" He
lowered his voice and his eyes bulged with the terror of his tidings:
"Feed him the leather; ride to beat hell; never stop while your hoss can
raise a trot; and then slide off your hoss and get another. Son, in
three days Mac Strann'll be on your trail!"
He stepped back and waved his arms.
"Now, _vamos!_"
The black stallion flicked back its ears and winced from the outflung
hands, but the rider remained imperturbed.
"I never heard of Mac Strann," said Barry.
"You never heard of Mac Strann?" echoed the other.
"But I'd like to meet him," said Barry.
The deputy marshal blinked his eyes rapidly, as though he needed to
clear his vision.
"Son," he said hoarsely. "I c'n see you're game. But don't make a fall
play. If Mac Strann gets you, he'll California you like a yearling. You
won't have no chance. You've done for Jerry, there ain't a doubt of
that, but Jerry to Mac is like a tame cat to a mountain-lion. Lad, I c'n
see you're a stranger to these parts, but ask me your questions and I'll
tell you the best way to go."
Barry slipped from the saddle.
He said: "I'd like to know the best place to put up my hoss."
The deputy marshal was speechless.
"But I s'pose," went on Barry, "I can stable him over there behind the
hotel."
Matthews pushed off his sombrero and rubbed his short fingers through
his hair. Anger and amazement still choked him, but he controlled
himself by a praiseworthy effort.
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