riders of the purple sage-第46节

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e　him　in　sullen；　almost　cold　possession　of　his　will。　It　was　a　deadly　mood；　utterly　foreign　to　his　nature；　engendered；　fostered；　and　released　by　the　wild　passions　of　wild　men　in　a　wild　country。　The　strength　in　him　thenthe　thing　rife　in　him　that　was　note　hate；　but　something　as　remorselessmight　have　been　the　fiery　fruition　of　a　whole　lifetime　of　vengeful　quest。　Nothing　could　have　stopped　him。

Venters　thought　out　the　race　shrewdly。　The　rider　on　Bells　would　probably　drop　behind　and　take　to　the　sage。　What　he　did　was　of　little　moment　to　Venters。　To　stop　Jerry　Card；　his　evil　hidden　career　as　well　as　his　present　flight；　and　then　to　catch　the　blacksthat　was　all　that　concerned　Venters。　The　cattle　trail　wound　for　miles　and　miles　down　the　slope。　Venters　saw　with　a　rider's　keen　vision　ten；　fifteen；　twenty　miles　of　clear　purple　sage。　There　were　no　on…coming　riders　or　rustlers　to　aid　Card。　His　only　chance　to　escape　lay　in　abandoning　the　stolen　horses　and　creeping　away　in　the　sage　to　hide。　In　ten　miles　Wrangle　could　run　Black　Star　and　Night　off　their　feet；　and　in　fifteen　he　could　kill　them　outright。　So　Venters　held　the　sorrel　in；　letting　Card　make　the　running。　It　was　a　long　race　that　would　save　the　blacks。

In　a　few　miles　of　that　swinging　canter　Wrangle　had　crept　appreciably　closer　to　the　three　horses。　Jerry　Card　turned　again；　and　when　he　saw　how　the　sorrel　had　gained；　he　put　Black　Star　to　a　gallop。　Night　and　Bells；　on　either　side　of　him；　swept　into　his　stride。

Venters　loosened　the　rein　on　Wrangle　and　let　him　break　into　a　gallop。　The　sorrel　saw　the　horses　ahead　and　wanted　to　run。　But　Venters　restrained　him。　And　in　the　gallop　he　gained　more　than　in　the　canter。　Bells　was　fast　in　that　gait；　but　Black　Star　and　Night　had　been　trained　to　run。　Slowly　Wrangle　closed　the　gap　down　to　a　quarter　of　a　mile；　and　crept　closer　and　closer。

Jerry　Card　wheeled　once　more。　Venters　distinctly　saw　the　red　flash　of　his　red　face。　This　time　he　looked　long。　Venters　laughed。　He　knew　what　passed　in　Card's　mind。　The　rider　was　trying　to　make　out　what　horse　it　happened　to　be　that　thus　gained　on　Jane　Withersteen's　peerless　racers。　Wrangle　had　so　long　been　away　from　the　village　that　not　improbably　Jerry　had　forgotten。　Besides；　whatever　Jerry's　qualifications　for　his　fame　as　the　greatest　rider　of　the　sage；　certain　it　was　that　his　best　point　was　not　far…sightedness。　He　had　not　recognized　Wrangle。　After　what　must　have　been　a　searching　gaze　he　got　his　comrade　to　face　about。　This　action　gave　Venters　amusement。　It　spoke　so　surely　of　the　facts　that　neither　Card　nor　the　rustler　actually　knew　their　danger。　Yet　if　they　kept　to　the　trailand　the　last　thing　such　men　would　do　would　be　to　leave　itthey　were　both　doomed。

This　comrade　of　Card's　whirled　far　around　in　his　saddle；　and　he　even　shaded　his　eyes　from　the　sun。　He；　too；　looked　long。　Then；　all　at　once；　he　faced　ahead　again　and；　bending　lower　in　the　saddle；　began　to　fling　his　right　arm　up　and　down。　That　flinging　Venters　knew　to　be　the　lashing　of　Bells。　Jerry　also　became　active。　And　the　three　racers　lengthened　out　into　a　run。

〃Now；　Wrangle！〃　cried　Venters。　〃Run；　you　big　devil！　Run！〃

Venters　laid　the　reins　on　Wrangle's　neck　and　dropped　the　loop　over　the　pommel。　The　sorrel　needed　no　guiding　on　that　smooth　trail。　He　was　surer…footed　in　a　run　than　at　any　other　fast　gait；　and　his　running　gave　the　impression　of　something　devilish。　He　might　now　have　been　actuated　by　Venters's　spirit；　undoubtedly　his　savage　running　fitted　the　mood　of　his　rider。　Venters　bent　forward　swinging　with　the　horse；　and　gripped　his　rifle。　His　eye　measured　the　distance　between　him　and　Jerry　Card。

In　less　than　two　miles　of　running　Bells　began　to　drop　behind　the　blacks；　and　Wrangle　began　to　overhaul　him。　Venters　anticipated　that　the　rustler　would　soon　take　to　the　sage。　Yet　he　did　not。　Not　improbably　he　reasoned　that　the　powerful　sorrel　could　more　easily　overtake　Bells　in　the　heavier　going　outside　of　the　trail。　Soon　only　a　few　hundred　yards　lay　between　Bells　and　Wrangle。　Turning　in　his　saddle；　the　rustler　began　to　shoot；　and　the　bullets　beat　up　little　whiffs　of　dust。　Venters　raised　his　rifle；　ready　to　take　snap　shots；　and　waited　for　favorable　opportunity　when　Bells　was　out　of　line　with　the　forward　horses。　Venters　had　it　in　him　to　kill　these　men　as　if　they　were　skunk…bitten　coyotes；　but　also　he　had　restraint　enough　to　keep　from　shooting　one　of　Jane's　beloved　Arabians。

No　great　distance　was　covered；　however；　before　Bells　swerved　to　the　left；　out　of　line　with　Black　Star　and　Night。　Then　Venters；　aiming　high　and　waiting　for　the　pause　between　Wrangle's　great　strides；　began　to　take　snap　shots　at　the　rustler。　The　fleeing　rider　presented　a　broad　target　for　a　rifle；　but　he　was　moving　swiftly　forward　and　bobbing　up　and　down。　Moreover；　shooting　from　Wrangle's　back　was　shooting　from　a　thunderbolt。　And　added　to　that　was　the　danger　of　a　low…placed　bullet　taking　effect　on　Bells。　Yet；　despite　these　considerations；　making　the　shot　exceedingly　difficult；　Venters's　confidence；　like　his　implacability；　saw　a　speedy　and　fatal　termination　of　that　rustler's　race。　On　the　sixth　shot　the　rustler　threw　up　his　arms　and　took　a　flying　tumble　off　his　horse。　He　rolled　over　and　over；　hunched　himself　to　a　half…erect　position；　fell；　and　then　dragged　himself　into　the　sage。　As　Venters　went　thundering　by　he　peered　keenly　into　the　sage；　but　caught　no　sign　of　the　man。　Bells　ran　a　few　hundred　yards；　slowed　up；　and　had　stopped　when　Wrangle　passed　him。

Again　Venters　began　slipping　fresh　cartridges　into　the　magazine　of　his　rifle；　and　his　hand　was　so　sure　and　steady　that　he　did　not　drop　a　single　cartridge。　With　the　eye　of　a　rider　and　the　judgment　of　a　marksman　he　once　more　measured　the　distance　between　him　and　Jerry　Card。　Wrangle　had　gained；　bringing　him　into　rifle　range。　Venters　was　hard　put　to　it　now　not　to　shoot；　but　thought　it　better　to　withhold　his　fire。　Jerry；　who；　in　anticipation　of　a　running　fusillade；　had　huddled　himself　into　a　little　twisted　ball　on　Black　Star's　neck；　now　surmising　that　this　pursuer　would　make　sure　of　not　wounding　one　of　the　blacks；　rose　to　his　natural　seat　in　the　saddle。

In　his　mind　perhaps；　as　certainly　as　in　Venters's；　this　moment　was　the　beginning　of　the　real　race。

Venters　leaned　forward　to　put　his　hand　on　Wrangle's　neck；　then　backward　to　put　it　on　his　flank。　Under　the　shaggy；　dusty　hair　trembled　and　vibrated　and　rippled　a　wonderful　muscular　activity。　But　Wrangle's　flesh　was　still　cold。　What　a　cold…blooded　brute　thought　Venters；　and　felt　in　him　a　love　for　the　horse　he　had　never　given　to　any　other。　It　would　not　have　been　humanly　possible　for　any　rider；　even　though　clutched　by　hate　or　revenge　or　a　passion　to　save　a　loved　one　or　fear　of　his　own　life；　to　be　astride　the　sorrel　to　swing　with　his　swing；　to　see　his　magnificent　stride　and　hear　the　rapid　thunder　of　his　hoofs；　to　ride　him　in　that　race　and　not　glory　in　the　ride。

So；　with　his　passion　to　kill　still　keen　and　unabated；　Venters　lived　out　that　ride；　and　drank　a　rider's　sage…sweet　cup　of　wildness　to　the　dregs。

When　Wrangle's　long　mane；　lashing　in　the　wind；　stung　Venters　in　the　cheek；　the　sting　added　a　beat　to　his　flying　pulse。　He　bent　a　downward　glance　to　try　to　see　Wrangle's　actual　stride；　and　saw　only　twinkling；　darting　streaks　and　the　white　rush　of　the　trail。　He　watched　the　sorrel's　savage　head；　pointed　level；　his　mouth　still　closed　and　dry；　but　his　nostrils　distended　as　if　he　were　snorting　unseen　fire。　Wrangle　was　the　horse　for　a　race　with　death。　Upon　each　side　Venters　saw　the　sage　merged　into　a　sailing；　colorless　wall。　In　front　sloped　the　lay　of　ground　with　its　purple　breadth　split　by　the　white　trail。　The　wind；　blowing　with　heavy；　steady　blast　into　his　face；　sickened　him　with　enduring；　sweet　odor；　and　filled　his　ears　with　a　hollow；　rushing　roar。

Then　for　the　hundredth　time　he　measured　the　width　of　space　separating　him　from　Jerry　Card。　Wrangle　had　ceased　to　gain。　The　blacks　were　proving　their　fleetness。　Venters　watched　Jerry　Card；　admiring　the　little　rider's　horsemanship。　He　had　the　incomparable　seat　of　the　upland　rider；　born　in　the　saddle。　It　struck　Venters　that　Card　had　changed　his　position；　or　the　position　of　the　horses。　Presently　Venters　remembered　positively　that　Jerry　had　been　leading　Night　on　the　right…hand　side　of　the　trail。　The　racer　was　now　on　the　side　to　the　left。　Noit　was　Black　Star。　But；　Venters　argued　in　amaze；　Jerry　had　been　mounted　on　Black　Star。　Another　clearer；　keener　gaze　assured　Venters　that　Black　Star　was　really　riderless。　Night　now　carried　Jerry　Card。

〃He's　changed　from　one　to　the　other！〃　ejaculated　Venters；　realizing　the　astounding　feat　with　unstinted　admiration。　〃Changed　at　full　speed！　Jerry　Card；　that's　what　you've　done　unless　I'm　drunk　on　the　smell　of　sage。　But　I've　got　to　see　the　trick　before　I　believe　it。〃

Thenceforth；　while　Wrangle　sped　on；　Venters　glued　his　eyes　to　the　little　rider。　Jerry　Card　rode　as　only　he　could　ride。　Of　all　the　daring　horsemen　of　the　uplands；　Jerry　was　the　one　rider　fitted　to　bring　out　the　greatness　of　the　blacks　in　that　long　race。　He　had　them　on　a　dead　run；　but　not　yet　at　the　last　strained　and　killing　pace。　From　time　to　time　he　glanced　backward；　as　a　wise　general　in　retreat　calculating　his　chances　and　the　power　and　speed　of　pursuers；　and　the　moment　for