e
was fighting by instinct, and always crowding along the wall toward the
farther corner. The girl had quite faded from his sight. Somehow he felt
that he must drive the horses back, back, out of the stall.

Allis, too, was fighting; bringing the crop down with cutting force over
the withers, neck, head, any part of the plunging mass in front of her.
She could escape now through the opening where the boy had gone; but was
not Mortimer in the same position she had been? She had seen him drop
to his knees when Diablo lashed out; he must be sorely hurt; now he was
reeling like a drunken man as he fought the mad brutes.

"This way," she panted, catching him by the coat, and pulling him toward
the window.

Ah, that was it! He saw her now. It steadied his senses. It was the
girl, and she had called him--"Mortimer!"

"Back," he yelled irrelevantly, in answer, cutting Diablo across the
face with the fork. It was pandemonium.

"Get through the window!" the girl screamed in his ear. "Quick! Now!"
and she pushed him toward it.

"You--first--back, you devils!" and he pressed away from her, closer to
the horses, thrusting and striking with the steel-pointed fork.

The horses were giving way; Diablo was fighting half through the door,
weakening before the onslaught of the powerful chestnut. Even in battle,
as in a race, the stamina of the Lazzarone blood was telling; the
bulldog courage of the strain was strong upon Lauzanne, now that he was
roused.

"Quick! You can get out!" again called the girl.

"You first!"

This drear, repetition was the only expression Mortimer's numbed senses
were equal to; but he fought with the ferocity of a tiger--his wound but
enraged him.

They could both escape, Allis knew, if she could bring Mortimer to
understand; but they must do it quick, if at all. It was useless. He
seemed conscious of but the one idea that he must drive the fighting
animals out into the passage to save her. She was not afraid now; the
man's presence had driven that all away. It was useless to speak to
him of the window, neither would go first; so, with her riding whip she
fought side by side with Mortimer; springing back from the swift-cutting
forefeet; sometimes even hugging close to the side of a horse as he
lashed out from behind; and once saving her companion from being cut
down by pulling him swiftly from under a raised foot. In the end the
stallions were forced out into the passage, just as Mike came rushing