"Oh, Captain! You were the price!" he moaned.
But still he wanted—just one drink! Not to satisfy that craving now, but to keep him alive, a legitimate use for stimulant.
The stallion ceased pretense of galloping. Now and then he even dropped from his uncertain trotting to a walk.
VB, watching behind, could just make out those other travelers in the light of the low-hanging moon which seemed to balance on the ragged horizon and linger for sight of the finish of this grim drama worked out in the lonely stretches. As the horse stumbled more and more frequently under him VB knew that those who pressed him were coming closer. Then a flash of flame and a bullet spattered itself against a rock ahead and to the right.
"They're closer, Captain!" he muttered grimly. "The game's going against us—against you. I'm too much of a burden—too much weight."
His mind seized upon the aimless words. The suddenness of his shifting in the saddle made the stallion stagger, for VB's whole weight went into the right stirrup. He drew the other up with fiendish tinges shooting through his breast and tore at the cinch. It came loose. The saddle turned. VB flung his arms about the Captain's neck and kicked it from under him.
"Fifty pounds gone!" he muttered triumphantly, and the horse tossed his head, quickening the trot, trying once again the heavy gallop.
VB could hear the horse breathing through his mouth. He looked down and saw that the long tongue flopped from the lips with every movement of the fine head. Tears came to his eyes as he caressed the Captain's withers frantically.
"Can I do more, boy?" he asked in a strained voice. "Can I do more?"
It was as though he pleaded with a dying human.