It was good to be back. It was good to feel that thick, firm neck again, to have the warm breath of the vital beast on his cheek, to sense his dominating presence—for it did dominate, even in that strained circumstance, and in the stress VB found half hysterical joy and voiced it:
"You didn't quit, Captain!" he cried as he felt the cinch hastily. "You didn't quit. They—that woman! She brought you here!"
He flung his arms about the stallion's head in a quick, nervous embrace at the cost of a mighty cutting pain across his chest.
Then the cautious voice of Rhues, outside and close up to the door, talking lowly and swiftly:
"Julio, saddle th' buckskin! Quick! I'll hold him here till we're ready! Then I'll shoot th' —— down in his tracks! We got to ride, anyhow—nothin' 'll make no difference now!"
Raising his voice, Rhues taunted:
"Pray, you ——! Yer goin' to cash!"
VB pressed his face to a crack and saw Rhues in the moonlight, close up to the door. He also saw another man, Julio, leading a horse from the corral on the run. Two other animals, saddled, stood near.
He was cornered, helpless, in their hands—hard hands, that knew no mercy. But he did not give up. His mind worked nimbly, skipping from possibility to possibility, looking, searching for a way out.
He reeled to the black horse and felt the animal's breath against the back of his neck.