"Fit as ever," a hard smile curling his lips as he noted Cameron's omission."Hello, Hell!" he continued, his eyes falling upon that individual, who was struggling with the restive ponies, "how goes it with your noble self?"Hastily Hell, leaving the bronchos for the moment, responded, "Hello, Mr.Raven, mighty glad to see you!"Meantime the bronchos, freed from Hell's supervision, and apparently interested in the strange horse who was viewing them with lordly disdain, turned their heads and took the liberty of sniffing at the newcomer.Instantly, with mouth wide open and ears flat on his head, the black horse rushed at the bronchos.With a single bound they were off, the lines trailing in the dust.
Together Hell, Cameron and the doctor sprang for the wagon, but before they could touch it it was whisked from underneath their fingers as the bronchos dashed in a mad gallop down the trail, Moira meantime clinging desperately to the seat of the pitching wagon.After them darted Cameron and for some moments it seemed as if he could overtake the flying ponies, but gradually they drew away and he gave up the chase.After him followed the whole company, his wife, the doctor, Hell, all in a blind horror of helplessness.
"My God! My God!" cried Cameron, his breath coming in sobbing gasps."The cut bank!"Hardly were the words out of his mouth when Raven came up at an easy canter.
"Don't worry," he said quietly to Mandy, who was wringing her hands in despair, "I'll get them."Like a swallow for swiftness and for grace, the black stallion sped away, flattening his body to the trail as he gathered speed.The bronchos had a hundred yards of a start, but they had not run another hundred until the agonized group of watchers could see that the stallion was gaining rapidly upon them.
"He'll get 'em," cried Hell, "he'll get 'em, by gum!""But can he turn them from the bank?" groaned Mandy.
"If anything in horse-flesh or man-flesh can do it," said Hell, "it'll be done."But a tail-race is a long race and a hundred yards' start is a serious handicap in a quarter of a mile.Down the sloping trail the bronchos were running savagely, their noses close to earth, their feet on the hard ground like the roar of a kettledrum, their harness and trappings fluttering over their backs, the wagon pitching like a ship in a gale, the girl clinging to its high seat as a sailor to a swaying mast.Behind, and swiftly drawing level with the flying bronchos, sped the black horse, still with that smooth grace of a skimming swallow and with such ease of motion as made it seem as if he could readily have increased his speed had he so chosen.
"My God! why doesn't he send the brute along?" cried Dr.Martin, his stark face and staring eyes proclaiming his agony.
"He is up! He is up!" cried Cameron.
The agonized watchers saw the rider lean far over the bronchos and seize one line, then gradually begin to turn the flying ponies away from the cut bank and steer them in a wide circle across the prairie.
"Thank God! Thank God! Oh, thank God!" cried the doctor brokenly, wiping the sweat from his face.
"Let us go to head them off," said Cameron, setting off at a run, leaving the doctor and his wife to follow.
As they watched with staring eyes the racing horses they saw Raven bring back the line to the girl clinging to the wagon seat, then the black stallion, shooting in front of the ponies, began to slow down upon them, hampering their running till they were brought to an easy canter, and, under the more active discipline of teeth and hoofs, were forced to a trot and finally brought to a standstill, and so held till Cameron and the doctor came up to them.
