The boldness of these proceedings taught Perris what he already knew,
that the stallion knew man and hated as much as he dreaded his former
masters. These excursions were temptings of Providence, games
of hazard. Perris, gambler by instinct himself, understood and
appreciated, at the same time that his anger at being so constantly
outwitted, outdistanced, grew hot. Then there remained no kindness,
only desire to make the kill. His dreams had come to turn on one
picture--Alcatraz cantering in range of the waiting rifle!
That dream haunted even his walking moments as he lay here on the
hilltop, wondering if he had not been mistaken in selecting this place
of all the range. Yet he had chosen it with care as one of the points
of passage for Alcatraz during the stallion's wanderings to the four
quarters of his domains and though since he took up his station
here an imp of the perverse kept the stallion far away, the watcher
remained on guard, baked and scorched by the midday sun, constantly
surveying the lower hills nearby or sweeping more distant reaches with
his glass. This day he felt the long vigil to be definitely a failure,
for the sun was behind the western summits and the time of deepening
shadows most unfavorable to marksmanship had come.
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