nder smelt and there's a sandy trail
under it," I called.

"There go Don an' Tige down into the break!" cried Frank. "They've got
a hot scent!"

Jones stooped over the place I designated, to jerk up with reddening
face, and as he flung himself into the saddle roared out: "After
Sounder! Old Tom! Old Tom! Old Tom!"

We all heard Sounder, and at the moment of Jones's discovery, Moze got
the scent and plunged ahead of us.

"Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!" yelled the Colonel. Frank sent Spot forward like a
white streak. Sounder called to us in irresistible bays, which Moze
answered, and then crippled Jude bayed in baffled impotent distress.

The atmosphere was charged with that lion. As if by magic, the
excitation communicated itself to all, and men, horses and dogs acted
in accord. The ride through the forest had been a jaunt. This was a
steeplechase, a mad, heedless, perilous, glorious race. And we had for
a pacemaker a cowboy mounted on a tireless mustang.

Always it seemed to me, while the wind rushed, the brush whipped, I saw
Frank far ahead, sitting his saddle as if glued there, holding his
reins loosely forward. To see him ride so was a beautiful sight. Jones
let out his Comanche yell at every dozen jumps and Wallace sent back a
thrilling "Waa-hoo-o!" In the excitement I had again checked my horse,
and when Jones remembered, and loosed the bridle, how the noble animal
responded! The pace he settled into dazed me; I could hardly
distinguish the deer trail down which he was thundering. I lost my
comrades ahead; the pinyons blurred in my sight; I only faintly heard
the hounds. It occurred to me we were making for the breaks, but I did
not think of checking Satan. I thought only of flying on faster and
faster.

"On! On! old fellow! Stretch out! Never lose this race! We've got to be
there at the finish!" I called to Satan, and he seemed to understand
and stretched lower, farther, quicker.

The brush pounded my legs and clutched and tore my clothes; the wind
whistled; the pinyon branches cut and whipped my face. Once I dodged to
the left, as Satan swerved to the right, with the result that I flew
out of the saddle, and crashed into a pinyon tree, which marvelously
brushed me back into the saddle. The wild yells and deep bays sounded
nearer. Satan tripped and plunged down, throwing me as gracefully as an
aerial tumbler wings his flight. I alighted in a bush, without feeling
of scratch or pain. As Satan recovered and ran past, I