he did not notice Hank and Old Baldy until they were about fifty yards away. Then he spotted them and immediately the colt was forgotten and the black fury charged straight down the canyon at this new foe. The battle would have been a short one but for the nervousness of Baldy who sensed even more fully than his master the deadly character of the oncoming horse.
Hank had just raised his Colt's to shoot when the sight of the charging fury overwhelmed Baldy and he wheeled like a flash and galloped towards Crooked Creek while the bullet which would certainly have struck the stallion went whizzing over his head.
Hank sawed away upon the bit and did his best to quiet Baldy, but his panic was complete, so the best Hank could do was to fire over his shoulder at his pursuer. This was at best very inaccurate shooting and he saw his revolver being rapidly emptied to no purpose.
If he could only stop Baldy long enough for a good shot he would at least wound the fury, but Baldy had no mind to come to grips with this black devil.
Closer and closer the fury came. Baldy could probably have run away from him had Hank plied the quirt, but he had no such intentions so he and his mount were working at cross purposes. When they reached Crooked Creek, Hank guided Baldy down stream where the bank was smooth and finally after
