tling; he had two halters in one hand and with the other he led
his bay horse by the mane. Then Hare saw that he wore no belt; he was
unarmed; on the horses were only the halters and clinking hobbles. Hare
dropped his Colt back into its holster.

Dene sauntered on, whistling "Dixie." When he reached the trail, instead
of crossing it, as Hare had hoped, he turned into it and came down.

Hare swung the switch he had broken from an aspen and struck Silvermane
a stinging blow on the flanks. The gray leaped forward. The crash of
brush and rattle of hoofs stampeded Dene's horses in a twinkling. But
the outlaw paled to a ghastly white and seemed rooted to the trail. It
was not fear of a man or a horse that held Dene fixed; in his starting
eyes was the terror of the supernatural.

The shoulder of the charging stallion struck Dene and sent him spinning
out of the trail. In a backward glance Hare saw the outlaw fall, then
rise unhurt to shake his fists wildly and to run yelling toward the
cabin.

XVII. THE SWOOP OF THE HAWK

"JACK! the saddle's slipping!" cried Mescal, clinging closer to him.
"What luck!" Hare muttered through clinched teeth, and pulled hard on
the bridle. But the mouth of the stallion was iron; regardless of the
sawing bit, he galloped on. Hare called steadily: "Whoa there, Silver!
Whoa--slow now--whoa--easy!" and finally halted him. Hare swung down,
and as he lifted Mescal off, the saddle slipped to the ground.

"Lucky not to get a spill! The girth snapped. It was wet, and dried
out." Hare hurriedly began to repair the break with buckskin thongs that
he found in a saddle-bag.

"Listen! Hear the yells! Oh! hurry!" cried Mescal.

"I've never ridden bareback. Suppose you go ahead with Silver, and I'll
hide in the cedars till dark, then walk home!"

"No--No. There's time, but hurry."

"It's got to be strong," muttered Hare, holding the strap over his knee
and pulling the laced knot with all his strength, "for we'll have to
ride some. If it comes loose--Good-bye!"

Silvermane's broad chest muscles rippled and he stamped restlessly. The
dog whined and looked back. Mescal had the blanket smooth on the
gray when Hare threw the saddle over him. The yells had ceased, but
clattering hoofs on the stony trail were a greater menace. While Hare's
brown hands worked swiftly over buckle and strap Mescal climbed to a
seat behind the saddle.

"Get into the saddle," said Hare, leaping astride and pressing for