hey covered a quarter of the
fifteen miles, but he did not mind that much; besides, he guessed
shrewdly that the pinto would travel better once they were well out of
town.

The soft, warm dusk of a July evening crept over the land and a few
stars winked at them facetiously. Over by the reedy creek, frogs
_cr-ek-ek-ekked_ in a tuneless medley and night-hawks flapped silently
through the still air, swooping suddenly with a queer, whooing rush
like wind blowing through a cavern. Familiar sounds they were to
Weary--so familiar that he scarce heard them; though he would have felt
a vague, uneasy sense of something lost had they stilled unexpectedly.
Out in the lane which leads to the open range-land between wide reaches
of rank, blue-joint meadows, a new sound met them--the faint, insistent
humming of millions of mosquitoes. Weary dug Glory with his spurs and
came near having his arm jerked from its socket before he could pull
him in again. He swore a little and swung round in the saddle.

"Can't yuh dig a little speed into that cayuse with your heels, Dock?"
he cried to the resentful heirloom. "We're going to be naturally
chewed up if we don't fan the breeze along here."

"Ah don'd care--das wass de mean treeck!" growled Dock into his beard.

Weary opened his mouth, came near swallowing a dozen mosquitoes alive,
and closed it again. What would it profit him to argue with a drunken
man? He slowed till the pinto, still moving with stiff, reluctant
knees, came alongside, and struck him sharply with his quirt; the pinto
sidled and Dock lurched over as far as Weary's rope would permit.

"Come along, then!" admonished Weary, under his breath.

The pinto snorted and ran backward until Weary wished he had been
content with the pace of a snail. Then the mosquitoes swooped down
upon them in a cloud and Glory struck out, fighting and kicking
viciously. Presently Weary found himself with part of the pinto's
bridle-rein in his hand, and the memory of a pale object disappearing
into the darkness ahead.

For the time being he was wholly occupied with his own horse; but when
Glory was minded to go straight ahead instead of in a circle, he gave
thought to his mission and thanked the Lord that Dock was headed in the
right direction. He gave chase joyfully; for every mile covered in
that fleet fashion meant an added chance for Patsy's life. Even the
mosquitoes found themselves hopelessly out of the race and beat up
harmless