Twice had Shorty
seen his eyes quicken--when Shorty had mentioned his mother, and again
when he had spoken of Antrim's action in burning the Circle L
buildings.
Now, he leaned forward and peered intently at Shorty, and Shorty
marveled how his eyes bored into his own--with a cold intensity that
chilled the giant.
"Shorty," he said, in a low, strained voice; "Mother hasn't been hurt?"
"I forgot to tell you that," said Shorty; "she said, 'tell Kane I am all
right.'"
Shorty opened his mouth to speak further, but closed it again when he
saw Red King leap down the trails--a flaming red streak that flashed
over the new grass at a speed that took him a hundred yards before
Shorty could get his own horse turned.
The big red horse was lost in a dust cloud when Shorty urged his own
animal southward. And Shorty rode as he had never ridden before, in an
effort to lessen the space between himself and the flying Red King.
To no avail, however. Shorty's horse was fast, but Red King seemed to
have wings, so lightly did he skim over the green gulf of distance that
stretched between his master and the vengeance for which Lawler's soul
was now yearning. Shorty's horse was tired, and Red King was fresh; and
the distance between them grew greater--always greater--slowly,
surely--until the red horse was lost in the tiny dust cloud that moved
with unbelievable velocity far down the trail toward the Rabbit Ear.
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