forged into a position well in the lead. And
he held this place--around him frenzied horses, frantic riders; behind
him, to the distant rear, shot after shot echoing over the desert;
before him the baking sands, shimmering heat-waves, sullen and silent.
He raced on, swinging up over dunes, dropping into hollows, speeding
across flats, mounting over dunes again, on and on toward the basin and
the mouth of the canyon--and protection.

But again disaster.

Suddenly, out of the canyon poured the cheerful notes of a bugle. On the
vibrant wings of the echoes, streaming into the basin from the canyon,
swept a body of flying horsemen. Instantly he checked himself. Then his
master sounded a shrill outcry, swung his head around violently, and
lashed him forward again. He hurtled headlong, dashing toward the
distant ridge, the peninsula jutting out into the desert. Grimly he
flung out along this new course. But he kept his eyes to the left. He
saw the horsemen there also swerve, saw them spread out like a fan, and
felt his interest kindle joyously. For this was a race! It was a race
for that ridge! And he must win! He must do this thing, for
instinctively he knew that beyond it lay safety. There he could flee to
some haven, while cut off from it, cut off by these steady-riding men on
his left, he must submit to wretched defeat. So he strained himself
harder and burst into fresh speed, finding himself surprised that he
could. In the thrill of it he forgot his double load, forgot the
close-pressing horses, forgot irritating dust. On he galloped, racing
forward with machine-like evenness--on his left the paralleling
horsemen, to his rear yelling and shooting, on his right his own men and
horses, and for them he felt he must do big things.

Suddenly the shooting in his rear ceased. Evidently these men had
received some warning from the riders on his left. Then he awoke to
another truth. The horsemen on his left were gaining. It troubled him,
and he cast measuring eyes to the front. He saw that he was pursuing a
shorter line to the ridge; he believed he still could reach it first. So
again he strained on, whipping his legs into movement till they seemed
about to snap. But the effort hurt him and he discovered that he was
becoming woefully tired. Also, the double weight worried him. It had not
become lighter with the miles, nor had he grown stronger. Yet he
galloped on with thundering hoofs, the tranquil desert before him, the
thud