The
wiles which he had learned in many a struggle with the Mexican were
not forgotten and the tricks which had so often nearly unseated
the old master could now be executed with threefold energy. In the
meantime he waited quietly, assuming an air of the most perfect
meekness, with the toe of one hind foot pointed so that he sagged
wearily on that side, and with his head lowered in all the appearance
of mild subjection.
The cinches bit deep into his flesh. He tasted that horror of iron
in his mouth, with this great distinction: that whereas the bits of
Manuel Cordova had been heavy instruments of torture this was a light
thing, smooth and straight and without the wheel of spikes. The crisis
was coming. He felt the weight of the rider fall on the left stirrup,
the reins were gathered, then Perris swung lightly into the saddle and
leaning, snatched the blindfold from the eyes of the stallion.
One instant Alcatraz waited for the sting of the spurs, the resounding
crack of the heavy quirt, the voice of the rider raised in curses; but
all was silence. The very feel of the man in the saddle was different,
not so much in poundage as in a certain exquisite balance which he
maintained but the pause lasted no longer than a second after the
welcome daylight flashed on the eyes of Alcatraz.
Pages:
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221