"No, I won't. He owes me money, and I'll make him pay me!"
"Don't! Thar, I've warned you, David Lorimer, and that let's me out. Take your own way now."
For half an hour David pondered this caution, and something in his own heart seconded it. But when the trial of his temper came he turned a deaf ear to every monition. Whaley went swaggering by him, and as he passed issued an unnecessary order in a very insolent manner. David asked pointedly, "Were you speaking to me, Captain?"
"I was."
"Then don't you dare to do it again, sir; never, as long as you live!"
Before the words were out of his mouth, every one of the drove of eight thousand were on their feet like a flash of lightning; every one of them exactly at the same instant. With a rush like a whirlwind leveling a forest, they were off in the darkness.
The wild clatter, the crackling of a river of horns, and the thundering of hoofs, was deafening. Whaley, seeing eighty thousand dollars' worth of cattle running away from him, turned with a fierce imprecation, and gave David a passionate order "to ride up to the leaders," and then he sprang for his own mule.
David's time was now fully out, and he drew his horse's rein tight and stood still.
"Coward!" screamed Whaley; "try and forget for an hour that you have Spanish blood in you."
A pistol shot answered the taunt. Whaley staggered a second, then fell without a word. The whole scene had not occupied a minute; but it was a minute that branded itself on the soul of David Lorimer. He gazed one instant on the upturned face of his slain enemy, and then gave himself up to the wild passion of the pursuit.