A shrill outcry from his master, and he found
himself checked with a jerk. It was unexpected,
sudden, and he reared. The movement shook off
the second man. Dropping back upon all-fours,
Pat awoke to the relief the loss of this load gave
him. Grimly determining to hold to this relief,
he dashed ahead, following the guidance of his
master in yet another direction, hurtled away
before the second man could mount again.

He found that he was speeding in a direction
almost opposite from the ridge. He did not understand
this. But his regret was not long lived.
Casting his eyes to his left in vague expectancy
of seeing the familiar spot of white again, he saw
only his own men and horses, and beyond them
the smiling desert. Puzzled, he gazed to the right.
Here he saw the cavalrymen, and though puzzled
more, he yet kept on with all his power. As
he ran he suddenly awoke to the presence of a new
body of horsemen on his distant left, a smaller
band than the cavalrymen, men without uniforms,
most of them hatless, all yelling. He remembered
this yell, and now he understood. He was speeding
toward the mouth of the canyon; had been
turned completely around. And thus it was, he
knew, that the horsemen once on his left were now
on his right, and the madly yelling group at his rear
was now on his left. He awoke to another realization.
This was a race again, a race with three
new entrants now -- all three making toward the
canyon. Would he win?

He fell to studying the flanking groups. On his

[[251]]

p250 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p251w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p252

v?