A
terrifying spectacle, but the rider sat erect, with one arm raised high
above his head in triumph, and his yell trailing off behind him. From a
running gait the stallion fell into a smooth pace--a true wild pacer, his
hoofs beating the ground with the force and speed of pistons and hurling
himself forward with incredible strides. Horse and rider lurched out of
sight among the silver spruce.
"By the Lord, wonderful!" cried Vance Cornish.
He heard a stifled cry beside him, a cry of infinite pain.
"Is--is it over?"
And there sat Elizabeth the Indomitable with her face buried in her hands
like a girl of sixteen!
"Of course it's over," said Vance, wondering profoundly.
She seemed to dread to look up. "And--Terence?"
"He's all right. Ever hear of a horse that could get that young wildcat
out of the saddle? He clings as if he had claws. But--where did he get
that red devil?"
"Terence ran him down--in the mountains--somewhere," she answered,
speaking as one who had only half heard the question. "Two months of
constant trailing to do it, I think. But oh, you're right! The horse is a
devil! And sometimes I think--"
She stopped, shuddering.
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