vortex of furious horses must be there! Pan lost sight
of them for some moments. Then out of the yellow curtain streaked
black strings, traveling down the fence toward Pan, across the valley,
back up the way they had come. Pan let out a stentorian yell of
victory. He knew the action indicated that the horses had poured in a
mass into the apex between bluff and fence.

"_Whoopee!_" yelled Pan, to relieve his surcharged emotions. "It's a
sure bet we've got a bunch!"

Then he spurred Sorrel to meet the horses fleeing down along the fence.
They came in bunches, in lines, stringing for a mile or more along the
barrier of cedars.

Pan met them with yells and shouts. Frantic now, the animals wheeled
back. But few of them ran up out of the winding shallow ground along
which the fence had been cunningly built. He drove them back, up over
the slow ascent, toward the great dusty swarm of horses that ran
helter-skelter under the dust haze.

Suddenly Pan espied a black stallion racing toward him. He remembered
the horse. And the desire to capture this individual took strong hold
upon him. The advantage lay all with Pan. So he held back to stop
this stallion.

At the most favorable moment Pan spurred Sorrel to intercept the
stallion. But the black, maddened with terror and instinct to rage,
would not swerve out of Pan's way. On he came, swift as the wind, lean
black head out, mane flying, a wild creature at once beautiful and
fearful. Pan had to jerk Sorrel out of his way. Then Pan, having the
black between himself and the fence, turned Sorrel loose. The race
began--with Pan still holding the advantage. It did not, however, last
long that way. The black ran away from Pan. He wanted to shoot but
thought it best not to use his last shells. What a stride! He was a
big horse, too, ragged, rangy, with action and power that delighted
Pan. Knowing he could not catch the black Pan cut across toward the
wash. Then the stallion, seeing the yawning gulf ahead, turned toward
the fence, and quickening that marvelous stride he made a magnificent
leap right at the top of the obstruction. He cleared the heavy wood
and crashed through the branches to freedom.

"You black son-of-a-gun!" yelled Pan in sheer admiration, and halting
the sorrel he watched the stallion disappear.

Dust begrimed and wet, Pan once more headed toward the goal. His horse
was tired and so was he. Far as he could view in a fan-shaped spread,