l gain freedom--unless luck was against
him.

The burst of Alcatraz for the river and safety was a remarkable
explosion of energy. Out of the corner of his reddening eye, as he
gained swift impetus after his swerve, he saw the cowpony wheel,
falter, and then burst across in pursuit to close the gap. He heeled
over to the left, and found a mysterious source of energy within him
that enabled his speed to be increased, until, at the top of his
racing gait, he reached the very verge of the stream. There remained
nothing now but a straight dash for freedom.

Luck favored him in one respect at least. The swollen current of the
Little Smoky had eaten away its banks so that there was a sheer drop,
straight as a cliff in most places, to the water, and the cliff-edge
above was solidly compacted sand and gravel. A better race-track could
hardly have been asked and the heart of Alcatraz swelled with hope as
he saw the ground spin back behind him. Red Perris, too, shouting like
a mad man as he spurred in, realized that his opportunity was slipping
through his fingers. For now, though far away, he swung his rope in a
stiffly horizontal circle about his head. The time had come. Straight
before him shot the red streak of the stallion; and leaning in his
saddle to give greater length to the cast he made the throw.

It failed. Even as the noose whirled above him Alcatraz knew the cast
would fall short. An instant later, falling, it slapped against his
shoulder and he was through the gap free! But at the contact of that
dreaded lariat instinct forced him to do what reason told him was
unneeded--he veered some vital inches off towards the edge of the
bank.

Thereby his triumph was undone! The gravel which made so good a
footing was, after all, a brittle support and now, under his pounding
hoofs, the whole side of the bank gave way. A squeal of terror broke
from Alcatraz. He swerved sharply in, but it was too late. The very
effort to change direction brought a greater weight upon his rear
hoofs and now they crushed down through flying gravel and sand. He
faced straight in, pawing the yielding bank with his forehoofs and
suspended over the roar of the torrent. It was like striving to climb
a hill of quicksand. The greater his struggle the more swiftly the
treacherous soil melted under his pounding hoofs.

Last of all, he heard a yell of horror from the Great Enemy and saw
the hands of the man go up before his eyes to shut out the sight