of carbines against leather to the left, behind him ominous
silence. But he kept his eyes steadily to the left, and presently he
awoke to something else there, something that roused him suddenly and in
some way whipped his conscience. For now he saw a white figure amid the
khaki, racing along with them--a part of them and yet no part of them--a
familiar figure wearing a familiar bandage. This for a brief moment
only. Then he took to measuring distances again; saw that the cavalrymen
were holding to the course steadily, racing furiously as he himself was
racing for the ridge. Would he win?

A shrill outcry from his master, and he found himself checked with a
jerk. It was unexpected, sudden, and he reared. The movement shook off
the second man. Dropping back upon all-fours, Pat awoke to the relief
the loss of this load gave him. Grimly determining to hold to this
relief, he dashed ahead, following the guidance of his master in yet
another direction, hurtled away before the second man could mount again.

He found that he was speeding in a direction almost opposite from the
ridge. He did not understand this. But his regret was not long lived.
Casting his eyes to his left in vague expectancy of seeing the familiar
spot of white again, he saw only his own men and horses, and beyond them
the smiling desert. Puzzled, he gazed to the right. Here he saw the
cavalrymen, and though puzzled more, he yet kept on with all his power.
As he ran he suddenly awoke to the presence of a new body of horsemen on
his distant left, a smaller band than the cavalrymen, men without
uniforms, most of them hatless, all yelling. He remembered this yell,
and now he understood. He was speeding toward the mouth of the canyon;
had been turned completely around. And thus it was, he knew, that the
horsemen once on his left were now on his right, and the madly yelling
group at his rear was now on his left. He awoke to another realization.
This was a race again, a race with three new entrants now--all three
making toward the canyon. Would he win?

He fell to studying the flanking groups. On his right, riding easily,
bent to the winds, their heavy horses swinging rhythmically, their
accoutrements rattling, galloped the cavalry--steady, sure of
themselves, well in hand. On his left, riding furiously, without
formation, dashed the smaller group of riders--their horses wrangling
among themselves, one or two frequently bucking, all flinging forward in
excited d