The Untamed

by Max Brand

  CHAPTER XXV

  THE LONG RIDE

  A cheer of triumph came from the lynchers. In fifty yards thefugitives learned the reason, for they glimpsed a high set of barsblocking the lane. Dan pulled back beside Haines.

  "Can the bay make it?" he called.

  "No. I'm done for."

  For answer Dan caught the bridle of Lee's horse close to the bit. Theywere almost to the bars. A dark shadow slid up and over them. It wasBlack Bart, with his head turned to look back even as he jumped, as ifhe were setting an example which he bid them follow. Appallingly highthe bars rose directly in front of them.

  "Now!" called Dan to the tall bay, and jerked up on the bit.

  Satan rose like a swallow to the leap. The bay followed in gallantimitation. For an instant they hung poised in air. Then Satan pitchedto the ground, landing safely and lightly on four cat-like feet. Aclick and a rattle behind them--the bay was also over, but his hindhoofs had knocked down the top bar. He staggered, reeled far toone side, but recovering, swept on after Satan and Dan. A yell ofdisappointment rang far behind.

  Glancing back Haines saw the foremost of the pursuers try to imitatethe feat of the fugitives, but even with the top bar down he failed.Man and horse pitched to the ground.

  For almost a mile the lane held straight on, and beyond stretchedthe open country. They were in that free sweep of hills before thepursuers remounted beyond the bars. In daytime a mile would have beena small handicap, but with the night and the hills to cover theirflight, and with such mounts as Satan and the tall bay, they weresafe. In half an hour all sound of them died out, and Haines,following Dan's example, slowed his horse to an easy gallop.

  The long rider was puzzled by his companion's horsemanship, for Danrode leaning far to the right of his saddle, with his head bowed.Several times Haines was on the verge of speaking, but he refrained.He commenced to sing in the exultation of freedom. An hour before hehad been in the "rat-trap" with a circle of lynchers around him, andonly two terror-stricken guards to save him from the most horrible ofdeaths. Then came Fate and tore him away and gave him to the libertyof the boundless hills. Fate in the person of this slender, sombreman. He stared at Dan with awe.

  At the top of a hill his companion drew rein, reeling in the saddlewith the suddenness of the halt. However, in such a horseman, thiscould not be. It must be merely a freak feature of his riding.

  "Move," said Dan, his breath coming in pants. "Line out and get toher."

  "To who?" said Haines, utterly bewildered.

  "Delilah!"

  "What?"

  "Damn you, she's waitin' for you."

  "In the name of God, Barry, why do you talk like this after you'vesaved me from hell?"

  He stretched out his hand eagerly, but Dan reined Satan back.

  "Keep your hand. I hate you worse'n hell. There ain't room enough inthe world for us both. If you want to thank me do it by keepin' out ofmy path. Because the next time we meet you're goin' to die, Haines.It's writ in a book. Now feed your hoss the spur and run for KateCumberland. But remember--I'm goin' to get you again if I can."

  "Kate--" began Haines. "She sent you for me?"

  Only the yellow blazing eyes made answer and the wail of a coyote faraway on the shadowy hill.

  "Kate!" cried Haines again, but now there was a world of new meaningin his voice. He swung his horse and spurred down the slope.

  At the next hill-crest he turned in the saddle, saw the motionlessrider still outlined against the sky, and brought the bay to a halt.He was greatly troubled. For a reason mysterious and far beyond thehorizon of his knowledge, Dan was surrendering Kate Cumberland to him.

  "He's doing it while he still loves her," muttered Haines, "and am Icur enough to take her from him after he has saved me from God knowswhat?"

  He turned his horse to ride back, but at that moment he caughtthe weird, the unearthly note of Dan's whistling. There was bothmelancholy and gladness in it. The storm wind running on the hills andexulting in the blind terror of the night had such a song as this tosing.

  "If he was a man," Haines argued briefly with himself, "I'd do it. Buthe isn't a man. He's a devil. He has no more heart than the wolf whichowns him as master. Shall I give a girl like Kate Cumberland to thatwild panther? She's mine--all mine!"

  Once more he turned his horse and this time galloped steadily on intothe night.

  When Haines dropped out of sight, Dan's whistling stopped. He lookedup to the pitiless glitter of the stars. He looked down to the sombresweep of black hills. The wind was like a voice saying over and overagain: "Failure." Everything was lost.

  He slipped from the saddle and took off his coat. From his leftshoulder the blood welled slowly, steadily. He tore a strip from hisshirt and attempted to make a bandage, but he could not manage it withone hand.

  The world thronged with hostile forces eager to hunt him to the death.He needed all his strength, and now that was ebbing from a wound whicha child could have staunched for him, but where could he find even afriendly child? Truly all was lost! The satyr or the black pantheronce had less need of man's help than had Dan, but now he was hurt inbody and soul. That matchless co-ordination of eye with hand and footwas gone. He saw Kate smiling into the eyes of Haines; he imaginedBill Kilduff sitting on the back of Satan, controlling all thatglorious force and speed; he saw Hal Purvis fighting venomously withBart for the mastery which eventually must belong to the man.

  He turned to the wild pair. Vaguely they sensed a danger threateningtheir master, and their eyes mourned for his hurt. He buried his faceon the strong, smooth shoulder of Satan, and groaned. There came theanswering whinny and the hot breath of the horse against the side ofhis face. There was the whine of Black Bart behind him, then the roughtongue of the wolf touched the dripping fingers. Then he felt a hotgust of the wolf's breath against his hand.

  Too late he realized what that meant. He whirled with a cry ofcommand, but the snarl of Black Bart cut it short. The wolf stoodbristling, trembling with eagerness for the kill, his great whitefangs gleaming, his snarl shrill and guttural with the frenzy of hisdesire, for he had tasted blood. Dan understood as he stared into theyellow green fury of the wolf's eyes, yet he felt no fear, only aglory in the fierce, silent conflict. He could not move the fingers ofhis left hand, but those of his right curved, stiffened. He desirednothing more in the world than the contact with that great, bristlingblack body, to leap aside from those ominous teeth, to set his fingersin the wolf's throat. Reason might have told him the folly of such astrife, but all that remained in his mind was the love of combat--ablind passion. His eyes glowed like those of the wolf, yellow fireagainst the green. Black Bart crouched still lower, gathering himselffor the spring, but he was held by the man's yellow gleaming eyes.They invited the battle. Fear set its icy hand on the soul of thewolf.

  The man seemed to tower up thrice his normal height. His voice rang,harsh, sudden, unlike the utterance of man or beast: "_Down!_"

  Fear conquered Black Bart. The fire died from his eyes. His body sankas if from exhaustion. He crawled on his belly to the feet of hismaster and whined an unutterable submission.

  And then that hand, warm and wet with the thing whose taste set thewolf's heart on fire with the lust to kill, was thrust against hisnose. He leaped back with bared teeth, growling horribly. The eyescommanded him back, commanded him relentlessly. He howled dismally tothe senseless stars, yet he came; and once more that hand was thrustagainst his nose. He licked the fingers.

  That blood-lust came hotter than before, but his fear was greater.He licked the strange hand again, whining. Then the master kneeled.Another hand, clean, and free from that horrible warm, wet sign ofdeath, fell upon his shaggy back. The voice which he knew of old cameto him, blew away the red mist from his soul, comforted him.

  "Poor Bart!" said the voice, and the hand went slowly over his head."It weren't your fault."

  The stallion whinnied softly. A deep growl formed in the throat of thewolf, a mighty effort at speech. A
nd now, like a gleam of light in adark room, Dan remembered the house of Buck Daniels. There, at least,they could not refuse him aid. He drew on his coat, though theeffort set him sweating with agony, got his foot in the stirrup withdifficulty, and dragged himself to the saddle. Satan started at aswift gallop.

  "Faster, Satan! Faster, partner!"

  What a response! The strong body settled a little closer to theearth as the stride increased. The rhythm of the pace grew quicker,smoother. There was no adequate phrase to describe the matchlessmotion. And in front--always just a little in front with the plungingforefeet of the horse seeming to threaten him at every stride, ranBlack Bart with his head turned as if he were the guard and guide ofthe fugitive.

  Dan called and Black Bart yelped in answer. Satan tossed up hishead and neighed as he raced along. The two replies were like humanassurances that there was still a fighting chance.

  The steady loss of blood was telling rapidly now. He clutched thepommel, set his teeth, and felt oblivion settle slowly and surely uponhim. As his senses left him he noted the black outlines of the nexthigh range of hills, a full ten miles away.

  He only knew the pace of Satan never slackened. There seemed no effortin it. He was like one of those fabled horses, the offspring of thewind, and like the wind, tireless, eternal of motion.

  A longer oblivion fell upon Dan. As he roused from it he foundhimself slipping in the saddle. He struggled desperately to grasp thesaddlehorn and managed to draw himself up again; but the warning wassufficient to make him hunt about for some means of making himselfmore secure in the saddle. It was a difficult task to do anythingwith only one hand, but he managed to tie his left arm to thebucking-strap. If the end came, at least he was sure to die in thesaddle. Vaguely he was aware as he looked around that the black hillswere no longer in the distance. He was among them.

  On went Satan. His breath was coming more and more laboured. It seemedto Dan's dim consciousness that some of the spring was gone from thatglorious stride which swept on and on with the slightest undulation,like a swallow skimming before the wind; but so long as strengthremained he knew that Satan would never falter in his pace. As thedelirium swept once more shadow-like on his brain, he allowed himselfto fall forward, and wound his fingers as closely as possible in thethick mane. His left arm jerked horribly against the bonds. Blacknight swallowed him once more.

  Only his invincible heart kept Satan going throughout that laststretch. His ears lay flat on his neck, lifting only when the mastermuttered and raved in his fever. Foam flew back against his throatand breast. His breath came shorter, harder, with a rasp; but thegibbering voice of his rider urged him on, faster, and faster. Theytopped a small hill, and a little to the left and a mile away, rosea group of cottonwoods, and Dan, recovering consciousness, knew thehouse of Buck. He also knew that his last moment of consciousness wascome. Surges of sleepy weakness swept over his brain. He could neverguide Satan to the house.

  "Bart!" he called feebly.

  The wolf whining, dropped back beside him. Dan pointed his right armstraight ahead. Black Bart leaped high into the air and his shrillyelp told that he had seen the cottonwoods and the house.

  Dan summoned the last of his power and threw the reins over the headof Satan.

  "Take us in, Bart," he said, and twisting his fingers into Satan'smane fell across the saddlehorn.

  Satan, understanding the throwing of the reins as an order to halt,came to a sharp stop, and the body of the senseless rider sagged toone side. Black Bart caught the reins. They were bitter and salt withblood of the master.

  He tugged hard. Satan whinnied his doubt, and the growl of Black Bartanswered, half a threat. In a moment more they were picking their waythrough the brush towards the house of Buck Daniels.

  Satan was far gone with exhaustion. His head drooped; his legssprawled with every step; his eyes were glazed. Yet he staggered onwith the great black wolf pulling at the reins. There was the salttaste of blood in the mouth of Black Bart; so he stalked on, salivadripping from his mouth, and his eyes glazed with the lust to kill.His furious snarling was the threat which urged on the stallion.