“No.  I’m done for.”

For answer Dan caught the bridle of Lee’s horse close to the bit.  They were almost to the bars.  A dark shadow slid up and over them.  It was Black Bart, with his head turned to look back even as he jumped, as if he were setting an example which he bid them follow.  Appallingly high the bars rose directly in front of them.

“Now!” called Dan to the tall bay, and jerked up on the bit.

Satan rose like a swallow to the leap.  The bay followed in gallant imitation.  For an instant they hung poised in air.  Then Satan pitched to the ground, landing safely and lightly on four cat-like feet.  A click and a rattle behind them—­the bay was also over, but his hind hoofs had knocked down the top bar.  He staggered, reeled far to one side, but recovering, swept on after Satan and Dan.  A yell of disappointment rang far behind.

Glancing back Haines saw the foremost of the pursuers try to imitate the feat of the fugitives, but even with the top bar down he failed.  Man and horse pitched to the ground.

For almost a mile the lane held straight on, and beyond stretched the open country.  They were in that free sweep of hills before the pursuers remounted beyond the bars.  In daytime a mile would have been a small handicap, but with the night and the hills to cover their flight, and with such mounts as Satan and the tall bay, they were safe.  In half an hour all sound of them died out, and Haines, following Dan’s example, slowed his horse to an easy gallop.

The long rider was puzzled by his companion’s horsemanship, for Dan rode leaning far to the right of his saddle, with his head bowed.  Several times Haines was on the verge of speaking, but he refrained.  He commenced to sing in the exultation of freedom.  An hour before he had been in the “rat-trap” with a circle of lynchers around him, and only two terror-stricken guards to save him from the most horrible of deaths.  Then came Fate and tore him away and gave him to the liberty of the boundless hills.  Fate in the person of this slender, sombre man.  He stared at Dan with awe.

At the top of a hill his companion drew rein, reeling in the saddle with the suddenness of the halt.  However, in such a horseman, this could not be.  It must be merely a freak feature of his riding.

“Move,” said Dan, his breath coming in pants.  “Line out and get to her.”

“To who?” said Haines, utterly bewildered.

“Delilah!”

“What?”

“Damn you, she’s waitin’ for you.”

“In the name of God, Barry, why do you talk like this after you’ve saved me from hell?”

He stretched out his hand eagerly, but Dan reined Satan back.

“Keep your hand.  I hate you worse’n hell.  There ain’t room enough in the world for us both.  If you want to thank me do it by keepin’ out of my path.  Because the next time we meet you’re goin’ to die, Haines.  It’s writ in a book.  Now feed your hoss the spur and run for Kate Cumberland.  But remember—­I’m goin’ to get you again if I can.”