hundred yards away, galloped
a rider on a black horse; yet Vic could have sworn that when he looked
back from the crest he had seen Gus riding the very last in the posse.
An instant later the illusion vanished, for the black horse of Gus was
never an animal such as this, never had this marvelous, long gait. Its
feet flicked the earth and shot it along with a reaching stride so easy,
so flowing that only the fluttered mane and the tail stretching straight
behind gave token of the speed. For the rest, it carried its head high,
with pricking ears, the sure sign of a horse running well within his
strength, yet Grey Molly, fresh and keen for racing, could hardly have
kept pace with the black as it slid over the hills. God in heaven, if
such a horse were his a thousand sheriffs on a thousand dusty roans
could never take him; five minutes would sweep him out of sight and
reach.

Before the horseman ran a tall dog, wolfish in head and wolfish in the
gait which carried it like a cloud shadow over the ground, but it was
over-large for any wolf Vic had ever seen. It turned its head now, and
leaped aside at sight of the stranger, but the rider veered from his
course and swept down on Vic. He came to a halt close up without either
a draw at the reins or a spoken word, probably controlling his mount
with pressure of the knees, and Gregg found himself facing a delicately
handsome fellow. He was neither cowpuncher nor miner, Vic knew at a
glance, for that face had never been haggard with labor. A tenderfoot,
probably, in spite of his dress, and Vic felt that if his right arm were
sound he could take that horse at the point of his gun and leave the
rider thanking God that his life had been spared; but his left hand
was useless on the butt of a revolver, and three minutes away came the
posse, racing. There was only time for one desperate appeal.

"Stranger," he burst out, "I'm follered. I got to have your hoss. Take
this one in exchange; it's the best I ever threw a leg over. Here's two
hundred bucks--" he flung his wallet on the ground and swung himself out
of the saddle.

The wolfish dog, which had growled softly all this time and roughed up
the hair of its neck, now slunk forward on its belly.

"Heel, Bart!" commanded the stranger sharply, and the dog whipped about
and stood away, whining with eagerness.

The moment Gregg's feet struck the ground his legs buckled like saplings
in a wind for the long ride had sapped his strength,