For the fence, even after the removal of the top bar, was nearly six feet in height.

But when Barry took his horse to the far side of the corral and then swung him about facing the derailed section, it was plain that he meant to attempt to jump at that place.

Even then, as O'Brien explained later, and many a time, the thing was so impossible that he could not believe his eyes.

There was a dreamlike element to the whole event.

And like a phantom in a vision he saw the black horse start into a sharp gallop; saw the great dog sail across the fence first; saw the horse and rider shoot into the air against the stars; heard the click of hoofs against the top rail; heard the thud of hoofs on the near side of the fence, and then the horseman flashed about the corner of the barn and in an instant his hoofs were beating a far distant tattoo.
As for the watchers, they returned in a dead silence to the barroom and they had hardly entered when Mac Strann stalked through the doors behind them; he went straight to O'Brien.
"Somewhere about," he said in his thick, deep voice, "they's a man named Dan Barry.