him frenzied horses, frantic riders; behind him,
to the distant rear, shot after shot echoing over
the desert; before him the baking sands, shimmering
heat-waves, sullen and silent. He raced
on, swinging up over dunes, dropping into hollows,
speeding across flats, mounting over dunes again,
on and on toward the basin and the mouth of the
canyon -- and protection.

But again disaster.

Suddenly, out of the canyon poured the cheerful
notes of a bugle. On the vibrant wings of the
echoes, streaming into the basin from the canyon,
swept a body of flying horsemen. Instantly he
checked himself. Then his master sounded a shrill
outcry, swung his head around violently, and
lashed him forward again. He hurtled headlong,
dashing toward the distant ridge, the peninsula
jutting out into the desert. Grimly he flung out
along this new course. But he kept his eyes to
the left. He.saw the horsemen there also swerve,
saw them spread out like a fan, and felt his interest
kindle joyously. For this was a race! It was a
race for that ridge! And he must win! He must
do this thing, for instinctively he knew that beyond
it lay safety. There he could flee to some
haven, while cut off from it, cut off by these steady-riding
men on his left, he must submit to wretched
defeat. So he strained himself harder and burst
into fresh speed, finding himself surprised that he
could. In the thrill of it he forgot his double
load, forgot the close-pressing horses, forgot irritating
dust. On he galloped, racing forward with

[[249]]

p248 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p249w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p250

v?