Higgins would grow curious at
lunch time if Roger failed to appear and possibly come out to search
for him, but previous to that there was no hope that any one would know
the grim game that was being played out there in the desolate waste.
Three hundred yards away lay an island of palmetto shrubs with a few
pines sprinkled among them. If he could reach that without being
ridden down he could equalize somewhat the advantage which a mounted
man holds over a man afoot in the open country, but he calculated the
danger of turning his back to the maddened horse and rider and gave it
up. A sense of outrage, deeper than his anger, began to grow in him as
he considered the spectacle of being forced to hop about like a
harlequin, at the mercy of a stranger, and on his own land. The
instinct of the landowner with his two feet planted upon his own soil
welled up in him, and he whisked up the long-handed digger and took a
stand to defend himself.
His attitude was that of a man defying the other to ride him down, and
the rider, accepting the challenge with a yell, drove at him like a
Fury. Roger saw the outstretched nostrils, the bared teeth and
pounding hoofs hurtling at him and realized the folly of his impulse.
As the steed came upon him he leaped suddenly to one side and struck
furiously at the figure in the saddle.
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