Suddenly a shot rang out beyond the ranch-house, and the men jerked up their horses. There was no further need of concealment. They whirled and galloped straight toward the house. Another rifle shot rattled through the hills.
Regan caught a glimpse of a gray horse heading in their general direction, and he thought it was one of his own men, coming back from Cutter’s crowd; but the horse swung further to the north and then headed straight for the gate. The light was not so good, but he seemed to remember that none of them was riding a gray horse.
“There he goes!” yelled a cowboy. “That gray horse! It’s the one Pete rides! He’s heading for the gate!”
There was no chance for Regan and his men to head off this running horse. In some way Pete had luckily ridden between Cutter’s men and Regan’s detachment. Regan threw up his revolver and emptied it at the horse and rider, knowing that the gun would not be effective at that distance. One of his men carried a rifle, but his horse was a little gun-shy, and the fusilade from Regan’s gun had made the horse too jumpy for the rider to hope to hit anything. Cutter’s men were coming back, riding swiftly, but the man on the gray horse reached the gate. Riders were coming from all directions and they joined Regan near the gate. Old Moses Conley was forgotten now.
“Damn it, he must have seen us comin’!” panted a cowboy. “He broke for the east, but I took a shot at him, and he cut back this way. How did he get past you, Regan?”
“Didn’t see him in time,” growled Regan. “That gray horse wasn’t visible. Which way did he go from the gate?”
“North,” said Cutter. “C’mon!”
They strung out through the gate and galloped north, spreading out like a skirmish line, driving their horses as fast as possible. But every man knew how impossible it would be to catch Pete Conley now. The half-breed knew every angle of the country better than any one else, and with that almost invisible gray horse he could ride into a clump of brush, wait until the riders passed him and then double back.
For thirty minutes they rode straight ahead, searching the country. Regan was about to call the men in and wait until morning, when they saw their quarry silhouetted against the sky on a narrow ridge. He seemed to be waiting for them. Then he dropped off the ridge, seemingly unhurried.
All the men of the posse had seen him. But their horses were getting winded, the traveling was mostly up-hill. They reached the ridge and drew rein. Regan called them together and they held a parley. On the next ridge, not over two hundred yards away, appeared the rider again. He stopped and appeared to be watching them. Cutter borrowed a rifle and fired two shots, but neither seemed to have any effect.