SON OF THE WIND
him there. Even with the barrier raised he did not mean to let his captive out of the corner, except by the way that he should determine. He made a feint to charge from the front, swerved before the horse could swerve and darted at him on the flank, setting him off toward the left plunging around the side of the corral. No need to drive him now. He was flying for his covert of trees, three legs playing the part of four, wallowing like a hulk in the trough of the sea, gathering himself when it seemed that he must be down; then, abreast the canvas, swerving with a snort of terror. Around he went, with head flung up at the barrier, through which or over which he could not see. No trees, no hiding-place left, only the high white blank circle around him, and rock underfoot. His pace grew slower. He ran in a smaller circle, and stopped.
"How about that? Eh?" Carron demanded, in an ecstasy of admiration for himself, triumphant before his doubters. "Here, Charley, drive those mares down here. We've got to get them out of the way. Open the gate, Jim—wait until they get close—now!"
The flap of canvas slipped back to let the chestnut and her companion through, and closed again. Esmeralda Charley stood looking at his employer silently. If there had ever been an expression on his
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