his face. Turning, he drew Black Star closer and
closer toward Night, till they ran side by side, as one horse. Then Card
raised himself in the saddle, slipped out of the stirrups, and, somehow
twisting himself, leaped upon Black Star. He did not even lose the swing
of the horse. Like a leech he was there in the other saddle, and as the
horses separated, his right foot, that had been apparently doubled under
him, shot down to catch the stirrup. The grace and dexterity and daring
of that rider's act won something more than admiration from Venters.

For the distance of a mile Jerry rode Black Star and then changed back
to Night. But all Jerry's skill and the running of the blacks could
avail little more against the sorrel.

Venters peered far ahead, studying the lay of the land. Straightaway
for five miles the trail stretched, and then it disappeared in hummocky
ground. To the right, some few rods, Venters saw a break in the sage,
and this was the rim of Deception Pass. Across the dark cleft gleamed
the red of the opposite wall. Venters imagined that the trail went down
into the Pass somewhere north of those ridges. And he realized that
he must and would overtake Jerry Card in this straight course of five
miles.

Cruelly he struck his spurs into Wrangle's flanks. A light touch of spur
was sufficient to make Wrangle plunge. And now, with a ringing, wild
snort, he seemed to double up in muscular convulsions and to shoot
forward with an impetus that almost unseated Venters. The sage blurred
by, the trail flashed by, and the wind robbed him of breath and hearing.
Jerry Card turned once more. And the way he shifted to Black Star showed
he had to make his last desperate running. Venters aimed to the side of
the trail and sent a bullet puffing the dust beyond Jerry. Venters
hoped to frighten the rider and get him to take to the sage. But Jerry
returned the shot, and his ball struck dangerously close in the dust
at Wrangle's flying feet. Venters held his fire then, while the rider
emptied his revolver. For a mile, with Black Star leaving Night behind
and doing his utmost, Wrangle did not gain; for another mile he gained
little, if at all. In the third he caught up with the now galloping
Night and began to gain rapidly on the other black.

Only a hundred yards now stretched between Black Star and Wrangle. The
giant sorrel thundered on--and on--and on. In every yard he gained
a foot. He was whistling through his nostrils, wringi