he gasped, starting back as if struck.
Then his mind leaped to conclusions. He did not need to see Blinky
approach him with hard sullen face. Hardman and outfit had timed the
wild-horse drive. No doubt they had participated in it, and meant to
profit by that, or worse, they meant to claim the drive, and by
superior numbers force that issue.
Such a terrible fury possessed Pan that he burned and shook all over.
He dropped his bridle and made a dragging step to meet Blinky. But so
great was his emotion that he had no physical control. He waited.
After that bursting of his heart, he slowly changed. This then was the
strange untoward thing that had haunted him. All the time fate had
held this horrible crisis in abeyance, waiting to crush at the last
moment his marvelous good fortune. That had been the doubt, the
misgiving, the inscrutable something which had opposed all Pan's
optimism, his hope, his love. An icy sickening misery convulsed him
for a moment. But that could not exist in the white heat of his wrath.
Blinky did not stride up to Pan. He hated this necessity. His will
was forcing his steps, and they were slow.
"Blink--Blink," whispered Pan, hoarsely. "It's come! That damned
hunch we feared, but wouldn't believe!"
"By Gawd, I--I couldn't hev told you," replied Blinky, just as
hoarsely. "An' it couldn't be worse."
"Blink--then we made a good haul?"
"Cowboy, nobody ever heerd of such a haul. We could moonshine wild
hosses fer a hundred years an' never ketch as many."
"How--many?" queried Pan, sharply, his voice breaking clear.
"Reckon we don't agree on figgerin' thet. I say fifteen hundred haid.
Your dad, who's aboot crazy, reckons two thousand. An' the other
fellars come in between."
"Fifteen hundred horses!" ejaculated Pan intensely. "Heavens, but it's
great!"
"Pan, I wish to Gawd we hadn't ketched any," declared Blinky, in hard
fierce voice.
That brought Pan back to earth.
"What's their game?" he asked swiftly, indicating the watching
whispering group.
"I had only a few words with Hardman. Your dad went out of his haid.
Reckon he'd have done fer Hardman with his bare hands, if Purcell
hadn't knocked him down with the butt of a gun."
Again there was a violent leap of Pan's blood. It jerked his whole
frame.
"Blink, did that big brute?--" asked Pan hoarsely, suddenly breaking
off.
"He shore did. Your dad's got a nasty knock over the eye.... No, I
hadn't a
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