Right into his face, but a greater distance away, rode the posse from Rickett, the fifteen tried men and true; and having caught the scheme of the trap they were killing their horses with a last effort.
It failed through no fault of theirs.

Just as the jaws of the trap were about to close the black stallion whisked out from danger, lunged over a swell of ground, and was out of view.

When they reached that point, yelling, Barry raced his black out of range of all except the wildest chance shot.

The eight from St.Vincent drove their weapons sullenly into the holsters; for the last five minutes they had been silently dividing ten thousand dollars by eight, and the awakening left a taste of ashes.
They could only follow him now at a moderate pace in the hope of wearing him down, and since a slight pause made little difference in the result--it would even be an advantage to breathe their horses after that burst,--they drew rein and cursed in chorus..