By his own act he had
changed the aim of the hunter to a yet more fatal target--the
forehead.
The heart of Perris leaped even as it had stirred, more than once,
when he had looked into the eyes of fighting men. Here was an equal
pride, an equal fierceness looking forth at him. Then he remembered
the six mares somewhere at the center of the guarding circle which
Alcatraz now drew. What a dauntless courage was here in the brute mind
which, knowing the power of man, dared to rob him, to defy him! Truly
this was the king of horses meant for higher ends than to serve as
target of a Winchester. Ay, he could make his owner a king among men.
Mounted on the back of the chestnut no enemy could overtake him; from
that winged speed none could escape. The back of Alcatraz might be a
throne! He could end all that boundless strength by one pressure of
his finger but was that indeed a true conquest? It was calling to his
aid a trick, it was using an unfair advantage, it seemed to Perris;
but suppose that he, the rider who had never yet failed in the saddle,
were to sit on the stallion--there would be a battle for the Gods to
witness!
It was madness, sheer madness; it was throwing away the labor of the
patient days of waiting and working; but to Perris it seemed the only
thing to do.
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