e lowest thing that moves by the divine force of life.

As Lambert hung over the fire in that mighty leap, his soul recoiled.
His strength rushed into one great cry, which still tore at his throat
as his horse struck, racking him with a force that seemed to tear him
joint from joint.

The shock of this landing gathered his dispersed faculties. There was
fire around him, there was smoke in his nostrils, but he was alive. His
horse was on its feet, struggling to scramble up the bank on which it
had landed, the earth breaking under its hinder hoofs, threatening to
precipitate it back into the fire that its tremendous leap had cleared.

CHAPTER XVI

WHETSTONE COMES HOME

Lambert saw the fire leaping around him, but felt no sting of its touch,
keyed as he was in that swift moment of adjustment. From a man as dead
he was transformed in a breath back to a living, panting, hoping,
struggling being, strong in the tenacious purpose of life. He leaned
over his horse's neck, shouting encouragement, speaking endearments to
it as to a woman in travail.

There was silence on the bank behind him. Amazement over the leap that
had carried Whetstone across the place which they had designed for the
grave of both man and horse, held the four scoundrels breathless for a
spell. Fascinated by the heroic animal's fight to draw himself clear of
the fire which wrapped his hinder quarters, they forgot to shoot.

A heave, a lurching struggle, a groan as if his heart burst in the
terrific strain, and Whetstone lunged up the bank, staggered from his
knees, snorted the smoke out of his nostrils, gathered his feet under
him, and was away like a bullet. The sound of shots broke from the bank
across the fiery crevasse; bullets came so close to Lambert that he lay
flat against his horse's neck.

As the gallant creature ran, sensible of his responsibilities for his
master's life, it seemed, Lambert spoke to him encouragingly, proud of
the tremendous thing that he had done. There was no sound of pursuit,
but the shooting had stopped. Lambert knew they would follow as quickly
as they could ride round the field of fire.

After going to this length, they could not allow him to escape. There
would have been nothing to explain to any living man with him and all
trace of him obliterated in the fire, but with him alive and fleeing,
saved by the winged leap of his splendid horse, they would be called to
answer, man by man.

Whetstone did not app