Molly sat back on her haunches, braced her
forelegs, and went down like an avalanche. Over the rush and roar of the
pebbles, over the yell of wonder from the pursuers, she heard the voice of
her rider, a clear and steady voice, and the tautened reins telegraphed to
her bewildered mind the wish of the man. She struck the level with stunning
force, toppled, nearly fell, and then straightened along her course in a
staggering gallop. Started from its nice balance by the rush of stones
they loosened, a ten-ton rock came toppling after, leaped up from the
valley floor like a live thing, and then thundered away towards the river.
Grey Molly, finding her legs once more, tried the level going. She had
beaten the same horses before under the crushing impost of Gregg's weight.
With this lighter rider who clung like a part of her, who gave perfectly to
the rhythm of her gallop, she fairly walked away from the posse. Once,
twice and again the gun spoke from the hand of Pete Glass, but it was the
taking of a long last chance rather than a sign of closing on his chase.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108