. Could any horse foaled of a mare climb that crag and
bear his rider to safety, for this was the double, doubtful issue?

When, a moment later, the soldiers caught sight of the Black Colonel
they halted in mute surprise, then shouted, as a dog barks on sight of
a quarry, the killing instinct in man and beast finding tongue. It was
instantly a gamble of the pursued and the pursuers, to escape or to
capture, the keenest yet least noble game which can be played, that
with a human life for the prize. The Black Colonel, a man with a
bar-sinister, but a remarkable man, was the hunted, and two companies
of King George's soldiers, decent fellows enough each man of them, were
the hunters. The outcome depended chiefly on a horse, but such a
horse, Mack!

The King's word had gone round the countryside that our rebel and
canteran was to be taken alive or dead. That is a mandate which loses
its dividing line when the guns begin to shoot. Therefore, while the
soldiers shouted, on getting sight of the Black Colonel, they also
began to fire wildly at him. The immediate range was too far for harm
to hit him, but it would shorten swiftly enough. Realizing this, he
stretched himself along his horse's neck, thus showing a smaller
target, and, as I felt sure, whispering words of encouragement into the
great creature's ear.

The tradition is that the Black Colonel used his dirk for spur on that
ride, but I, who was a witness, know better. He did not need to use
it, and would not have done so in any event, loving Mack as he did.
His soft Gaelic whisper of bidding was his only spur, and up, up,
slowly, yet surely, went the gallant animal. Ah! you should have seen
it all. It was fine.

Mack's shapely, muscular body was stretched like whip-cord against the
dull grey of the broken precipice. You could fancy you heard the very
cracking of his sinews as he rose foot by foot. The reins lay on his
neck, and I saw the Black Colonel slip oft the bridle, with its heavy
iron bit, to give him the uttermost chance. The rivulet of stones
which his hoofs had set going grew into a stream, telling me that,
while ever he lost a little on the treacherous ground, he more than
made it good with the next stride.

The sight so moved me that I nearly shouted in admiration and quite
forgot the pursuers. The soldiers in the hollow of the Pass had met
and were loading and shooting with a certain discipline. The Black
Colonel's real danger, however