Now it was lost, swamped, to all appearances, under a
score of trampling hooves. Again it reappeared on the further side. Mac
Strann could see the runner in a comparatively open space, racing like a
trained sprinter, and he headed straight towards a wall of tossing
horns. They were long-horns, and one sway of those lowered heads could
drive the hard, sharp point through and through the body of a man. Yet
straight at this impassable wall the stranger rushed, like a warrior in
his Berserker madness leaping naked upon a hedge of spears. At the verge
of the danger the man sprang high into the air. Two leaps, from back to
back among the herd, and he was across the thickest of danger, down once
more on the ground, and dodging past the outskirts of the bellowing
cows. Over the nearer fence he vaulted and disappeared into the smoke
which vomitted from the mouth of the burning barn.
"God A'mighty," groaned Haw-Haw Langley, "can he get the hoss out?"
"It ain't possible," answered Mac Strann. "All hosses goes mad when
they gets in a fire--even when they sees a fire. Look at them fools over
yonder in the corral."
Indeed, in the horse-corral a score of frantic animals were attempting
to leap the high rails in the direction of the burning barn. Their
stamping and snorting came volleying up the hill to the watchers.
"All hosses goes mad," concluded Mac Strann, "an' Barry'll get tramped
under the feet of his own hoss even if he gets to the stall--which he
won't.
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