick with the scents of man, ofman-ridden horses. The burden on his back now slipped from side toside at every reach of his springy gallop. They came in sight of the ranch house itself. The failing voicerose for one instant into a hoarse cry of joy. Far behind, rose atriumphant echo of shouting. Yes, the trap was closed, and his onlyprotection from the men riding behind was this half-living creature onhis back. Out from the arched entrance to the patio ran a girl. She started backagainst the 'dobe wall of the house and threw up one hand as though amiracle had flashed across her vision. Alcatraz brought his canter toa trot that shook the loose body on his back, and then he was walkingreluctantly forward, for towards the girl the rider was directing himagainst all his own power of reason. She was crying out, now, in ashrill voice, and presently through the shadowy arch swung the figureof a big man on crutches, who shouted even as the girl had shouted. Oliver Jordan, reading through the lines of his foreman's letter, hadreturned to find out what was going wrong, and from his daughter'stale he had learned more than enough. Trembling at the nearness of these two human beings, but driven on bythe faint voice, and the guiding hands, Alcatraz passed shudderingunder the very arch of the patio entrance and so found himself oncemore--and forever--surrendered into the power of men! But the weak figure on his back had relaxed, and was sliding down. Hesaw the gate closing the patio swing to. He saw the girl run with acry and receive the bleeding body of Red Perris into her arms. He sawthe man on crutches swing towards them, exclaiming "--without even abridle! Marianne, he must have hypnotized that hoss!" "Oh, Dad, " the girl wailed, "if he dies--if he dies----" The eyes of Perris, where he lay on the flagging, opened wearily. "I'll live--I can't die! But Alcatraz ... Keep him from butcherHervey ... Keep him safe.... " Then his gaze fixed on the face of Oliver Jordan and his eyes widenedin amazement. "My father, " she said, as she cut away the shirt to get at the wound. "Him!" muttered Perris. "Partner, " said Oliver Jordan, wavering above the wounded man on hiscrutches, "what's done is done. " "Ay, " said Perris, smiling weakly, "if you're her father that trailis sure ended. Marianne--get hold of my hand--I'm going out again ... Keep Alcatraz safe.... " His eyes closed in a faint. Between the cook and Marianne they managed to carry the limp figure tothe shelter of the arcade just as Hervey and his men thundered up tothe closed gate of the patio, and there the foreman drew rein in acloud of dust and cursed his surprise at the sight of the ranchman. The group in the patio, and the shining form of Alcatraz, were selfexplanatory. His plans were ruined at the very verge of a triumph. Hehardly needed to hear the voice of Jordan saying: "I asked you to getrid of a gun-fighting killer--and you've tried to murder a _man_. Hervey, get out of the Valley and stay out if you're fond of a wholeskin!" And Hervey went. * * * * * There followed a strange time for Alcatraz. He could not be led fromthe patio. They could only take him by tying every hoof and dragginghim, and such force Marianne would not let the cowpunchers use. So dayafter day he roamed in that strange corral while men came and staredat him through the strong bars of the gate, but no one dared enterthe enclosure with the wild horse saving the girl alone, and even shecould not touch him. It was all very strange. And strangest of all was when the girl cameout of the door through which the master had been carried and lookedat Alcatraz, and wept. Every evening she came but she had no way ofanswering the anxious whinny with which he called for Red Jim again. Strange, too, was the hush which brooded over the house. Even thecowpunchers, when they came to the gate, talked softly. But still themaster did not come. Two weeks dragged on, weary weeks of waiting, andthen the door to the house opened and again they carried him out ona wicker couch, a pale and wasted figure, around whom the man on thecrutches and the girl and half a dozen cowpunchers gathered laughingand talking all at once. "Stand back from him, now, " ordered Marianne, "and watch Alcatraz. " So they drew away under the arcade and Alcatraz heard the voice of themaster calling weakly. It was not well that the others should be so near. For how could onetell from what hand a rope might be thrown or in what hand a gun mightsuddenly flash? But still the voice called and Alcatraz went slowly, snorting his protest and suspicion, until he stood at the foot of thecouch and stretching forth his nose, still with his frightened glancefixed on the watchers, Alcatraz sniffed the hand of Red Jim. Itturned. It patted him gently. It drew his gaze away from the othersand into the eyes of this one man, the mysterious eyes whichunderstood so much. "A lone trail is right enough for a while, old boy, " Red Jim wassaying, "but in the end we need partners, a man and a woman and ahorse and a man. " And Alcatraz, feeling the trail of the finger tips across the velvetskin of his muzzle, agreed. THE END.