And Perris made no attempt to throw the rope again. He allowed it to
lie limp and wet on the gravel, but turning to watch that magnificent
body, shining from the river, he saw the lines of Hervey's hunters
coming swinging across the plain, riding to the limit of the speed of
their horses.
This was the end, then. In ten minutes, or less, they would be on him,
and he without a gun in his hands!
As though he saw the same approaching line of riders, Alcatraz whirled
on the edge of the sand, but he did not turn to flee. Instead, he
lifted his head and turned his bright eyes on the Great Enemy, and
stood there trembling at their nearness! The heart of Perris leaped.
A great hope which he dared not frame in thought rushed through his
mind, and he stepped slowly forward, his hand extended, his voice
caressing. The chestnut winced one step back, and then waited,
snorting. There he waited, trembling with fear, chained by curiosity,
and ready to leap away in arrowy flight should the sun wink on the
tell-tale brightness of steel or the noosed rope dart whispering
through the air above him. But there was no such sign of danger. The
man came steadily on with his right hand stretched out palm up in the
age-old token of amity, and as he approached he kept talking.
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