n his hand, he
read the inscription: "To Race Moran from his friends of the Murray Hill
Club."

CHAPTER XXI

WITH BARE HANDS AT LAST

In after years, when Wade tried to recall that mad ride, he found it
only a vague blur upon his memory. He was conscious only of the fact
that he had traveled at a speed which, in saner moments, he would have
considered suicidal. Urging the big black over the rougher ground of the
higher levels, he rode like a maniac, without regard for his own life
and without mercy for the magnificent horse beneath him. Time and again
the gelding stumbled on the rocky footing and almost fell, only to be
urged to further efforts by his rider.

Five miles out of Crawling Water, the cattleman thought of a short-cut,
through a little used timber-trail, which would save him several miles;
but it was crossed by a ravine cut by a winter avalanche like the slash
of a gigantic knife. To descend into this ravine and ascend on the
farther side would be a tortuous process, which would take more time
than to continue by the longer route. But if the gelding could jump the
narrow cleft in the trail, the distance saved might decide the issue
with Moran. On the other hand, if the leap of the horse was short,
practically certain death must befall both animal and rider.

Wade decided, in his reckless mood, that the chance was worth taking and
he rode the black to the edge of the cleft, where trembling with
nervousness, the animal refused the leap. Cursing furiously, Wade drove
him at it again, and again the gelding balked. But at the third try he
rose to the prick of the spurs and took the jump. The horse's forelegs
caught in perilous footing and the struggling, slipping animal snorted
in terror, but the ranchman had allowed the impulse of the leap to carry
him clear of his saddle. Quickly twisting the bridle reins around one
wrist, he seized the horse's mane with his free hand, and helped by the
violent efforts the animal made, succeeded in pulling him up to a firmer
footing. For some minutes afterward he had to soothe the splendid brute,
patting him and rubbing his trembling legs; then, with a grim expression
of triumph on his face, he resumed his journey. The chance had won!

There was less likelihood now that he would be too late, although the
thought that he might be so still made him urge the horse to the limit
of his speed. He kept his eyes fastened on a notch in the hills, which
marked the location