"They're ours," whispered Waldron. "Steady, boys. Gus, get your rope, get
ready!"
Gus tossed the noose a little wider, and gathered himself for the throw,
but it seemed as if the wolf saw or heard the movement. He stopped suddenly
and stood with his head high; behind him the rider checked the black horse;
all three waited.
"He's tryin' to get the wind," chuckled Waldron, "but the wind is ag'in'
our faces!"
It was only a slight breeze, but it came directly against the lurking
three; and moreover the scent of the sage was particularly keen at this
time of the day, and quite sufficient to blur the scent of man even in the
keen nostrils of Black Bart. Only for a second or so he stood there
sniffing the wind, a huge animal, larger than any wolf the three had ever
seen; his face wise in a certain bear-like fashion from the three gray
marks in the center of his forehead. Now he trotted ahead, and the stallion
broke into a gallop behind.
"My God," whispered Sliver to Gus, "don't spoil that hoss when you daub the
rope on him! Look at that action; like runnin' water!"
They came more rapidly.
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