They were a hardy crew, these cowpunchers of the Jordan ranch, but to the sternest of them this was ugly work.

To draw a bead on a horse was like gathering the life of a man into the sight of the rifle, yet they knew that a band of wildrunning mustangs is a perpetual menace.
Already the black leader had recruited his herd with more than one stray from the Jordan outfit; and it was for the black, first of all, that they looked.

There was no sign of him, and in his place ranged a picture horse--a beautiful red--chestnut with a gallop that made one's head swim.

Lew Hervey, who had kept his men in cunning ambush near the lake, had chosen the new leader for a target but shot the colt instead.

And it was Lew Hervey, again, who swung over the crest of the hill and got the next chance at Alcatraz.
The foreman of the Jordan ranch pitched his rifle to his shoulder just as the leader, sweeping back to round up the rearmost of his company, presented a broadside target.