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general in retreat calculating his chances and the power and speed of pursuers； and the moment for the last desperate burst。 No doubt； Card； with his life at stake； gloried in that race； perhaps more wildly than Venters。 For he had been born to the sage and the saddle and the wild。 He was more than half horse。 Not until the last callthe sudden up…flashing instinct of self…preservationwould he lose his skill and judgment and nerve and the spirit of that race。 Venters seemed to read Jerry's mind。 That little crime…stained rider was actually thinking of his horses； husbanding their speed； handling them with knowledge of years； glorying in their beautiful； swift； racing stride； and wanting them to win the race when his own life hung suspended in quivering balance。 Again Jerry whirled in his saddle and the sun flashed red on his face。 Turning； he drew Black Star closer and closer toward Night； till they ran side by side； as one horse。 Then Card raised himself in the saddle； slipped out of the stirrups； and； somehow twisting himself； leaped upon Black Star。 He did not even lose the swing of the horse。 Like a leech he was there in the other saddle； and as the horses separated； his right foot； that had been apparently doubled under him； shot down to catch the stirrup。 The grace and dexterity and daring of that rider's act won something more than admiration from Venters。 For the distance of a mile Jerry rode Black Star and then changed back to Night。 But all Jerry's skill and the running of the blacks could avail little more against the sorrel。
Venters peered far ahead； studying the lay of the land。 Straightaway for five miles the trail stretched； and then it disappeared in hummocky ground。 To the right； some few rods； Venters saw a break in the sage； and this was the rim of Deception Pass。 Across the dark cleft gleamed the red of the opposite wall。 Venters imagined that the trail went down into the Pass somewhere north of those ridges。 And he realized that he must and would overtake Jerry Card in this straight course of five miles。
Cruelly he struck his spurs into Wrangle's flanks。 A light touch of spur was sufficient to make Wrangle plunge。 And now； with a ringing； wild snort； he seemed to double up in muscular convulsions and to shoot forward with an impetus that almost unseated Venters。 The sage blurred by； the trail flashed by； and the wind robbed him of breath and hearing。 Jerry Card turned once more。 And the way he shifted to Black Star showed he had to make his last desperate running。 Venters aimed to the side of the trail and sent a bullet puffing the dust beyond Jerry。 Venters hoped to frighten the rider and get him to take to the sage。 But Jerry returned the shot； and his ball struck dangerously close in the dust at Wrangle's flying feet。 Venters held his fire then； while the rider emptied his revolver。 For a mile； with Black Star leaving Night behind and doing his utmost； Wrangle did not gain； for another mile he gained little； if at all。 In the third he caught up with the now galloping Night and began to gain rapidly on the other black。
Only a hundred yards now stretched between Black Star and Wrangle。 The giant sorrel thundered onand onand on。 In every yard he gained a foot。 He was whistling through his nostrils； wringing wet； flying lather； and as hot as fire。 Savage as ever； strong as ever； fast as ever； but each tremendous stride jarred Venters out of the saddle！ Wrangle's power and spirit and momentum had begun to run him off his legs。 Wrangle's great race was nearly wonand run。 Venters seemed to see the expanse before him as a vast； sheeted； purple plain sliding under him。 Black Star moved in it as a blur。 The rider； Jerry Card； appeared a mere dot bobbing dimly。 Wrangle thundered ononon！ Venters felt the increase in quivering； straining shock after every leap。 Flecks of foam flew into Venters's eyes； burning him； making him see all the sage as red。 But in that red haze he saw； or seemed to see； Black Star suddenly riderless and with broken gait。 Wrangle thundered on to change his pace with a violent break。 Then Venters pulled him hard。 From run to gallop； gallop to canter； canter to trot； trot to walk； and walk to stop； the great sorrel ended his race。
Venters looked back。 Black Star stood riderless in the trail。 Jerry Card had taken to the sage。 Far up the white trail Night came trotting faithfully down。 Venters leaped off； still half blind； reeling dizzily。 In a moment he had recovered sufficiently to have a care for Wrangle。 Rapidly he took off the saddle and bridle。 The sorrel was reeking； heaving； whistling； shaking。 But he had still the strength to stand； and for him Venters had no fears。
As Venters ran back to Black Star he saw the horse stagger on shaking legs into the sage and go down in a heap。 Upon reaching him Venters removed the saddle and bridle。 Black Star had been killed on his legs； Venters thought。 He had no hope for the stricken horse。 Black Star lay flat； covered with bloody froth； mouth wide； tongue hanging； eyes glaring； and all his beautiful body in convulsions。
Unable to stay there to see Jane's favorite racer die； Venters hurried up the trail to meet the other black。 On the way he kept a sharp lookout for Jerry Card。 Venters imagined the rider would keep well out of range of the rifle； but； as he would be lost on the sage without a horse； not improbably he would linger in the vicinity on the chance of getting back one of the blacks。 Night soon came trotting up； hot and wet and run out。 Venters led him down near the others； and unsaddling him； let him loose to rest。 Night wearily lay down in the dust and rolled； proving himself not yet spent。
Then Venters sat down to rest and think。 Whatever the risk； he was compelled to stay where he was； or comparatively near； for the night。 The horses must rest and drink。 He must find water。 He was now seventy miles from Cottonwoods； and； he believed； close to the canyon where the cattle trail must surely turn off and go down into the Pass。 After a while he rose to survey the valley。
He was very near to the ragged edge of a deep canyon into which the trail turned。 The ground lay in uneven ridges divided by washes； and these sloped into the canyon。 Following the canyon line； he saw where its rim was broken by other intersecting canyons； and farther down red walls and yellow cliffs leading toward a deep blue cleft that he made sure was Deception Pass。 Walking out a few rods to a promontory； he found where the trail went down。 The descent was gradual； along a stone…walled trail； and Venters felt sure that this was the place where Oldring drove cattle into the Pass。 There was； however； no indication at all that he ever had driven cattle out at this point。 Oldring had many holes to his burrow。
In searching round in the little hollows Venters； much to his relief； found water。 He composed himself to rest and eat some bread and meat； while he waited for a sufficient time to elapse so that he could safely give the horses a drink。 He judged the hour to be somewhere around noon。 Wrangle lay down to rest and Night followed suit。 So long as they were down Venters intended to make no move。 The longer they rested the better； and the safer it would be to give them water。 By and by he forced himself to go over to where Black Star lay； expecting to find him dead。 Instead he found the racer partially if not wholly recovered。 There was recognition； even fire； in his big black eyes。 Venters was overjoyed。 He sat by the black for a long time。 Black Star presently labored to his feet with a heave and a groan； shook himself； and snorted for water。 Venters repaired to the little pool he had found； filled his sombrero； and gave the racer a drink。 Black Star gulped it at one draught； as if it were but a drop； and pushed his nose into the hat and snorted for more。 Venters now led Night down to drink； and after a further time Black Star also。 Then the blacks began to graze。
The sorrel had wandered off down the sage between the trail and the canyon。 Once or twice he disappeared in little swales。 Finally Venters concluded Wrangle had grazed far enough； and； taking his lasso； he went to fetch him back。 In crossing from one ridge to another he saw where the horse had made muddy a pool of water。 It occurred to Venters then that Wrangle had drunk his fill； and did not seem the worse for it； and might be anything but easy to catch。 And； true enough； he could not come within roping reach of the sorrel。 He tried for an hour； and gave up in disgust。 Wrangle did not seem so wild as simply perverse。 In a quandary Venters returned to the other horses； hoping much； yet doubting more； that when Wrangle had grazed to suit himself he might be caught。
As the afternoon wore away Venters's concern diminished； yet he kept close watch on the blacks and the trail and the sage。 There was no telling of what Jerry Card might be capable。 Venters sullenly acquiesced to the idea that the rider had been too quick and too shrewd for him。 Strangely and doggedly； however； Venters clung to his foreboding of Card's downfall。
The wind died away； the red sun topped the far distant western rise of slope； and the long； creeping purple shadows lengthened。 The rims of the canyons gleamed crimson and