ne, made for the Colt, was too
long and loose by half an inch, and the pistol was pounding up and down
with every stride. Just ahead of us came the flash of the sparkling
water in one of the little ditches. Van cleared it in his stride with no
effort whatever. Then, just beyond,--oh, fatal trick!--seemingly when in
mid-air he changed step, striking the ground with a sudden shock that
jarred us both and flung the downward-pointed pistol up against the
closely-buttoned holster-flap. There was a sharp report, and my heart
stood still an instant. I knew--oh, well I knew it was the death-note of
my gallant pet. On he went, never swaying, never swerving, never
slackening his racing speed; but, turning in the saddle and glancing
back, I saw, just back of the cantle, just to the right of the spine in
the glossy brown back, that one tiny, grimy, powder-stained hole. I knew
the deadly bullet had ranged downward through his very vitals. I knew
that Van had run his last race, was even now rushing towards a goal he
would never reach. Fast as he might fly, he could not leave Death
behind.

The chase was over. Looking back, I could see the troopers already
hastening in pursuit, but we were out of the race. Gently, firmly I drew
the rein. Both hands were needed, for Van had never stopped here, and
some strange power urged him on now. Full three hundred yards he ran
before he would consent to halt. Then I sprang from the saddle and ran
to his head. His eyes met mine. Soft and brown, and larger than ever,
they gazed imploringly. Pain and bewilderment, strange, wistful
pleading, but all the old love and trust, were there as I threw my arms
about his neck and bowed his head upon my breast. I could not bear to
meet his eyes. I could not look into them and read there the deadly pain
and faintness that were rapidly robbing them of their lustre, but that
could not shake their faith in his friend and master. No wonder mine
grew sightless as his own through swimming tears. I who had killed him
could not face his last conscious gaze.

One moment more, and, swaying, tottering first from side to side, poor
Van fell with heavy thud upon the turf. Kneeling, I took his head in my
arms and strove to call back one sign of recognition; but all that was
gone. Van's spirit was ebbing away in some fierce, wild dream: his
glazing eyes were fixed on vacancy; his breath came in quick, convulsive
gasps; great tremors shook his frame, growing every instant more