life or freedom, not for a moment did Black Eagle
show more than imperative caution. At the close of each day when, by a
few miles of judicious galloping, he had fully winded the cowboy's
mount, the sagacious black would circle to the rear of his pursuer and
often, in the gloom of early night, walk recklessly near to the camp of
his enemy just for the sake of sniffing curiously. But each morning, as
the cowboy cooked his scant breakfast, he would see, standing a few
hundred rods away, Black Eagle, patiently waiting for the chase to be
resumed.

Day after day was the hunted black called upon to foil a new ruse.
Sometimes it was a game of hide and seek among the buttes, and again it
was an early morning sally by the cowboy.

Once during a mid-day stop the dun mustang was turned out to graze.
Black Eagle followed suit. A half mile to windward he could see the cow
pony, and beside it, evidently sitting with his back toward his quarry,
the cowboy. For a half hour, perhaps, all was peace and serenity. Then,
as a cougar springing from his lair, there blazed out of the bushes on
the bank of a dry water-course to leeward a rifle shot.

Black Eagle felt a shock that stretched him on the grass. There arrived
a stinging at the top of his right shoulder and a numbing sensation all
along his backbone. Madly he struggled to get on his feet, but he could
do no more than raise his fore quarters on his knees. As he did so he
saw running toward him from the bushes, coatless and hatless, his
relentless pursuer. Black Eagle had been tricked. The figure by the
distant mustang then, was only a dummy. He had been shot from ambush.
Human strategy had won.

With one last desperate effort, which sent the red blood spurting from
the bullet hole in his shoulder, Black Eagle heaved himself up until he
sat on his haunches, braced by his fore-feet set wide apart.

Then, just as the cowboy brought his rifle into position for the
finishing shot, the stallion threw up his handsome head, his big eyes
blazing like two stars, and looked defiantly at his enemy.

Slowly, steadily the cowboy took aim at the sleek black breast behind
which beat the brave heart of the wild thoroughbred. With finger
touching the trigger he glanced over the sights and looked into those
big, bold eyes. For a full minute man and horse faced each other thus.
Then the cowboy, in an uncertain, hesitating manner, lowered his rifle.
Calmly Black Eagle waited. But the expected shot