n as he
shouted: "Once more!"

Up went the shining barrels of the rifles, followed the swerving form
of the horseman for a moment, and then, steadied to straight, gleaming
lines, they fired at the same instant, as though in obedience to an
unspoken order.

And the form of Red Perris was knocked forward on the back of
Alcatraz!

Some place in his body one of those bullets had struck. They saw him
slide far to one side. They saw, while they shouted in triumph, that
Alcatraz instinctively shortened his pace to keep his slipping burden
from falling.

"He's done!" yelled Hervey, and shoving his rifle back in its holster,
he spurred again in the pursuit.

But Red Perris was not done. Scrambling with his legs, tugging with
his arms, he drew himself into position and straightway collapsed
along the back of Alcatraz with both hands interwoven in the mane of
the horse.

And the stallion endured it! A shout of amazement burst from the
foreman and his men. Alcatraz had tossed up his head, sent a ringing
neigh of defiance floating behind him, and then struck again into his
matchless, smooth flowing gallop!

Perhaps it was not so astonishing, after all, as some men could have
testified who have seen horses that are devils under spur and saddle
become lambs when the steel and the leather they have learned to dread
are cast away.

But all Alcatraz could understand, as his mind grasped vaguely towards
the meaning of the strange affair, was that the strong, agile power on
his back had been suddenly destroyed. Red Perris was now a limp and
hanging weight, something no longer to be feared, something to be
treated, at will, with contempt. The very voice was changed and husky
as it called to him, close to his ear. And he no longer dared to
dodge, because at every swerve that limp burden slid far to one side
and dragged itself back with groans of agony. Then something warm
trickled down over his shoulder. He turned his head. From the breast
of the rider a crimson trickle was running down over the chestnut
hair, and it was blood. With the horror of it he shuddered.

He must gallop gently, now, at a sufficient distance to keep the
rifles from speaking behind him, but slowly and softly enough to
keep the rider in his place. He swung towards the mares, running,
frightened by the turmoil, in the distance. But a hand on his neck
pressed him back in a different direction and down into the trail
which led, eventually, to the ranch of Ol