It was as though the mind of the man had sent an
electric current down the reins and told her his thought. Now she
floundered at her foot, struck a loose stone, now she veered sharply and
wide to escape a boulder, now she cleared a gulley with a long leap, and
riding high as he was, bent forward out of balance to escape observation
from below. It was only a miracle of horsemanship that kept her from
breaking her neck as they lurched down the pitch. Grey Molly seemed to be
carrying no weight, only a clinging intelligence.
At this speed he was sure to reach the valley safely in front unless the
posse caught sight of him on the way and gave chase, and Barry counted on
that instinct in hunting men which makes them keep their eyes low--the same
sense which leads a searcher to look first under the bed and last of all at
the wall and ceiling. Once more, as he neared his goal, he looked back and
down, and there came the six horsemen, their quirts swinging, their
hat-brims blown straight up they raced at full speed. They had seen the
gray and they rode for blood.
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