started,—a strange convulsive jerk that no man had ever seen in him before. It was an instinctive recoil at a great dread and horror that suddenly swept over him. There had been no time for thought. It was as if a voice had spoken, instantly and clear, and had told him the real character of that wild hunt in the darkness.
For he had heard, infinitely dim but sharp as a needle prick through almost a mile of silent forest, the explosion of Alice's pistol. Some great danger was upon her and her little flock; even now, perhaps, she was fighting for her life. It was a moment of crisis not alone for her but for him: the time in which his metal would be tried in the fire. He knew, surely as if a voice had told him, that there were no seconds to waste.
"No," he said clearly, "I believe you'd better stay here. I'll take your horse."
There was no time to catch and saddle Alice's animal, feeding at the edge of the meadow. There was no tone of request in the words. He had simply given an order: with his very life he would see that it was obeyed.
"You will, will you?" Fargo howled. "We'll see about that "
Hugh reached for the reins, and it seemed to him that Fargo's hand was fumbling at his hip. That in itself didn't matter. Hugh only knew that he wanted the horse and that nothing must stand in the way. Fargo was shouting, his dark
