Barry thrust his
feet deeper in the sand, leaned, buried both hands in the mane of the
stallion. It was a far fiercer tug-of-war this time, for the ample body of
the horse gave the water a greater surface to grapple on, yet the strength
of the man sufficed. His back bowed; his shoulders ached with the strain;
and then the forefeet of Satan pawed the sand, and all three staggered up
the shelving bank, reeled among the trees, and collapsed in safety.
So great was the roar of the water that they heard neither shouts nor the
reports of the guns, but for several minutes the bullets of the posse
combed the shrubbery as high as the breast of a man.
Chapter XXXVI. The Empty Cave
Through ten months of the year a child of ten could wade the Asper but now
its deep roaring that set the ground quivering under Barry gave him perfect
assurance of safety. Not one of that posse would attempt the crossing, he
felt, but he slipped back through the shrubbery close to the bank to make
sure. He was in time to see Mark Retherton give a command with gestures
that sent reluctant guns into the holsters.
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