And if you come with me, you come
free and you stay free. I don't want to set no brand on you. If you
stay it's because you like me, boy; and when you want to leave the
corral gate will be sure open. Are you coming along?"
The fingers of that gentle hand had tangled in the mane of Alcatraz,
drawing him softly forward. He braced his feet, snorting, his ears
back. Instantly the pressure on his mane ceased. Alcatraz stepped
forward.
"By God," breathed the man. "It's true! Alcatraz, old hoss, d'you
think I'd ever of tried to make a slave out of you if I'd guessed that
I could make you a partner?"
Behind them, the rattle of volleying hoofs was sweeping closer. The
rain had ceased. The air was a perfect calm, and the very grunt of the
racing horses was faintly audible and the cursing of the men as they
urged their mounts forward. Towards that approaching fear, Alcatraz
turned his head. They came as though they would run him into the
river. But what did it all mean? So long as one man stood beside him,
he was shielded from the enmity of all other men. That had been true
even in the regime of the dastardly Cordova.
"Steady!" gasped Red Perris. "They're coming like bullets, Alcatraz,
old timer! Steady!"
One hand rested on the withers, the other on the back of the chestnut,
and he raised himself gingerly up.
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