machine-like evenness -- on his left the paralleling
horsemen, to his rear yelling and shooting, on his
right his own men and horses, and for them he
felt he must do big things.

Suddenly the shooting in his rear ceased. Evidently
these men had received some warning from
the riders on his left. Then he awoke to another
truth. The horsemen on his left were gaining. It
troubled him, and he cast measuring eyes to the
front. He saw that he was pursuing a shorter
line to the ridge; he believed he still could reach
it first. So again he strained on, whipping his legs
into movement till they seemed about to snap.
But the effort hurt him and he discovered that he
was becoming woefully tired. Also, the double
weight worried him. It had not become lighter
with the miles, nor had he grown stronger. Yet
he galloped on with thundering hoofs, the tranquil
desert before him, the thud of carbines against
leather to the left, behind him ominous silence.
But he kept his eyes steadily to the left, and presently
he awoke to something else there, something
that roused him suddenly and in some way
whipped his conscience. For now he saw a white
figure amid the khaki, racing along with them-a
part of them and yet no part of them -- a familiar
figure wearing a familiar bandage. This for a
brief moment only. Then he took to measuring
distances again; saw that the cavalrymen were
holding to the course steadily, racing furiously
as he himself was racing for the ridge. Would he
win?

[[250]]

p249 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p250w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p251

v?