nd he suddenly yielded to
it and raised his head, laughing harshly, with panting, labored breath.

Barkwell rode up to him, speaking hoarsely: "We come pretty near wipin'
'em out, 'Firebrand!'"

He looked up at his foreman, and the latter's face blanched. "God!" he
said. He whispered to a cowboy who had joined him: "The boss is pretty
near loco--looks like!"

"They've killed Weaver," muttered Trevison. "He's here. They killed Clay,
too--he's down on a rock near the slope." He laughed, and tightened his
belt. The record book which he had carried in his waistband all along
interfered with this work, and he drew it out, throwing it from him. "Clay
was worth a thousand of them!"

Barkwell got down and seized the book, watching Trevison closely.

"Look here, Boss," he said, as Trevison ran to his horse and threw himself
into the saddle; "you're bushed, mighty near--"

If Trevison heard his first words he had paid no attention to them. He
could not have heard the last words, for Nigger had lunged forward,
running with great, long, catlike leaps in the direction of Manti.

"Good God!" yelled Barkwell to some of the men who had ridden up; "the
damn fool is goin' to town! They'll salivate him, sure as hell! Some of
you stay here--two's enough! The rest of you come along with me!"

They were after Trevison within a few seconds, but the black horse was far
ahead, running without hitch or stumble, as straight toward Manti as his
willing muscles and his loyal heart could take him.

* * * * *

Corrigan had seen the black bolt that had rushed toward him out of the
spot where the blot had been. He cursed hoarsely and drove the spurs deep
into the flanks of his horse, and the animal, squealing with pain and
fury, leaped down the side of the arroyo, crossed the bottom in two or
three bounds and stretched away toward Manti.

A cold fear had seized the big man's heart. It made a sweat break out on
his forehead, it caused his hand to tremble as he flung it around to his
hip in search of his pistol. He tried to shake the feeling off, but it
clung insistently to him, making him catch his breath. His horse was big,
rangy, and strong, but he forced it to such a pace during the first mile
of the ride that he could feel its muscles quivering under the saddle
skirts. And he looked back at the end of the mile, to see the black horse
at about the same distance from him; possibly the distance had