They were now racing in the dark along the ridge of a deep coulee, the wall on the right of which went down steeply to a depth of thirty or more feet.
Ted could not see the way, but he knew that they were riding a perilous path, and that a slip of the foot or a rolling rock might cost them their lives.
But he knew Sultan's feet were sure, and that unless an accident which could not be avoided took place, they were safe.
He had so gained on Woofer that he could now see him dimly outlined against the sky in advance of him.
If it were only level ground on which he could urge Sultan, it would not be a matter of more than a few minutes before he would be up with him.
But evidently Woofer saw him, also, for there was the flash of a revolver, and a ball sang past Ted's head.
He dared not fire in return for fear of hitting Singing Bird.
But the race must end soon, for Ted was steadily gaining.
At length they swept down from the ridge and into the coulee, along the level bottom of which they galloped, Sultan always edging up, closer and closer to Magpie, who evidently was slowing down.
Now Ted spoke to Sultan and urged him for the first time, and the gallant little beast spurted forward, and in an instant's time was abreast of the other horse.