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But
the
bullet
whistles
harmlessly
through
the
air
;
while
in
the
opposite
direction
is
heard
a
hishing
sound
--
as
from
the
winding
of
a
sling
--
and
a
long
serpent
seems
to
uncoil
itself
in
the
air
!
Calhoun
sees
it
through
the
thinning
smoke
.
It
is
darting
straight
towards
him
!
He
has
no
time
to
draw
trigger
for
a
second
shot
--
no
time
even
to
avoid
the
lazo
's
loop
.
Before
he
can
do
either
,
he
feels
it
settling
over
his
shoulders
;
he
hears
the
dread
summons
,
"
Surrender
,
you
assassin
!
"
he
sees
the
red
stallion
turn
tail
towards
him
;
and
,
in
the
next
instant
,
experiences
the
sensation
of
one
who
has
been
kicked
from
a
scaffold
!
Beyond
this
he
feels
,
hears
,
and
sees
nothing
more
.
He
has
been
jerked
out
of
his
saddle
;
and
the
shock
received
in
his
collision
with
the
hard
turf
has
knocked
the
breath
out
of
his
body
,
as
well
as
the
sense
out
of
his
soul
!
The
assassin
lies
stretched
along
the
earth
--
his
arms
embraced
by
the
raw-hide
rope
--
to
all
appearance
dead
.
But
his
captor
does
not
trust
to
this
.
He
believes
it
to
be
only
a
faint
--
it
may
be
a
feint
--
and
to
make
sure
it
is
not
the
latter
,
he
remains
in
his
saddle
,
keeping
his
lazo
upon
the
strain
.
The
blood-bay
,
obedient
to
his
will
,
stands
firm
as
the
trunk
of
a
tree
--
ready
to
rear
back
,
or
bound
forward
,
on
receiving
the
slightest
sign
.
It
is
a
terrible
tableau
;
though
far
from
being
strange
in
that
region
of
red-handed
strife
,
that
lies
along
the
far-stretching
frontier
of
Tamaulipas
and
Texas
.
Oft
--
too
oft
--
has
the
soaring
vulture
looked
down
upon
such
a
scene
--
with
joy
beholding
it
,
as
promising
a
banquet
for
its
filthy
beak
!
