that the stallion knew man and hated as much as he dreaded his former
masters. These excursions were temptings of Providence, games
of hazard. Perris, gambler by instinct himself, understood and
appreciated, at the same time that his anger at being so constantly
outwitted, outdistanced, grew hot. Then there remained no kindness,
only desire to make the kill. His dreams had come to turn on one
picture--Alcatraz cantering in range of the waiting rifle!

That dream haunted even his walking moments as he lay here on the
hilltop, wondering if he had not been mistaken in selecting this place
of all the range. Yet he had chosen it with care as one of the points
of passage for Alcatraz during the stallion's wanderings to the four
quarters of his domains and though since he took up his station
here an imp of the perverse kept the stallion far away, the watcher
remained on guard, baked and scorched by the midday sun, constantly
surveying the lower hills nearby or sweeping more distant reaches with
his glass. This day he felt the long vigil to be definitely a failure,
for the sun was behind the western summits and the time of deepening
shadows most unfavorable to marksmanship had come. He swung the glass
for the last time to the south; it caught the glint of some moving
creature.

He focused his attention, but the object disappeared. A full five
minutes passed before it came out of the intervening valley but then,
bursting over the hilltop, it swept enormous into the power of the
glass--Alcatraz, and at full gallop!

There was no shadow of a doubt, for though it was the first time he
had been able to watch the stallion at close hand he recognized the
long and effortless swing of that gallop. Next he remembered those