"I'll have you safe in another moment," he called to her by way of encouragement, as the silver beast came up to the sorrel's rump.
He did not understand the look she threw back to him, nor her effort to swerve the filly with the single rein that remained in her clutch.
"Don't!" he shouted. "Can't you understand? I mean to pick you off. I'll not drop you."
Every lunge of the big gray brought him nearer, even though the supposed promise of the competition seemed to give the other horse increased speed. Knowing what was expected of him, Silver needed no guiding hand.
Now he could have reached out and touched her. Next moment his horse fell into the other's stride and the fruit was ripe for plucking.
"Loose your knee grip!" he ordered with authority. "Don't be afraid." His voice was assured, and, indeed, there was small risk for her in the arms of one trained and hardened as was Childress. But this young woman, who never before had seen him, nor even ever heard of him, could not know that.
That she shrank from him he laid entirely to her panic. Nerving himself for supreme effort, he planted his weight firmly upon the shoe of the right stirrup and leaned toward her.
The cry which sprang from her lips was surely a warning, but did not deter him. His arm flung around a fragile waist and his grip tightened. Then, with a mighty heave, he lifted her clear of the English saddle and swung her into his own seat, finding a perch for himself upon the cantle.
At the moment there were no complications. The sorrel thoroughbred, relieved of the rider's weight, broke her stride, veered to one side and slackened her pace. Silver eased down at command and slid to a stiff-legged stop. Only the coyote and the hounds, now led by Poison, the interloper, continued the mad dash across the prairie.
"What did you do that for?" came the indignant demand from the fair unknown in his arms. A breath hot with anger caressed his cheek.