However, he was in excellent
position to maneuver for a throw in case Alcatraz tried to slip by.
Therefore he now brought his pony to a slow lope, and loosening his
rope, he swung the noose in a wide circle; he was ready to plunge to
either side and cast the lariat.
Being nearer to the river than to the canon wall it was in the latter
direction that the stallion found the wider free space and towards it,
accordingly, he directed his flight, running as he had only run when
the lofer wolf dogged his heels. It was only a feint. His eye was
too keen in the calculation of distances and relative speeds not to
realize that the cowpony would beat him to the goal, yet he kept up
his furious pace even when Perris had checked his horse to a trot.
Straight on swept Alcatraz until he saw the glitter of the hunter's
eyes beneath the wide brim of his sombrero--then he braced his legs,
knocking up a small shower of sand and rocks, swerved to the left, and
bolted for the river bank.
Even as he made the move, though blinded by the fierceness of his own
effort, he knew that it would be a tight squeeze. Had the pony under
Perris possessed half of its ordinary speed of foot it would easily
have headed the fugitive or at the least brought its rider in
rope-throw, now, outworn by the long trail it had followed, the little
animal stumbled and almost fell when Perris with iron hand swung it
around.
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