Page:Frederick Faust--Free Range Lanning.djvu/42

38 Andy that they wore guns because, in a pinch, they were ready to kill men.

And Andy Lanning, with a sob in his throat and his eyes drawn to glinting points, sent his horse rushing down the valley.

The fear of wild beasts is terrible enough, and there are few horrors as great as the terror which the criminal feels when he hears the bloodhounds crying down his trail; but of all fears there is none like the fear of man for man. Because it is intelligence following intelligence. If the pursued conceives the most adroit plan with his hard-working imagination he can never be sure that one of his enemies may not reach a similar conclusion.

To Andy Lanning, as fear whipped him north out of Martindale, there seemed no pleasure or safety in the world except in the speed of his horse and the whir of the air against his face. When that speed faltered he went to the quirt. He spurred mercilessly. Yet he had ridden his horse out to a stagger before he reached old Sullivan's place. Only when the forefeet of the mustang began to pound did he realize his folly in exhausting his horse when the race was hardly begun. He went into the ranch house to get a new mount.

He had seen old Sullivan many times before, but he had never seen him with such eyes. The pointed face of the old man held a wealth of cunning and knowledge. When he opened the door he stood for a long moment simply looking at Andy and saying nothing, and. for the space of one or two sickening heartbeats it seemed to Andy that the news must have already reached the ranch house. Knowing that this was impossible, he steadied himself with a great effort. It was simply the habitual silence of Sullivan, and not a suspicion. After a