but
their thoughts were fully occupied. The sound of the distant stampede had
become a veritable rumbling roar that told of its nearing proximity. Aside
from this drumming of many feet, there was no sound, for the animals of
the range when in the grip of panic are silent.
With glazed eyes and muscles strained to the utmost they thundered into
the dark, unconscious and heedless of the sure destruction in their path.
It was as though thousands of creatures, with their brains removed, had
been turned loose to run at will.
"To the river!" cried the masked man, suddenly panic-stricken, spurring
his horse in the direction of the stream.
But Larkin was at his heels, and in a moment had seized the other's bridle
and thrown the horse back on his haunches.
"No!" bawled he at the top of his voice. "The bank here is twenty feet
high, and at the bottom are rocks."
"Better a jump and a chance than sure death in the stampede," yelled the
stranger, but Bud would not yield and drew the horse back.
"We can divide the herd," he cried. "Come, we haven't a moment to lose!"
They wheeled as one and dashed out of the brush into the open of the
range. The earth was now trembling beneath them and the pounding feet
sounded a low, steady note, ominous with warning. Occasionally there was a
revolver shot, but this was the only other sound.
Straight toward the oncoming living avalanche the two men rode until they
had left an open space a hundred yards wide behind them. Then they pulled
up short and dismounted.
Now out of the threatening thunder sounded a single individual note, the
rapid beating of a horse's feet--some horse that was bearing a desperate
rider ahead of the stampede but powerless to avoid it.
Instantly Larkin saw the picture of the yawning precipice toward which the
frantic rider was hurrying at breakneck speed. He raised his revolver and
fired into the air. The signal was instantly acted on, for in another
moment a lathering, heaving pony dashed up to them, and the rider leaped
to the ground.
"Oh, what shall I do? Hello! Who are you?" cried a female voice, and
Larkin's heart leaped as though it had turned over in its place.
"Juliet!" he cried, seizing the girl with one arm and drawing her close.
"Bud!" For an instant she clung to him.
"Lead the horses together and shoot them!" he ordered, although the others
could scarcely hear him.
Every instant was priceless now, for dimly at the edge of their vision
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