"Hold up, man—hold up!" came the voice of Audubon. "You'll kill our steeds at this rate!"
"When they die, your led horses remain," flung back Norton, and dug in his heels once more. His beast was white with foam already, but held to its steady gallop; all the horses were finely bred, out of the best blue-grass country around Louisville, and could be depended on till the last.
Without slacking the mad gait, Norton drew in his second horse; flinging his leg over the saddle, he changed seats successfully. It was a splendid bit of horsemanship, but his followers could not emulate it.
"Hold up, Norton!" roared Taylor. "Wait for us to change——"
"I'm after Duval," he retorted, and looked around. "Let the rest wait!"
Half the fourteen were already drawing rein, preparing to change their mounts; Audubon alone swung to his spare horse at full gallop, and pounded on with a ringing laugh.
Five minutes later Norton saw a man standing in the road ahead, and drew in slightly. The man was a settler, watching them in staring wonder.
"Anyone passed?" flung out Norton, pulling up.
"Two men—three horses, fifteen minutes since," came the answer. "What's gwine on——?"
"After them!" shouted Norton, and loosened his reins.