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 equal pride, an equal
fierceness looking forth at him. Then he remembered
the six mares somewhere at the center of the guarding
circle which Alcatraz now drew. What a dauntless
courage was here in the brute mind which, knowing
the power of man, dared to rob him, to defy him!
Truly this was the king of horses meant for higher
ends than to serve as target 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; from that winged speed none could escape.
The back of Alcatraz might be a throne! He could
end all that boundless strength by one pressure of
his finger but was that indeed a true conquest?
It was calling to his aid 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 to witness!
It was madness, sheer madness; it was throwing away
the labor of the patient days of waiting and working;
but to Perris it seemed the only thing 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 down the hollow.
Before the stallion was out of sight, a cry rang down
the wind. It was chopped off by the crack of
a rifle, and Lew Hervey spurred from behind a neighboring
hill and plunged after Alcatraz pumping shot on shot
at the fugitive. In a frenzy Perris jerked his
own gun to the shoulder and drew down on the pursuer,
but the red anger cleared from his mind as he caught
the burly shoulders of Hervey in the sights. He
lowered the rifle with a grim feeling that he had never
before been so close to a murder.
A moment later he began to chuckle behind his set
teeth. No wonder they credited the chestnut with
a charmed life. As he raced away gaining a yard
at every leap, he swerved like a jackrabbit from side
to side. Perhaps the deadly hum of bullets on
many another chase had taught him this trick of dodging,
but beyond all doubt when Hervey returned to the ranch
that night he would have a tale of mystery. To
preserve his self-respect as a good marksman, what
else could he do?
In the meantime pursued and pursuer scurried out of
sight beyond a hill; the gun barked far away and the
echoes murmured lightly from the hollows. Then
Perris turned his back and trudged homewards.
