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The
pursuer
nearest
him
is
mounted
upon
a
grey
mustang
;
which
is
being
urged
to
its
utmost
speed
by
whip
,
spur
,
and
voice
.
The
one
coming
after
--
but
with
a
long
interval
between
--
is
a
tall
man
in
a
slouched
hat
and
blanket
coat
,
bestriding
a
rawboned
roadster
,
that
no
one
would
suspect
to
be
capable
of
such
speed
.
It
is
procured
not
by
whip
,
spur
,
and
voice
;
but
by
the
more
cruel
prompting
of
a
knife-blade
held
in
the
rider
's
hand
,
and
at
intervals
silently
applied
to
the
animal
's
spine
,
just
behind
the
croup
.
The
two
men
,
thus
leading
the
chase
,
are
Cassius
Calhoun
and
Zeb
Stump
.
The
swiftness
of
the
grey
mustang
has
given
Calhoun
the
advantage
;
aided
by
a
determination
to
be
in
at
the
death
--
as
if
some
desperate
necessity
required
it
.
The
old
hunter
appears
equally
determined
.
Instead
of
being
contented
to
proceed
at
his
usual
gait
,
and
trusting
to
his
skill
as
a
tracker
,
he
seems
aiming
to
keep
the
other
in
sight
--
as
if
a
like
stern
necessity
was
prompting
him
to
do
so
.
In
a
short
time
both
have
entered
the
chapparal
,
and
are
lost
to
the
eyes
of
those
riding
less
resolutely
behind
.
On
through
the
thicket
rush
the
three
horsemen
;
not
in
a
straight
line
,
but
along
the
lists
and
cattle
tracks
--
now
direct
,
now
in
sweeping
curves
,
now
sharply
zigzagging
to
avoid
the
obstructions
of
the
timber
.
On
go
they
,
regardless
of
bush
or
brake
--
fearlessly
,
buffeted
by
the
sharp
spines
of
the
cactus
,
and
the
stinging
thorns
of
the
mezquites
.
The
branches
snap
and
crackle
,
as
they
cleave
their
way
between
;
while
the
birds
,
scared
by
the
rude
intrusion
,
fly
screaming
to
some
safer
roost
.
