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 and choked out his life. Little by little he moved his arms, working the muscles out of their stiffness, every movement bringing back a faint reminder of his old pain. It required a long time to get one hand out of the wet rope and into his pocket for his knife, another almost hopeless spell of fumbling to open it with his swollen, numb fingers. When he stretched free of thongs at last, day was well on its way. The rain continued from the low-blowing clouds which had followed the cattle from Texas, as if to give them obscurity for their invasion of the forbidden land.

Texas found his feet and legs too tender to bear him at once. It was as if they had been frozen. Only after long chafing he was able to crawl, and crawling, he went to look for his horse, his intention being to mount and carry the alarm straight to Malcolm Duncan's ranch, almost forty miles to the north.

There was no trace of the animal near at hand; he believed the invaders had driven it away. Near the site of last night's fire he found his grub and scattered utensils where the invaders had kicked them about in the struggle. The circulation was restored to his extremities by the time he had cooked and eaten breakfast; it was possible to walk with little pain.

Further search for the horse discovered no trace