“Oaths don't do no good,” cut in Barry without a trace of emotion. He added frankly: “It ain't altogether for your sake. Those gents down there have played tag once with me and now I'd like to play with them. Molly's fresh today.”
He was already looking over his shoulder while he spoke; as if his mind were even then at work upon the posse.
“S'long.”
“S'long, partner. Good luck.”
So they parted and Vic, jogging slowly up the steep path, saw Grey Molly wheeled and sent at a sweeping gallop over the meadow. His heart leaped jealously and the next moment went out in a flood of gratitude, admiration, as Barry swung off the shoulder of the mountain, waved his hat towards Kate, and dipped at once out of sight.
The shelving ground along which Barry rode sometimes was a broad surface like a spacious, graded road; again it shelved away and opened a view of all the valley. When he reached the first of these places the rider looked back and down and saw the posse skirting rapidly on his side of the river, behind him and close to the cliff. They rode at an easy lope, and he could see that their heads were bent to watch the ground. Even at this casual gait they would reach the point at which he and the gray must swing onto the floor of the valley before him unless he urged Molly to top speed. He must get there at a sufficient distance from
