But
the outlaw paled to a ghastly white and seemed rooted to the trail. It
was not fear of a man or a horse that held Dene fixed; in his starting
eyes was the terror of the supernatural.
The shoulder of the charging stallion struck Dene and sent him spinning
out of the trail. In a backward glance Hare saw the outlaw fall, then
rise unhurt to shake his fists wildly and to run yelling toward the
cabin.
XVII
THE SWOOP OF THE HAWK
"JACK! the saddle's slipping!" cried Mescal, clinging closer to him.
"What luck!" Hare muttered through clinched teeth, and pulled hard on the
bridle. But the mouth of the stallion was iron; regardless of the sawing
bit, he galloped on. Hare called steadily: "Whoa there, Silver! Whoa--
slow now--whoa--easy!" and finally halted him. Hare swung down, and as
he lifted Mescal off, the saddle slipped to the ground.
"Lucky not to get a spill! The girth snapped. It was wet, and dried
out." Hare hurriedly began to repair the break with buckskin thongs that
he found in a saddle-bag.
"Listen! Hear the yells! Oh! hurry!" cried Mescal.
"I've never ridden bareback.
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