the seventh man-第33部分

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e　growing　up　behind　they　cantered　off　again　a　little　cast　of　north；　straight　for　Caswell　City。

There　was　little　work　for　Black　Bart　in　such　country　as　this；　for　there　was　rarely　a　rise　of　ground　over　which　a　man　on　horseback　could　not　look；　and　the　surface　was　race…track　fast。　Once　Satan　knew　the　direction　there　was　nothing　for　it　but　to　sit　the　saddle　and　let　him　work；　and　he　fell　into　his　long…distance　gait。　It　was　a　smart　pace　for　any　ordinary　animal　to　follow　through　half　a　day's　journey；　and　Barry　knew　with　perfect　certainty　that　there　was　not　the　slightest　chance　of　even　the　fresh　horses　behind　him　wearing　down　Satan　before　night；　but　to　his　astonishment　the　trailers　rode　as　if　they　had　limitless　horseflesh　at　their　command。　Perhaps　they　were　unaware　of　the　running　that　was　still　in　Satan；　so　Barry　sent　the　stallion　on　at　a　free　gallop　that　shunted　the　sagebrush　past　him　in　a　dizzy　whirl。

A　mile　of　this；　but　when　he　looked　back　the　posse　were　even　closer。　They　were　riding　still　with　the　spur！　It　was　madness；　but　it　was　not　his　part　to　worry　for　them；　and　it　was　necessary　that　he　maintain　at　least　this　interval；　so　he　leaned　a　little　forward　to　cut　the　wind　more　easily；　and　Satan　leaped　into　a　faster　pace。　He　had　several　distinct　advantages　over　the　mounts　of　the　posse。　At　their　customary　rolling　lope　they　will　travel　all　day　with　hardly　a　break；　but　they　have　neither　the　size　nor　the　length　of　leg　for　sustained　bursts　of　speed。　Moreover；　most　of　the　cowponies　who　now　raced　on　the　trail　of　Satan　carried　riders　who　outweighed　Barry　by　twenty　pounds　and　in　addition　to　this　they　were　burdened　by　saddles　made　ponderously　to　stand　the　strain　of　roping　cattle；　whereas　Barry's　specially　made　saddle　was　hardly　half　that　weight。　Perhaps　more　than　all　this；　the　cowponies　rode　by　compulsion；　urged　with　sharp　spurs；　checked　and　guided　by　the　jaw…breaking　curb；　whereas　Satan　frolicked　along　at　his　own　will；　or　at　least　at　the　will　of　a　master　which　was　one　with　his。　No　heavy　bit　worried　his　mouth；　no　pointed　steel　tormented　his　flanks。　He　had　only　one　handicapthe　weight　of　his　rider；　and　that　weight　was　balanced　and　distributed　with　the　care　of　a　perfect　horseman。

With　all　this　in　mind　it　was　hardly　wonderful　that　the　stallion　kept　the　posse　easily　in　play。　His　breathing　was　a　trifle　harder；　now；　and　perhaps　there　was　not　quite　the　same　light　spring　in　his　gallop；　but　Barry；　looking　back；　could　tell　by　the　tossing　heads　of　the　horses　which　followed　that　they　were　being　quickly　run　down　to　the　last　gasp。　Mile　after　mile　there　was　not　a　pause　in　that　murderous　pace；　and　then；　cutting　the　sky　with　a　row　of　sharply　pointed　roofs；　he　saw　a　town　straight　ahead　and　groaned　in　understanding。

It　was　rather　new　country　to　Barry；　but　the　posse　must　know　it　like　a　book。　They　were　spending　their　horses　freely　because　they　hoped　to　arrange　for　a　fresh　series　of　mounts　in　Wago。　However；　it　would　take　some　time　for　them　to　arrange　the　details　of　the　loan；　and　by　that　time　he　would　be　out　of　sight　among　the　hills　which　stretched　ahead。　That　would　give　him　a　sufficient　start；　and　he　would　make　the　fords　near　Caswell　City　comfortably　ahead。　At　Caswell　City；　indeed；　they　might　get　a　still　other　relay；　but　just　beyond　the　Asper　River　rose　the　Grizzly　Peakshis　own　country；　and　once　among　them　he　could　laugh　the　posse　to　scorn。

He　patted　Satan　on　the　shoulder　and　swept　on　at　redoubled　speed；　skirting　close　to　the　town；　while　the　posse　plunged　straight　into　it。

Listening　closely；　he　could　hear　their　shouts　as　they　entered　the　village；　could　mark　the　cessation　of　their　hoof…beats。

Ten　minutes；　five　minutes　at　least　for　the　change　of　horses；　and　that　time　would　put　him　safety　among　the　hills。

But　the　impossible　happened。　There　was　no　pause　of　minutes；　hardly　a　pause　of　seconds；　when　the　rush　of　hoofbeats　began　again　and　poured　out　from　the　town；　fifteen　desperate　riders　on　fifteen　fresh　mounts。　By　some　miracle　Wago　had　been　warned　and　the　needed　horses　had　been　kept　there　saddled　and　ready　for　the　relay。

It　turned　an　easy　escape　into　a　close　chance；　but　still　his　faith　in　Satan　was　boundless　to　reach　the　fords　in　time；　and　the　safety　of　the　mountains　beyond。　Another　word；　and　with　a　snort　the　great…hearted　stallion　swept　up　the　slope；　with　Black　Bart　at　his　old　work；　skirting　ahead　and　choosing　the　easiest　way。　That　was　another　great　handicap　in　favor　of　the　fugitive；　and　every　advantage　counted　with　redoubled　significance　now；　every　foot　of　distance　saved；　every　inch　of　climb　avoided。

A　new　obstacle　confronted　him；　for　the　low；　rolling　hills　were　everywhere　checkered　with　squares　and　oblongs　of　plowed　ground；　freshly　turned；　and　guarded　by　tall　fences　of　barbed…wire。　They　could　be　jumped；　but　jumping　was　no　easy　matter　for　a　tiring　horse；　and　Barry　saw；　with　a　sigh　of　relief；　a　sharp　gulch　to　the　left　which　cut　straight　through　that　region　of　broken　farms　and　headed　north　and　east　pointing　like　an　arrow　in　the　direction　of　the　fords。　He　swung　down　into　it　without　a　thought　and　pressed　on。　The　bottom　was　gravelly；　here　and　there；　from　the　effect　of　the　waters　which　had　once　washed　through　the　ravine　and　cut　these　sides　so　straight；　but　over　the　greater　part　of　the　bottom　sand　had　drifted；　and　the　going　was　hardly　worse　than　the　hilly　stretches　above。

The　sides　grew　higher；　now；　with　great　rapidity。　Already　they　were　up　to　the　shoulder　of　Satan；　now　up　to　his　withers；　and　from　behind　the　roar　of　the　posse　racing　at　full　speed；　filled　the　gulch　with　confusion　of　echoes。　They　must　be　racing　their　horses　as　if　they　were　entering　the　homestretch；　as　if　they　were　sure　of　the　goal。　It　was　strange。



Chapter　XXXIII。　The　Jump

He　brought　Satan　back　to　a　hand　canter；　and　so　he　pulled　around　the　next　curve　of　the　gulch　and　saw　the　trap　squarely　in　front。　He　came　to　a　full　halt。　For　he　saw　a　tall；　strong　barbed…wire　fence　stretching　across　the　stream…bed；　and　beyond　the　fence　were　a　litter　of　chicken…coops；　iron　bands　from　broken　barrels；　and　a　thousand　other　of　those　things　which　brand　the　typical　western　farm…yard；　above　the　top　of　the　bank　to　his　left　he　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　sharp　roof　of　the　house。

He　looked　back；　but　it　was　far　too　late　to　turn；　ride　down　the　ravine　to　a　place　where　the　bank　could　be　scaled；　and　cut　across　country　once　more。　The　posse　came　like　a　whirlwind；　yelling；　shooting　as　if　they　hoped　to　attract　attention；　and　attention　they　certainly　won；　for　now　Dan　saw　a　tall　middle…aged　fellow；　his　long　beard　blowing　over　one　shoulder　as　he　ran；　come　down　into　the　farm…yard　with　a　double…barreled　shotgun　in　his　hands。　He　was　a　type　of　those　who　do　not　know　what　it　is　to　miss　their　targetprobably　because　ammunition　comes　so　high；　and　with　a　double　load　of　buckshot　it　was　literally　death　to　come　within　his　range。

Dan　knew　that　a　great　many　chances　may　be　taken　against　a　revolver　and　even　a　rifle　can　be　tricked；　but　it　is　suicide　to　flirt　with　a　shotgun　in　the　hands　of　one　used　to　bring　down　doves　as　they　sloped　out　of　the　air　toward　a　water…hole。　The　farmer　stood　with　his　broad…brimmed　straw　hat　pushed　far　back　on　his　head　looking　up　and　down　the　ravine；　a　perfect　target；　and　Barry's　hand　slipped　automatically　over　his　rifle。

His　fingers　refused　to　close　upon　it。

〃I　can't　do　it；　Satan；〃　he　whispered。　〃We　got　to　take　our　chances　of　gettin'　by；　that's　all。　He　couldn't　have　no　hand　with　Grey　Molly。〃

Narrow　chances　indeed；　by　this　time；　for　the　brief　pause　had　brought　the　posse　fairly　upon　his　heels；　the　farmer　saw　the　fugitive　and　brought　his　shotgun　to　the　ready；　and　Black　Bart　in　an　agony　of　impatience　raced　round　and　round　the　master。　A　wild　cheer　rose　from　the　posse　and　came　echoing　about　him；　they　had　sighted　their　quarry。　From　Rickett　to　Morgan　Hills；　from　Morgan　Hills　to　St。　Vincent；　from　St。　Vincent　to　Wago　and　far　beyond；　but　this　was　the　end　of　an　historic　run。

〃D'ye　see？〃　whispered　Barry；　leaning　close　to　Satan's　ears。　〃Lad；　d'ye　see　what　you've　got　to　do？〃

The　black　stood　with　his　head　very　high；　quivering　through　his　whole　body　while　he　eyed　the　fence。　It　was　murderously　high；　and　all　things　were　against　him；　the　long　run；　the　rise　of　the　ground　going　toward　the　fence；　and　the　gravel　from　which　he　must　take　off　for　the　jump。

〃You　can　do　it；〃　said　the　master。　〃You　got　to　do　it！　Go　for　it；　boy。　We　win　or　lose　together！〃

He　swayed　forward；　and　Satan　leaped　ahead　at　full　speed；　gathering　impetus；　scattering　the　gravel　on　either　side。　The　farmer　on　the　inside　of　the　fence　raised　his　shotgun　leisurely　to　his　shoulder　and　took　a　careful　aim。　He　knew　what　it　all　meant。　He　had　heard　of　the　outlaw；　Barry；　with　his　black　horse　and　his　wolf…dogeveryone　in　the　desert　had；　for　that　matter　and　even　had　he　been　ignorant　the　shouting　of　the　posse　which　now　raced　down　the　canyon　in　full　view　would　have　told　him　all　that　he　needed　to　know。　How　many　things　went　through　his　mind　while　he　squinted　down　the　gleaming　barrel！　He　thought　of　the　long　labor　on　the　farm　and　the　mortgage　which　still　ate　the　life　of　his　produce　every　year；　he　thought　of　the　narrow　bowed　shoulders　of　his　wife；　he　thought　of　the　meager　faces　of　his　children；　and　he　thought　first　and　last　of　ten　thousand　dollars　reward！　No　wonder　the　hand　which　supported　the　barrels　was　steady　as　an　iron　prop。　He　was　shooting　for　his　life　and　the　happiness　of　five　souls！

He　would　save　his　fire　till　he　literally　saw　the　white　of　the　enemy's　eyes：　until　the　outlaw　reached　the　fence；　No　horse　on　the　mountain…desert　could　top　that　highest　strand　of　wire　as　he　very　well　knew；　and　in　his　youth；　back　in　Kentucky；　he　had　ridden　hunters。　That　fence　came　exactly　to　the　top　of　his　head；　and　the　top　of　his　head　was　six　feet　and　two　inches　from　the　ground。　To　make　assurance　doubly　sure　he　dropped　upon　one　knee　and　made　that　shotgun　an　unstirring　part　and　portion　of　himself。

Nobly；　nobly　the　black　came　on；　his　ears　pricking　as　he　judged　the　great　task　and　his　head　carried　a　little　high　and　back　as　any　good　jumper　knows　his　head　must　be　carried。

The　practiced　eye　of　the　farmer　watched　the　outlaw　gather　his　horse　under　him。　Well　he　knew　the　meaning　of　that　shortening　grip　on　the　reins　to　give　the　horse　the　last　little　lift　that　might　mean　success　or　failure　in　the　jump