A last desperate spurt, and Tom was swinging wildly toward the fire, his eyes fixed on the horse, which at this abrupt and startling reappearance of its owner began prancing about. This still further loosened the picket pin, and a blow from Tom’s foot as he passed sent it spinning over the ground.
A wild leap astride the back of the bridleless and saddleless horse was made just as the animal realized its freedom. It was a thrilling moment, in which a second’s time played a most important part.
Gripping the pony’s halter with all his force, Tom’s free hand came down hard on its flank. He saw the dark figure almost within reach, the muscular arm again extended. He heard a loud: “Whoa—whoa!” come from the man’s lips.
But the horse’s legs were already in motion. It plunged headlong through the underbrush, grazing a tree and causing the rider narrowly to escape being swept from its back. Only Tom’s long apprenticeship in the saddle saved him. Away he went over the prairie at a furious gallop, leaving the hollow and his assailant far in the rear.
Breathless with fatigue and excitement, Tom Clifton made no attempt to stop the furious dash of the frightened horse. The cool night air fanned his cheeks; he felt a sense of wild exhilaration. The victory was his. Even in those moments, with the ground slipping beneath him at terrific speed, he thought of the sensation his story would create.
“Get up, old boy, get up!” he yelled. “Hello—hello!”
On throwing a glance over his shoulder he had made an unpleasant discovery—the man was pursuing him on horseback.
Tom uttered a shrill whistle.
“He must have had his nag hidden somewhere among the trees,” he cried. “Well, well, this is an adventure, all right! But he’ll never get within ten yards of me.”
In the soft light of the moon the prairie presented a picture of the most poetic charm. It seemed as though he was plunging ahead into a land of dreams and unrealities. On one side the distant hills cut in a broken line against a sky of bluish green; shadows wrapped their base in mystery; and on the other the silent river glimmered faintly between the trees or lost its placid surface in somber grays.