No chance work with Barry, for he knew
the gait of Satan as a practized naval gunner knows the swing of his ship
in a smooth sea, and that circle of doom wavered over Johnny Gasney for a
dozen strides before Dan turned with a faint moan and jammed the rifle back
in its case. Once again he was balancing in his stirrups, leaning close to
cut the wind with his shoulders.
"I can't do it, Satan. I got nothin' agin them. They think they're playin'
square. I can't do it. Stretch out, old boy. Stretch out!" It seemed
impossible that the stallion could increase his exertions, but with that
low voice at his ear he did literally stretch along the ground and jerked
himself away from the pursuit like a tall ship when a new sail spreads in a
gale.
The men from St. Vincent saw that the game was lost. Every one of the eight
had his rifle at the shoulder and the bullets hissed everywhere about him.
Right into his face, but a greater distance away, rode the posse from
Rickett, the fifteen tried men and true; and having caught the scheme of
the trap they were killing their horses with a last effort.
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