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He merely jerked his gun to the shoulder and blazed away as soon as it was in place; half a dozen yards in front of Retherton the bullet kicked up the dust. "I told you," he shouted. "He can't do nothin' that way. Close in, boys. Close in for God's sake!" He himself was flailing with his quirt, and the buckskin grunted at every strike.
Their horses were hard to manage, the timber was thick, and the herd attempted to break away through it; but at last they reached the steep dip to the waterside. One beast plunged in and vanished, more followed, and George, plying his quirt and shouting, rode in among the diminishing drove. He felt the water lapping about his boots, and then the horse lost its footing.
I'm going to beat them down to Dry Fork." The lash of the quirt fell with a swish on the flank of the girl's pony. He did not wait for a second hint, but started down the steep slope "on the jump." Before Ashton realized what was happening, his own horse was following at the same breakneck pace.
The butt of his quirt was uplifted. It swung above his head a full half-circle, then it descended with that whistling split of the air that told of the rage and force that impelled it. It took the giant square across the face, laying the flesh open and sending the blood spurting with its vicious impact.
"And you flogged him with your quirt?" "Sure." The man's teeth clipped together. "Oh, yes," he went on, after a moment. "I'm not the sort to let a neche get away with that sort of thing. You see, I reckon I'm master around this layout." "And Keeko?" Again came the man's ominous laugh in reply. "She was quick. I reckoned she was here with you. Making her fancy farewell.
"Why should he?" she asked. "Because when Blake comes " Ashton paused and shifted to a question. "Will you tell your father about their coming?" "Of course. I did not tell him about writing, because it would only have increased his suspense. But now Let's hurry back!" A cut of her quirt set her pony into a lope. Rocket needed no urging.
Beyond the gravel-pits the trail turned and followed the flank of the slope, level here for nearly a mile. Lockwood set his teeth against the agony of his foot and gave the bronco the quirt with all his strength. In another half-hour he had passed Cold Canon, and twenty minutes after that had begun the descent into Indian River.
Mose muttered to Reynolds: "He's due to bolt, and I'm going to quirt him a-plenty." The spectators, tense with joy, filled the air with advice and warning. "Don't let him get started. Keep him away from the fence." Mose wore a set and serious look as he approached the frenzied beast. There was danger in this trick a broken leg or collar bone might make his foolhardiness costly.
Lone guessed that the two felt the need of a private conference after their visit to the Quirt, but he could see no way to slip unobserved to the house and eavesdrop, so he looked perfunctorily through all the sheds and around the depleted haystacks, wherever a person could find a hiding place.
Bat swung in with his pack horse and with his quirt Tex forced them up the embankment. Endicott's horse was all but swimming. The water came above the man's knees as the animal fought for footing. The Texan leaned far out and, grasping the bridle, drew him in to the bank and quirted him to the top. Then, as the three watched, he headed his own horse upward.
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