"Pull up!" shouted Lew Hervey, in sudden realization that Alcatraz
would slip through the trap. "Pull up! And shoot for Perris! Pull up!"
They obeyed, wrenching their horses to a halt, and as they drew them
up, Red Jim, with a yell of triumph, straightened on the back of the
flying horse and waved back to them. The next instant his shout of
defiance was cut short by the bark of three rifles, as Hervey and
Shorty and Little Joe, having halted their horses, pitched their guns
to their shoulders and let blaze after the fugitive. There was a sting
along the shoulder of Perris as though a red hot knife had slashed
him; a bullet had grazed the skin.
Ah, but they would have a hard target to strike, from now on! The
trick which Alcatraz had learned in his own flights from the hunters
he now brought back into play. He began to swerve from side to side as
he raced.
Another volley roared from the cursing cowpunchers behind them, but
every bullet flew wide as the chestnut swerved.
"Damn him!" yelled Lew Hervey. "Has the hoss put the charm on the hide
of that skunk, too?"
For in the fleeing form of Red Perris he saw all his hopes eluding
his grasp. With Red Jim escaped and his promise to the rancher
unfulfilled, what would become of his permanent hold on Oliver Jordan?
Ay, and Red Jim, once more in safety and mounted on that matchless
horse, would swoop down on the Valley of the Eagles and strike to
kill, again, again, and again!
No wonder there was an agony shrill in the voice of the foreman as he
shouted: "Once more!"
Up went the shining barrels of the rifles, followed the swerving form
of the horseman for a moment, and then, steadied to straight, gleaming
lines, they fired at the same instant, as though in obedience to an
unspoken order.
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