rushing hoofs of another horse and the deadly
shadow of the rope swept over him. Terror froze him for what seemed a
long moment under the swing of the rope, in reality his side-leap was
swift as the bound of the wild cat and the curse of the unlucky
cowpuncher roared in his ear.

Alcatraz shot away like a thrown stone. The pursuit lasted only five
minutes, but to the stallion it seemed five ages, with the shouting of
the man behind him, for while he fled every scar pricked him and once
again his bones ached from every blow which the Mexican had struck. At
the end of the five minutes Alcatraz was hopelessly beyond reach and the
cowpuncher merely galloped to the highest hilltop to watch the runner.
As far as he could follow the course, that blinding speed was not
abated, and the cowpuncher watched with a lump growing in his throat. He
had fallen into a dream of being mounted on a stallion which no horse in
the mountains could overtake and which no horse in the mountains could
escape. To be safe in flight, to be inescapable in pursuit--that was, in
a small way, to be like a god.

But when Alcatraz disappeared in the horizon haze, the cowpuncher
lowered his head with a sigh. He realized that such a creature was not
for him, and he turned his horse's head and plodded back towards the
ranchhouse. When he arrived, he told the first story of the wild
red-chestnut, beautiful, swift as an eagle. He talked with the hunger and
the fire which comes on the faces of those who love horses. It was not
his voice but his manner which convinced his hearers, and before he
ended every eye in the bunkhouse was lighted.

That moment was the beginning of the end for Alcatraz. From the moment
men saw him and desired him the days of his freedom were limited; but
great should be the battle before he was subdued!

CHAPTER VII

THE PROMISED LAND

There was no thought of submission in Alcatraz at this moment, though
never for an instant did he under-rate the power of man. To Alcatraz the
Mexican was the type, and Cordova had seemed to unite in himself many
powers--strength like a herd of bulls, endurance greater than the
contemptible patience of the burro, speed like the lightning which winks
in the sky one instant and shatters the cottonwood tree the next. Such
as he were men, creatures who conquer for the sake of conquest and who
torment for the love of pain. His fear equalled his hatred, and his
hatred made him shake with fever.

The