the sound sent the roan back to all fours and racing down the road. He stopped with braced feet, and Morgan lurched forwards on the neck, yet he struck to his seat gamely. Whistling Dan was not a hundred yards away.
Morgan yelled and swung the quirt. The response of the roan was another race down the road at terrific speed, despite the pull of Morgan on the reins. Just as the running horse reached Whistling Dan, he stopped as short as he had done before, but this time with an added buck and a sidewise lurch all combined, which gave the effect of snapping a whip—and poor Morgan was hurled from the saddle like a stone from a sling. The crowd waved their hats and yelled with delight.
"Look out!" yelled Jim Silent. "Grab the reins!"
But though Morgan made a valiant effort the roan easily swerved past him and went racing down the road.
"My God," groaned Silent, "he's gone!"
"Saddles!" called someone. "We'll catch him!"
"Catch hell!" answered Silent bitterly. "There ain't a hoss on earth that can catch him—an' now that he ain't got the weight of a rider, he'll run away from the wind!"
