the seventh man-第34部分

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p　on　the　reins　to　give　the　horse　the　last　little　lift　that　might　mean　success　or　failure　in　the　jump。　Well　he　knew　that　rise　in　the　stirrups；　that　leaning　forward；　and　his　heart　rose　in　unison　and　went　back　to　the　blue　grass　of　Kentucky　glittering　in　the　sun。

Before　them　went　the　wolf…dog；　skimming　low；　reached　the　fence；　and　shot　over　it　in　a　graceful；　high…arched　curve。

Then　the　shout　of　the　rider：　〃Up！　Up！〃

And　the　stallion　reared　and　leaped。　He　seemed　to　graze　it　coming　up；　so　close　was　his　take…off　；　he　seemed　to　be　pawing　his　way　over　with　the　forefeet；　and　then　with　both　legs　doubled　close；　hugging　his　body；　he　shot　across　and　left　the　highest　strand　of　the　wire　quivering　and　humming。

The　farmer　hurled　his　best　shotgun　a　dozen　yards　away　and　threw　up　his　hat。

〃Go　it；　lad！　God　bless　ye；　and　good　luck！〃

The　hand　of　the　rider　lifted　in　mute　acknowledgment；　and　as　he　shot　past；　the　farmer　caught　a　glimpse　of　a　delicately　handsome　face　that　smiled　down　at　him。

〃The　left　gate！　The　left　gate！〃　he　shouted　through　his　cupped　hands；　and　as　the　fugitive　rushed　through　the　upper　gate　he　turned　to　face　the　posse　which　was　already　pulling　up　at　the　fence　and　drawing　their　wirecutters。

As　Barry　shot　out　onto　the　higher　ground　on　the　other　side　of　the　farmhouse　he　could　see　them　severing　the　wires　and　the　interruption　of　the　chase　would　be　only　a　matter　of　seconds。　But　seconds　counted　triply　now；　and　the　halt　and　the　time　they　would　spend　getting　up　impetus　all　told　in　favor　of　the　fugitive。

Thirty…five　miles；　or　thereabouts；　since　they　left　Rickett　that　morning；　and　still　the　black　ran　smoothly；　with　a　lilt　to　his　gallop。　Dan　Barry　lifted　his　head　and　his　whistling　soared　and　pulsed　and　filled　the　air。　It　made　Bart　come　back　to　him；　it　made　Satan　toss　his　head　and　glance　at　the　master　from　the　corner　of　his　bright　eye；　for　this　was　an　assurance　that　the　battle　was　over　and　the　rest　not　far　away。

On　they　drove；　straight　as　a　bird　flies　for　Caswell　City；　and　Black　Bart；　ranging　ahead　among　the　hills；　was　picking　the　way　once　more。　If　the　stallion　were　tired；　he　gave　no　sign　of　it。　The　sweep　of　his　stride　brushed　him　past　rocks　and　shrubs；　and　he　literally　flowed　uphill　and　down；　far　different　from　the　horses　which　scampered　in　his　rear；　for　they　pounded　the　earth　with　their　efforts；　grunting　under　the　weight　of　fifty　pound　saddles　and　heavy　riders。　Another　handicap　checked　them；　for　while　Satan　ran　on　alone；　freely；　the　bunched　pursuers　kept　a　continual　friction　back　and　forth。　The　leaders　reined　in　to　keep　back　with　the　mass　of　the　posse；　and　those　in　the　rear　by　dint　of　hard　spurring　would　rush　up　to　the　front　in　turn　until　some　spirited　nag　challenged　for　the　lead；　so　that　there　was　a　steady　interplay　among　the　fifteen。　Their　gait　at　the　best　could　not　be　more　than　the　pace；　of　their　slowest　member；　but　even　that　pace　was　diminished　by　the　difficulties　of　group　riding。　Yet　Mark　Retherton　refused　to　allow　his　men　to　scatter　and　stretch　out。　He　kept　them　in　hand　steadily；　a　bunched　unit　ready　to　strike　together；　for　he　had　seen　the　dead　body　of　Pete　Glass　and　he　kept　in　mind　a　picture　of　what　might　happen　if　this　fellow　should　whirl　and　pick　off　the　posse　man　by　man。　Better　prolong　the　run；　for　in　the　end　no　single　horse　could　stand　up　against　so　many　relays。　Yet　it　was　maddening　to　watch　the　stallion　float　over　hill　and　dale　with　that　same　unbroken　stride。

Once　and　again　he　sent　the　fresh　horses　from　Wago　after　the　fugitive　in　a　sprinting　burst；　but　each　time　the　black　drifted　farther　away；　and　mile　after　mile　Mark　Retherton　pulled　his　field　glasses　to　his　eyes　and　strained　his　vision　to　make　out　some　sign　of　labor　in　the　gait　of　Satan。　There　was　no　change。　His　head　was　still　high；　the　rhythm　of　his　lope　unfaltering。

But　here　the　Wago　Mountainsnot　more　than　ragged　hills；　to　be　surecut　across　the　path　of　the　outlaw　and　in　those　hills；　unless　the　message　which　waited　for　him　at　Wago　had　been　false；　should　be　the　men　of　Caswell　City；　two　score　or　more　besides　the　fifteen　fresh　horses　for　the　posse。　Two　score　of　men；　at　least；　Caswell　could　send　out；　and　from　the　heights　they　could　surely　detect　the　coming　of　Barry　and　plant　themselves　in　his　way。　An　ambush；　a　volley；　would　end　this　famous　ride。

The　hills　came　up　on　them　swiftly；　now；　and　if　the　men　of　Caswell　failed　in　their　duty　it　meant　safety　for　the　fugitive；　because　two　miles　beyond　were　the　willows　of　the　marshes　and　the　fords　across　the　Asper　River。　There　could　only　be　two　alternatives；　since　not　a　man　showed　on　the　hills。　Either　they　waited　in　ambush；　or　else　they　had　mistaken　the　route　along　which　Barry　would　come；　and　the　latter　was　hardly　possible。　With　his　glasses　Mark　Retherton　scanned　the　hills　anxiously　and　it　was　then　that　he　saw　the　dark　form　of　the　wolf…dog　skulking　on　before　the　outlaw。　He　had　watched　Black　Bart　before　this；　of　course；　but　never　with　suspicion　until　he　noted　the　peculiar　manner　in　which　the　animal　skirted　here　and　there　through　the　rough　ground；　pausing　on　high　places；　weaving　back　and　forth　across　the　course　of　his　master。

〃Like　a　scout；〃　thought　Retherton。　〃And　by　God；　there　he　comes　to　report！〃

For　Black　Bart　had　whirled　and　raced　straight　back　for　Dan。　There　was　no　need　of　howl　or　whine　to　give　the　reason　of　his　coming；　the　speed　of　his　running　meant　business；　and　Barry　shortened　the　pace　of　Satan　while　he　looked　over　the　hills；　incredulous；　despairing。

It　could　not　be　that　men　lurked　there　to　cut　him　off。　No　living　thing　could　have　raced　from　Rickett　to　Caswell　City　to　warn　them　of　his　coming。　Nevertheless；　there　came　Bart　with　the　ill　tidings；　and　it　only　remained　to　skirt　swiftly　east；　round　the　dangerous　ground；　and　strike　the　marshes　first。　He　swung　Satan　around　on　the　new　course　with　a　pressure　of　his　knees　and　loosed　him　into　a　freer　gallop。

They　must　have　sensed　the　meaning　of　this　maneuver　at　once；　for　hardly　had　he　stretched　out　east　when　voices　shouted　out　of　the　hills；　and　around　and　over　several　low　knolls　came　forty　horsemen；　racing。　Half　a　dozen　were　already　due　eastno　escape　that　way；　and　the　long　line　of　the　others　came　straight　at　him　with　the　slope　of　the　ground　to　give　them　velocity。



Chapter　XXXIV。　The　Warning

All　in　a　grim　instant　he　saw　the　trap。　It　closed　upon　his　consciousness　with　a　click；　and　as　he　doubled　Satan　around　he　knew　that　the　only　escape　was　in　running　southeast　along　the　banks　of　the　Asper。　Even　that　was　a　desperate；　a　forlorn　chance；　for　if　that　omnipotent　voice　could　reach　from　Rickett　to　Caswell　City；　fifty　miles　away；　certainly　it　must　have　warned　the　river　towns　of　Ganton　and　Wilsonville　and　Bly　Falls　where　Tucker　Creek　ran　into　the　Asper。　But　this　was　no　time　for　thinking。　Already；　looking　back；　he　saw　the　posse　changing　their　saddles　to　fifteen　fresh　mounts；　and　he　headed　Satan　across　the　Wago　Hills；　West　and　South。

It　was　hot　work。　Even　the　steel…wire　muscles　of　Black　Bart　were　weakening　under　the　tremendous　labors　of　that　day；　and　as　he　scouted　ahead　his　head　was　low　and　his　red　tongue　lolled；　and　surest　sign　of　all；　the　bushy　tail　drooped；　yet　it　was　time　to　make　a　new　call　upon　both　wolf…dog　and　horse；　for　the　posse　was　racing　after　him　as　before；　giving　even　the　fresh；　willing　mounts　the　urge　of　spurs　and　quirts。　He　ran　his　hand　down　the　dripping　neck　and　shoulder　of　Satan；　he　called　to　him；　and　with　a　snort　the　stallion　responded。　He　felt　the　quiver　as　the　muscles　tightened　for　the　work；　he　felt　the　settling　as　Satan　lengthened　to　racing　speed。

Through　the　Wago　Hills；　then；　with　Bart　picking　the　way　as　before；　and　never　a　falter　in　the　sweep　of　Satan's　running。　If　his　head　was　a　little　lower；　if　his　ears　lay　flat；　only　the　master　knew　the　meaning；　and　still；　when　he　spoke；　the　glistening　ears　pricked　up；　and　they　bounded　on　to　a　greater　speed　than　before。　The　flight　of　a　gull　on　unstirring　wings　when　the　wind　buoys　it；　the　glide　of　water　over　the　descent　of　smooth　rock；　with　never　a　ripple；　like　all　things　effortless；　swift；　and　free；　such　was　the　gait　of　Satan　as　he　fled。　Let　them　spur　the　fresh　horses　from　Caswell　City　till　their　flanks　dripped　red；　they　would　never　gain　on　him。

On　through　the　hills；　and　now　the　heave　of　his　great　breaths　told　of　the　strain；　down　like　an　arrow　into　the　rolling　ground；　and　now　they　galloped　beside　the　Asper　banks。　The　master　looked　darkly　upon　that　water。

Ten　days　before；　when　the　snows　had　not　yet　reached　the　climax　of　melting；　ten　days　later　when　that　climax　was　overpassed；　the　Asper　would　have　been　fordable；　but　now　a　brown　flood　stormed　along　the　gully；　ate　away　the　banks；　undermined　the　willows　here　and　there；　and　rolled　stones　larger　than　a　man　could　lift。　It　went　with　an　angry　shouting　as　if　it　defied　the　fugitive。　It　was　narrow；　maddeningly　narrow；　almost　small　enough　to　attempt　a　leap　across　to　the　safety　of　the　thickets　on　the　farther　side；　but　the　force　of　the　water　alone　was　enough　to　warn　the　bravest　swimmer　away；　and　here　and　there；　like　teeth　in　the　mouth　of　the　shark；　jagged　stones　cut　the　surface　with　white　foam　streaking　out　below　them；　as　if　to　prove　its　power；　even　while　Dan　turned　South　along　the　bank　a　dead　trunk　shot　down　the　stream　and　split　on　one　of　the　Asper's　teeth。

Even　then　he　felt　the　temptation。　There　lay　the　forest　on　the　farther　side；　a　forest　which　would　shelter　him；　and　above　the　forest；　hardly　a　mile　back；　began　the　Grizzly　Peaks。　They　lunged　straight　up　to　snowy　summits；　and　all　along　their　sides　blue　shadows　of　the　afternoon　drifted　through　a　network　of　ravinesa　promise　of　peace；　a　surety　of　safety　if　he　could　reach　that　labyrinth。

He　was　almost　glad　when　he　left　the　mockery　of　the　river's　noise　to　turn　aside　for　Ganton。　There　it　lay　in　a　bend　of　the　Asper　in　the　low…lands；　and　every　town　where　men　lived　was　an　enemy。　He　could　see　them　now　gathered　just　outside　the　village；　twenty　men；　perhaps　and　fifteen　spare　horses；　the　best　they　had；　for　the　posse。

On　past　Ganton；　and　again　a　call　upon　Satan　to　meet　the　first　spurt　of　the　posse　on　its　new　horses。　There　was　something　in　the　stallion　to　answer；　some　incredible　reserve　of　nerve　strength　and　courage。　There　was　a　slight　labor；　now；　and　something　of　the　same　heave　and　pitch　which　comes　in　the　gait　of　a　common　hors