Then again he halted his company and, moving alone a short
way toward the horsemen, stood motionless, watching their slow approach.
Again Phil checked his horse. "God!" he exclaimed under his breath.
"What a sight! Oh, you beauty! You beauty!"
But Patches was moved less by the royal beauty of the wild stallion than
by the passionate reverence that vibrated in his companion's voice.
Again the two horsemen moved forward; and again the stallion drove his
band to a safe distance, and stood waiting between them and their
enemies.
Then the cowboy laughed aloud--a hearty laugh of clean enjoyment. "All
right, old fellow, I'll just give you a whirl for luck," he said aloud
to the wild horse, apparently forgetting his human companion.
And Patches saw him shorten his reins, and rise a little in his
stirrups, while his horse, as though understanding, gathered himself for
a spring. In a flash Patches was alone, watching as Phil, riding with
every ounce of strength that his mount could command, dashed straight
toward the band.
For a moment, the black stallion stood watching the now rapidly
approaching rider. Then, wheeling, he started his band, driving them
imperiously, now, to their utmost speed, and then, as though he
understood this new maneuver of the cowboy, he swept past his running
companions, with the clean, easy flight of an arrow, and taking his
place at the head of his charges led them away toward Granite Mountain.
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