To continue the chase of him were only to knock the horses up in fruitless pursuit. No! he must be abandoned. With liberty uncurtailed let him roam the wilds, fancy free. The station runaways remain, as well as others that will be of value and service.
So wisely reasoned man, but not so the warrigal. Foiled in his purpose, regardless of his own pursuit, the great equine leader wheeled in a wide circle, uttering the while shrill neighs to attract his consorts. 'Tis for naught, however, that he utters challenge to his enemies and appeal to his mates. The stockmen have ringed the mob, and now at a slower pace they continue the drive; the men opening out, and keeping abreast the leading horses.
And now the iron-bark clump is near at hand. To this the enraged stallion gallops. The wing men, on the alert, watch this last manoeuvre, and line out to intercept him should he make for the hills. Such was not his intention, though; and their appearance only accelerates the execution of his determination, which was simply to regain his companions; this he did with a rush, no one saying nay.
M'Intyre and his men were careful not to push the driven beasts, but were content to let them make the pace. And now at a swinging canter—old mares well up, despite all fatigue—-they struck the clump, and passed the point to which the wing extended. The wing men, joining in the cavalcade by orders of their leader, pass to the right flank and reinforce the drivers there.
They are now within half a mile of the trap. At a preconcerted signal the men close up, and amid an unceasing fusilade of stock-whip crackings the beasts are hustled, the rear men flogging up the lagging ones.
The calico wing acts effectually on the one side, allowing a strong line to form up on the other. Barring accidents, the hunt is as good as finished; for in a moment or two the horses will be entering the trap mouth.
The outlaw is leading the mob in a direct line for the yard. But, stay! His keen eyes sight the fence. It is a trap! Past adventures flood his recollection and shape judgment and determination. Inside the trap, death or slavery! Outside, liberty!
Is it too late? No! By the ashes of his fathers he will elude his would-be captors! His faithful spouses, naught, alas! will save them. Let those who dare follow him! Away, then!
With a wild rush, when within some two hundred yards of the trap mouth, he turns swiftly to the right at a tangent, so as to head his enemies and cut away on the outside of the fence.
The gallant grey well deserves his freedom. His courage, devotion, and intelligence should surely prevail upon the men. But the pursuers were not indulging in any sentiment just then, and as soon as his last tactic was revealed the race of interception was begun. He might yet have escaped, for he was full of running, but, alas! the unseen foe!