d it." He lighted
another match, and then cursed softly in delight. "Look!" he commanded.

At the farther side of the wall was the glitter of metal--the latch of a
door opening in the wooden wall. Mac Strann set it ajar and Haw-Haw
peered in over the big man's shoulder. He saw first a vague and formless
glimmer. Then he made out a black horse lying down in the centre of a
box stall. The animal plunged at once to its feet, and crowding as far
as possible away against the wall, turned its head and stared at them
with flashing eyes.

"It's him!" whispered Haw-Haw. "It's Barry's black. They ain't another
hoss like him on the range. An' the wolf--thank God!--ain't with him."

But Mac Strann closed the door of the stall, frowning thoughtfully, and
thought on the face of Strann was a convulsion of pain. He dropped the
second match to his feet, where it ignited a wisp of straw that sent up
a puff of light.

"Ah-h!" drawled Mac Strann. "The wolf ain't here, but we'll soon have
him here. And the thing that brings him here will get rid of the black
hoss."

"Are you goin' to steal the hoss?"

"Steal him? He couldn't carry me two mile, a skinny hoss like that. But
if Barry ever gets away agin on that hoss I ain't never goin' to catch
him. That hoss has got to die."

Haw-Haw Langley caught his breath with a harsh gurgle. For men of the
mountain-desert sometimes fall very low indeed, but in their lowest
moments it is easier for him to kill a man than a horse. There is the
story, for instance, of the cattleman who saw the bull-fight in Juarez,
and when the bull gored the first horse the cowpuncher rose in the crowd
and sent a bullet through the picador to square the deal. So Haw-Haw
sighed.

"Mac," he whispered, "has it got to be done? Ain't there any other way?
I've seen that hoss. When the sun hits him it sets him on fire, he's
that sleek. And his legs is like drawn-iron, they're that fine. And he's
got a head that's finer than a man's head, Mac."

"I've seen him close enough," answered Mac Strann grimly. "An' I've
follered him for a day and a half, damn near. S'pose Barry finds out I'm
on his trail; s'pose he won't foller the wolf when the wolf tries to
lead him to me. S'pose he gets on this hoss and cuts away? Can I foller
the wind, Haw-Haw? This hoss has got to die!"

From the manger he threw out several armfuls of hay, wrenched down from
behind the manger several light boards, and tossed them on the hay. He
lighted a