At the same instant, another smoke-clad figure lunged from the door of
the barn, his hands outstretched as though he felt and fumbled his way
through utter darkness. It was Buck Daniels, and as he cleared the door
the section of tottering wall which he had upheld to keep the way clear
for the Three, wavered, sagged, and then sank in thunder to the floor,
and the whole barn lay a flame-tossed mass of ruin.
The watchers had scattered before the plunge of Satan, but he came to a
sliding halt, as if his rider had borne heavily back upon the reins.
Barry slipped from the stallion's back with the wounded dog, and kneeled
above the limp figure.
"It ain't the end," growled Mac Strann, "that hoss will go runnin' back
into the fire. It ain't hoss nature to keep from goin' mad at the sight
of a fire!"
In answer to him, the black stallion whirled, raised his head high, and,
with flaunting mane and tail, neighed a ringing defiance at the rising
flames. Then he turned back and nuzzled the shoulder of his master, who
was working with swift hands over the body of Black Bart.
"Anyway," snarled Haw-Haw Langley, "the damned wolf is dead."
"I dunno," said Mac Strann. "Maybe--maybe not. They's quite a pile that
we dunno."
"If you want to get rid of the hoss," urged Haw-Haw, writhing in the
glee of a new inspiration, "now's the time for it, Mac. Get out your gun
and pot the black. Before the crowd can get after us, we'll be miles
away.
Pages:
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195