Some damn fools! Something for nothing. That's what He gives!
Steady, boy: steady!"

Between perfect fear and perfect pleasure, the stallion shuddered. Now
the Great Enemy was beside him with a hand slipping down his neck. Why
did he not swerve and race away? What power chained him to the place?
He jerked his head about and caught the shoulder of Perris in his
teeth. He could crush through muscles and sinews and smash the bone.
But the teeth of Alcatraz did not close for the hunter made no sign of
fear or pain.

"You're considerable of an idiot, Alcatraz, but you don't know no
better," the voice was saying. "That's right, let go that hold. In the
old days I'd of had my rope on you quicker'n a wink. But what good in
that? The hoss I love ain't a down-headed, mean-hearted man-killer
like you used to be; it's the Alcatraz that I've seen running free
here in the Valley of the Eagles. And if you come with me, you come
free and you stay free. I don't want to set no brand on you. If you
stay it's because you like me, boy; and when you want to leave the
corral gate will be sure open. Are you coming along?"

The fingers of that gentle hand had tangled in the mane of Alcatraz,
drawing him softly forward. He braced his feet, snorting, his ears
back. Instantly the pressure on his mane ceased. Alcatraz stepped
forward.

"By God," breathed the man. "It's true! Alcatraz, old hoss, d'you
think I'd ever of tried to make a slave out of you if I'd guessed that
I could make you a partner?"

Behind them, the rattle of volleying hoofs was sweeping closer. The
rain had ceased. The air was a perfect calm, and the very grunt of the
racing horses was faintly audible and the cursing of the men as they
urged their mounts forward. Towards that approaching fear, Alcatraz
turned his head. They came as though they would run him into the
river. But what did it all mean? So long as one man stood beside him,
he was shielded from the enmity of all other men. That had been true
even in the regime of the dastardly Cordova.

"Steady!" gasped Red Perris. "They're coming like bullets, Alcatraz,
old timer! Steady!"

One hand rested on the withers, the other on the back of the chestnut,
and he raised himself gingerly up. Under the weight the stallion
shrank catwise, aside and down. But there was no wrench of a curb in
his mouth, no biting of the cinches. In the old days of his colthood,
a barelegged boy used to come into the pasture and jump on his bar