Stephen shivered. For instinctively he knew this
to be the gray stallion, the cross-bred, that had
trampled the form beside him. His first impulse
was to mount Pat and spur him in a race for life;
his second impulse was to crouch in hiding in the
hope of escaping the keen scrutiny of that merciless
demon. He chose the race. Springing to his
feet, he leaped for Pat, and he grasped the saddle-horn.
In his haste he slipped, lost his stirrup,
and fell back headlong. The shock made him
faint, and for a time he was unconscious." Shrill
neighing aroused him, and, hastily gaining his
feet, he saw Pat running lightly, well-contained,
to meet the swiftly advancing gray stallion.
Then events moved with a terrible unreality.

The gray screamed defiantly and leaped toward
Pat faster and faster. Pat braced his legs to
meet the assault. But no assault came. With
rare craft the gray suddenly checked himself,
coming to a full stop two lengths away. Here,
with ears flat and lashing tail, he glared at Pat,
who, equally tense, returned defiance. Thus they
stood in the desert, quiet, measuring each other,
while Stephen, crouched, watching them, remembering
the lifeless form beside him, prayed that
Pat would prove equal to the mighty stallion.
He had no gun. Pat alone could save him. If
Pat were conquered nothing remained but death
for both. For with Pat dead -- and surely this
masterful foe would stop at nothing short of death
-- Stephen realized that he himself, in his present
condition, would never see civilization again.

[[271]]

p270 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p271w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p272

v?