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Updated: June 11, 2025
That was the call for Mescal to put Black Bolly after Silvermane. Her fleetness made the other mustangs seem slow. All in a flash she was round the corral, with Silvermane between her and the long fence of cedars. Uttering a piercing snort of terror the gray stallion lunged out, for the first time panic-stricken, and lengthened his stride in a wonderful way.
In many places the brook failed as a trail, for it leaped down in white sheets over mossy cliffs. Hare faced these walls in despair. But Wolf led on over the ledges and Silvermane followed, nothing daunted. At last Hare shrank back from a hole which defied him utterly. Even Wolf hesitated.
It was that of a slight man, flat on his back, his arms wide, his long black hair in the dust. Under the white level brow the face had been crushed into a bloody curve. "Dene!" burst from Hare, in a whisper. "Killed by a horse!" exclaimed August Naab. "Ah! What horse?" "Silvermane!" replied George. "Who rode my horse tell me quick!" cried Hare, in a frenzy. "It was Mescal. Listen.
All the love Hare had borne the horse was as nothing to that which came to him on this desert night. In and out, round and round, ever winding, ever zigzagging, Silvermane hung close to Wolf, and the sandy lanes between the bowlders gave forth no sound. Dog and horse, free to choose their trail, trotted onward miles and miles into the night.
Jack kept faithfully at it, unmindful of defeats, often chagrined when he missed some easy opportunity. Not improbably he might have failed altogether if he had been riding an ordinary horse, or if he had to try roping from a fiery mustang. But Silvermane was as intelligent as he was beautiful and fleet.
Wolf dashed into the cottonwoods. Silvermane whistled with satisfaction and reached for the long grass. For Hare the light held something more than beauty, the breeze something more than sweet scent of water and blossom. Both were charged with meaning with suspense. Wolf appeared in the open leaping upon a slender brown-garbed form. "Mescal!" cried Hare.
Bolly's loose, broke her rope, and I think Silvermane is close. Listen sharp now." The slight breeze favored them, the camp-fire was dead, and the night was clear and starlit. They had not been quiet many moments when the shrill neigh of a mustang rang out. The Naabs raised themselves and looked at one another in the starlight. "Now what do you think of that?" whispered Billy.
In the heat of midday Hare yielded to its influence and reined in his horse under a slate-bank where there was shade. His face was swollen and peeling, and his lips had begun to dry and crack and taste of alkali. Then Wolf pattered on; Silvermane kept at his heels; Hare dozed in the saddle. His eyes burned in their sockets from the glare, and it was a relief to shut out the barren reaches.
Piute appeared on the zigzag cliff-trail, driving a burro at dangerous speed. "He's sighted Silvermane and the rustlers," suggested George, as the shepherd approached. Naab translated the excited Indian's mingling of Navajo and Piute languages to mean just what George had said. "Snap ahead of riders Silvermane far, far ahead of Snap running fast damn!"
It was a relief to have the unattainable horizon line blotted out. But by-and-by the opaque gloom brought home to him, as the day had never done, the reality of his solitude. He was alone in this immense place of barrenness, and his dumb companions were the world to him. Wolf pattered onward, a silent guide; and Silvermane followed, never lagging, sure-footed in the dark, faithful to his master.
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