long battle against a man, drank in the lessons of the wild country with
astonishing rapidity. Had it not been for intervention from the Great
Enemy, he might have continued for an indefinite period in the pleasant
foothills.

But Man found him. It was after some weeks, while he was intently
watching a chipmunk colony one day. Each little animal chattered at the
door of his home and so intent was Alcatraz's attention that he had no
warning of the approach of a rider up the wind until the gravel close
behind spurted under the rushing hoofs of another horse and the deadly
shadow of the rope swept over him. Terror froze him for what seemed a
long moment under the swing of the rope, in reality his side-leap was
swift as the bound of the wild cat and the curse of the unlucky
cowpuncher roared in his ear.

Alcatraz shot away like a thrown stone. The pursuit lasted only five
minutes, but to the stallion it seemed five ages, with the shouting of
the man behind him, for while he fled every scar pricked him and once
again his bones ached from every blow which the Mexican had struck. At
the end of the five minutes Alcatraz was hopelessly beyond reach and the
cowpuncher merely galloped to the highest hilltop to watch the runner.
As far as he could follow the course, that blinding speed was not
abated, and the cowpuncher watched with a lump growing in his throat. He
had fallen into a dream of being mounted on a stallion which no horse in
the mountains could overtake and which no horse in the mountains could
escape. To be safe in flight, to be inescapable in pursuit--that was, in
a small way, to be like a god.

But when Alcatraz disappeared in the horizon haze, the cowpuncher
lowered his head with a sigh. He realized that such a creature was not