The horses from St. Vincent already wheezed from the run, but the mounts of the posse were staggering completely blown. Ever since they left Rickett they had been going at close to top speed and the last rush finished them; at least seven of that chosen fifteen would never be worth their salt again, and they stood with hanging heads, bloody foam upon their breasts and dripping from their mouths, their sides laboring, and breathing with that rattle which the rider dreads. The posse, to a man, swung sullenly to the ground.
“Who's boss, boys?” called Johnny Gasney, puffing in his saddle as he rode up. “By God, we'll get him yet! They's a devil in that black hoss! Who's boss?”
“I ain't exactly boss,” answered Mark Retherton, whom not even fear of death could hurry in his ways of speech, “but maybe I can talk for the boys. What you want, Johnny?”
“You gents'll be needin' new hosses?”
“We'll be needin' graves for the ones we got,” growled Mark, and he stared gloomily at the dull eye of his pinto. “The best cuttin' out hoss I ever throwed a leg over, and now—look at him!”
“Here's your relay!” cut in Johnny Gasney. “Old Billy 'phoned down.” Five men came leading three spare horses apiece. “He phoned down and asked me to get fifteen hosses ready. He must of guessed where Barry would head. And here they are—the best ponies in St. Vincent—but for God's sake use 'em better'n you did that set!”
The other members of the posse set to work silently changing their saddles to the new relay, and Mark Retherton tossed his answer over his shoulder to Johnny Gasney while he drew his cinch brutally tight.
“They's a pile of hoss-flesh in these parts, but they ain't more'n one Barry. You gents can say good-bye to your hosses unless we nail him before they're run down.”
Johnny Gasney rubbed his red, fat forehead, perplexed.
“It's all right,” he decided, “because it ain't possible the black hoss can outlast these. But—he sure seemed full of runnin! One thing more, Mark. You don't need to fear pressin' Barry, because he won't shoot. He had his gun out, but I guess he don't want to run up his score any higher'n it is. He put it back without firin' a shot. Go on, boys, and go like hell. Billy has lined up a new relay for you at Wago.”