Once--twice Ladd
raised the long rifle, but each time he lowered it. Gale divined
that the ranger's restraint was not on account of the Mexican,
but for that valiant and faithful horse. Up and up he went, and
the yellow dust clouds rose, and an avalanche rolled rattling and
cracking down the slope. It was beyond belief that a horse,
burdened or unburdened, could find footing and hold it upon that
wall of narrow ledges and inverted, slanting gullies. But he
climbed on, sure-footed as a mountain goat, and, surmounting
the last rough steps, he stood a moment silhouetted against
the white sky. Then he disappeared. Ladd sat astride Blanco Sol
gazing upward. How the cowboy must have honored that raider's
brave steed!
Gale, who had been too dumb to shout the admiration he felt,
suddenly leaped up, and his voice came with a shriek:
"LOOK OUT, LADDY!"
A big horse, like a white streak, was bearing down to the right
of the ranger. Blanco Diablo! A matchless rider swung with the
horse's motion. Gale was stunned. Then he remembered the first
raider, the one Lash had shot at and driven away from the outlet.
This fellow had made for the mesquite and had put a saddle on Belding's
favorite. In the heat of the excitement, while Ladd had been intent upon
the climbing horse, this last raider had come down with the speed of
the wind straight for the western outlet. Perhaps, very probably,
he did not know Gale was there to block it; and certainly he hoped
to pass Ladd and Blanco Sol.
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