He choked back the sob that fought to come. He knew he must concentrate his last energy, now. If he came through there would be time to think of his crime against the Captain! But now— Futures depend on lives. His life dangled in the balance, and he wanted it, as men can want life only when they feel it slipping.
Back there three men raked the streaming sides of their ponies with vicious spurs.
"He can't make it!" Rhues swore. "Th' black's quittin' now! If he gits away, what chance we got? We got to git him! It'll give us th' last chance!"
"We're killin' our horses," growled Matson.
And Julio, a length behind, flogged his pinto mercilessly.
No craving for VB's life prompted Rhues now. He must go on for the sake of his own safety. He and those other two had all to gain and nothing to lose. If they could drop the man ahead it would be possible to skirt the ranches, catch fresh horses, and make on toward Wyoming. But let VB gain shelter with Jed or any one else, and a posse would be on their trail before they could be beyond reach.
No, there could be no turning back! They had made their bet; now they must back it with the whole stack. And before them—that blot in the moonlight—a wounded, suffering man cried aloud to the horse that moved so heavily under him.
"Make it to the point, Captain!" he begged. "Just there! It'll be dark! Only a little faster, boy!"
The stallion grunted under the stress of his effort, moving for the moment with less uncertainty, with a jot more speed.
They crawled up to the point and followed the bend of the road as it led into the dimness of the gulch. Across the way, far to the right, moonlight fell on the cliffs, but where the road hung close to the rise at the left all was in shadow.