as sure he
had just heard him voice such readiness.

The Kentuckian flung himself flat before he reached the skyline, wriggling
on in a desperate crawl. Then he lay panting in a small earth dip, only a
ragged fringe of grass between him and the down slope.

Even in the swirl of wind-blown dust there was no mistaking Shiloh--rearing
and fighting to dislodge his rider, wheeling about in a circle. Three
other horses and their riders had edged well beyond the circumference of
that circle, the horses neighing and snorting.

The squeal of the Pinto was ear-wrenching, though as yet the killer stud
had not appeared in plain sight. The cry triggered Shiloh into a fantastic
effort. He reared, striking out with front hoofs, perhaps in an effort to
keep his balance. Drew fully expected to see him crash over and back.

Apparently his rider feared the same fall. In the dusty murk the man
separated from the horse. Shiloh whirled and pounded back, away from his
rider, and as he went he voiced once more his answer to the Pinto.

Drew sighted a dark spot moving in to intercept the gray. Then the spot
turned broadside and he appreciated what had made the Pinto so elusive to
hunters. The mottled red-and-white patches of the wild stud's coat melted
into the landscape in an uncanny fashion, making the horse seem to appear
and disappear as he trotted back and forth.

The Kentuckian tried to bring the Spencer in line with that weaving,
distorted barrel of spotted body. What was the range? Too far, he was
afraid, for a shot to count. But he knew that he could not lie there and
watch the Pinto cut down Shiloh in one of those vicious, deadly, equine
duels. The Kentucky horse had no fighting experience, and his greater bulk
and height would mean little against the wily cunning of the murderer who
had already tasted blood too many times. To allow Shiloh to be ripped to
pieces was utterly unthinkable.

The men down there no longer mattered. Drew rose to one knee, steadied the
carbine, and fired.

Did the Pinto really flinch from a bullet striking home? Or had the
dangerous sound of gunfire caused his old caution to win out for an
instant over his blood lust? The red head with the dangling white forelock
tossed, and then the wild horse whirled and ran. Shiloh, teeth bared,
ready and willing to come to battle, followed....

Drew was on his feet. Then he was pulled backward by a jerk out of
nowhere, and he fell under a brown, mostly bare body