The traveler turned and saw, beyond the road, a beautiful mare, not
very tall, but a mare whose every inch of her fifteen three proclaimed
strength and speed. At that moment she raised her head and looked
across to him, and the heart of the rider jumped into his throat. The
very sight of her was an omen of victory, and he made a long stride in
her direction, but two men came before him. The old fellow jumped from
the chair and tapped his arm.

"You ain't going to take the bay without getting leave from Doone?"

"Gents, I got to," said the stranger. "Listen! My name's Gregg, Bill
Gregg. Up in my country they know I'm straight; down here you ain't
heard of me. I ain't going to keep that hoss, and I'll pay a hundred
dollars for the use of her for one day. I'll bring or send her back
safe and sound, tomorrow. Here's the money. One of you gents, that's a
friend of Doone, take it for him."

Not a hand was stretched out; every head shook in negation.

"I'm too fond of the little life that's left to me," said the old
fellow. "I won't rent out that hoss for him. Why, he loves that mare
like she was his sister. He'd fight like a flash rather than see
another man ride her."

But Bill Gregg had his eyes on the bay, and the sight of her was
stealing his reason. He knew, as well as he knew that he was a man,
that, once in the saddle on her, he would be sure to win. Nothing
could stop him. And straight through the restraining circle he broke
with a groan of anxiety.