The shovels caught the
horse a terrible blow full on the nose and with a scream it reared high
in the air, its forehoofs waving almost above Roger's head.
"Down on him, Duke, down on him!" bellowed the rider, striving to swing
the brute forward, but as Roger leaped to drag him from the saddle he
swerved his mount and galloped out of reach. Curses streamed from his
lips as he checked the steed and swung him round, curses for the horse
and for the man on foot. His quirt rose and fell, lashing the horse
into a frenzy as he galloped in a circle round Roger.
"You're in my way, you hear?" he cried. "It's your turn to move."
Each turn brought his course nearer his intended victim; and each
moment wrought horse and rider up to a greater fury.
"Move, you sucker, move!"
Roger stood his ground, turning to follow the whirling horse, waiting
for the moment when the rider would swing the beast straight at him.
"Jump, sucker, jump! or I'll ride you into the ground."
Roger jumped as the horse came thundering at him, easily carrying
himself out of danger from the animal's hoofs as well as from the heavy
quirt which the rider swung at him.
"Pretty nimble, eh? You sucker, you're going under the hoofs if it
takes all day!"
Roger looked round. They were alone on the bare prairie, out of sight
and hearing of any possible assistance.
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