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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"The Seventh Man"

Toward the top of this eminence he
changed his lope for a skulking trot that brought his belly fur trailing on
the ground.
"They's somethin' ahead of us, Satan!" cried the master softly. "What could
that be? It's men, by the way Bart sneaks up to look at 'em. They's nothin'
else that he'd do that way for. Easy, boy, and go soft!"
The stallion cut his gallop into a slinking trot, his head lowered, even
his ears flat back, and glided up the hillside. Barry swung to the ground
and crawled to the top of the hill. What he saw was a dozen mounted men
swinging down into the low, broad scoop of ground beyond the hill. They
raced with their hatbrims standing stiff up in the wind.
"They've been watchin' us with glasses!" whispered Dan to Bart, and the
wolf-dog snarled savagely, his neck-fur ruffling up.
The dozen directly in front were not all, for to the right, bearing
straight across his original course, came another group almost as strong,
and to the left eight more riders spurred at top speed.
"We almost walked into 'em," said Barry, "but they ain't got us yet.


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