"Look at him!" muttered Sliver Waldron."The damned wolf is a scout.See him nose around that hummock? Watch him smell behind that bush.The black devil!"Bart, in fact, wove a loose course before his master, running here and there to all points of vantage, as if he knew that danger lurked ahead, but where he came close, with only the narrow passage between the cliffs, he seemed to make up his animal brain that there could be no trouble in so constricted a place, and darted straight ahead.
"They're ours," whispered Waldron."Steady, boys.Gus, get your rope, get ready!"Gus tossed the noose a little wider, and gathered himself for the throw, but it seemed as if the wolf saw or heard the movement.He stopped suddenly and stood with his head high; behind him the rider checked the black horse;all three waited.
"He's tryin' to get the wind," chuckled Waldron, "but the wind is ag'in'
our faces!"
It was only a slight breeze, but it came directly against the lurking three; and moreover the scent of the sage was particularly keen at this time of the day, and quite sufficient to blur the scent of man even in the keen nostrils of Black Bart.Only for a second or so he stood there sniffing the wind, a huge animal, larger than any wolf the three had ever seen; his face wise in a certain bear-like fashion from the three gray marks in the center of his forehead.Now he trotted ahead, and the stallion broke into a gallop behind.
"My God," whispered Sliver to Gus, "don't spoil that hoss when you daub the rope on him! Look at that action; like runnin' water!"They came more rapidly.As if the rider knew that a point of danger was there to be passed, he spoke to his mount, and Satan lengthened into a racing gait that blew the brim of the rider's hat straight up.On they came.The wolf-dog darted past.Then as the horse swept by, Gus Reeve rose from behind his bush and the rope darted snakelike from his hand.The forefeet of Satan landed in the noose, and the next instant the back-flung weight of Gus tightened the rope, and Satan shot over upon his side, flinging the master clear of the saddle.
It sent him rolling over and over in the dust, and Sliver Waldron was on his feet with both guns in action, sending bullet after bullet towards the tumbling body.Gus Reeve was running towards the stallion, his rope in action to entangle one of the hindfeet and make sure of his prey; Ronicky Joe had leaped up with a yell and blazed away at Black Bart.
It was no easy mark to strike, for the moment the rope shot out from the hand of Gus, the wolf-dog whirled in his tracks and darted straight for the scene of action.It was that, perhaps, which troubled the aim of Ronicky more than anything else, for wild animals do not whirl in this fashion and run for an assailant.He had expected to find himself plugging away at a flying target in the distance; instead, the black monster was rushing straight for him, silently.Indeed, all that followed was in silence after that first wild Indian yell from Ronicky Joe.His gun barked, but Black Bart was running like a football player down a broken field, swerving here and there with uncanny speed.Again, again, Joe missed, and then flung up his arm toward the flying danger.But Black Bart shot from the ground to make his kill.He could bring down the strongest bull in the herd.What was the arm of a man to him? His snake-like head shot through that futile guard; his teeth cut off the screams of Ronicky Joe.Down they went.The gun flew from the hand of Ronicky; for an instant he struggled with hands and writhing legs, and then the murderous teeth of Bart sank deeper, found the life.The dead body was limp, but Bart, shaking his hold deeper to make sure, glared across to the fallen master.
The third man had died for Grey Molly.
All this had happened in a second, and the body of Barry was still rolling when a gun flashed in his hand, drawn while he tumbled.It spat fire, and Sliver Waldron staggered forward drunkenly, waved both his armed hands as if he were trying to talk by signal, and pitched on his face into the dust.
The fourth man had died for Grey Molly.
No gun was destined for Gus Reeve, however.Black Bart had left the lifeless body of his victim and was darting towards the third man; the master was on his knee, raising his gun for the last shot; but Gus Reeve was blind to all that had happened.He saw only the black stallion, the matchless prize of horseflesh.He tossed a loop in the taut rope to entangle a bind foot, but that slackening of the line gave Satan his instant's purchase, and a moment later he was on his feet, whirled, and two iron-hard hoofs crushed the whole framework of the man's chest like an egg-shell.The impact lifted him from his feet, but before that body struck the ground the life was fled from it.The fifth man had died for Grey Molly.
