Ten minutes later Taylor's horse foundered and the old border fighter fell behind, swearing volubly. Now there were but six men after Norton, and a little later they perceived how desperate was Duval's plight when they came upon a dying horse in the road, still saddled.
"After them!" shouted Norton again.
Duval and his companion had but three horses at the start, and had killed one of those; with luck, the chase would now be short. Norton's steeds were both white with foam, trembling as they pounded onward, but there was good distance in them yet, and his changes kept them fairly freshened.
Still the miles thundered behind them, and now there were but five men at his heels, for one had gone down. Audubon shouted out as they dipped down toward another canebrake.
"Five miles more and we get fresh horses! There's a tavern where they keep changes——"
His words were drowned in a scream from one of the men close behind. Up from the canebrake a hundred yards ahead drifted a little fleck of white; in the road lay a struggling horse.
"Run to earth!" yelled Norton, never looking back at the man who dragged in his stirrup, shot through the heart. "On them!"
He knew his mistake the next moment, however. Duval was not run to earth yet; it was his companion whose horse had gone down, and who had thus tempted fate. Norton went into the canes with a wild leap; he plunged on the riverman before the latter could reload.
The riverman, a tall bearded scoundrel, flashed up a pistol at Norton and the bullet flew through his hair. The Louisianian rode him down; the horse stumbled at the impact, and Norton went over the brute's head into the muck. Rising, he heard a rifle bang out and caught his steed's bridle over the relaxing body of the riverman. Ayres lowered his rifle, white-faced.
"No hurt," cried Norton. "After him!"