ut going through the intermediate stages by which the usual
educated bronco rises to a climax of his efforts, Alcatraz began at
once that most dreaded of all forms of bucking--sun-fishing. The
wooded hills were close now and the ground beneath him was firm
underfoot assuring him full use of all his agility and strength. His
motion was like that of a breaking comber. First he hurled himself
into the air, then pitched sharply down and landed on one stiffened
foreleg--the jar being followed by the deadly whiplash snap to the
side as he slumped over. Then again driven into the air by the impulse
of those powerful hind legs, he landed on the alternate foreleg and
snapped his rider in the opposite direction--a blow on the base of the
brain and another immediately following on the side.

Underfed mustangs have killed men by this maneuver, repeated without
end. Alcatraz was no starveling mongrel, but to the fierceness of a
wild horse and the tireless durability of a mustang he united the
subtlety which he had gained in his long battle with the Mexican and
above all this, his was the pride of one who had already conquered
man. His fierce assault began to produce results.

He saw Red Perris sway drunkenly at every shock; his head seemed to
swing on a pivot from side to side under that fearful jolting--his
mouth was ajar, his eyes staring, a fearful mask of a face; yet he
clung in place. When he was stunned, instinct still kept his feet in
the stirrups and taught him to give lightly to every jar. He fought
hard but in time even Red Perris must collapse.

But could the attack be sustained indefinitely? Grim as were results
of sun-fishing on the rider, they were hardly less vitiating for the
horse. The forelegs of Alcatraz began to grow numb below the shoulder;
his knees bowed and refused to give the shock its primal snap; to the
very withers he was an increasing ache. He must vary the attack. As
soon as that idea came, he reared and flung himself back to the earth.

He heard a sharp exclamation from the rider--he felt the tug as the
right foot of Perris hung in the stirrup, then the stunning impact on
the ground. To make sure of his prey he whirled himself to the left,
but even so his striking feet did not reach the Great Enemy. Perris
had freed himself in the last fraction of a second and pitching
headlong from the saddle he rolled over and over in the dirt, safe.
That fall opened a new hope to Alcatraz. Had he possessed his fu