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Chapter 97

           Thereisbutoneofthepursuingpartywhocontinuestokeephiminview—atallman,mounteduponwhatmightbetakenforthesorriestofsteeds—anoldmustangmare.

           Herspeedtellsadifferenttale;producedthoughitbebythestrangestofspurs—thekeenbladeofabowie-knife.

           ItisZebStumpwhomakesuseofthisquaint,butcruel,meansofpersuasion.

           Stilltheoldmarecannotkeeppacewiththemagnificentstallionofthemustanger.NordoesZebexpectit.Hebutaimsatholdingthelatterinsight;andinthisheissofarsuccessful.

           Thereisyetanotherwhobeholdstheblood-baymakinghisvigorousbounds.Hebeholdshimwith"beardupontheshoulder."Itishewhoispursued.

           Justashehasbeguntofeelhopefulofescape,Calhoun,lookingback,catchessightoftheredstallion;nolongerwiththatstrangeshapeuponhisback,butoneaswellrecognised,andtohimevenmoreterrible.HeperceivesittobeMaurice,themustanger—themanhewouldhavedevoted—wassoneardevoting—tothemostdisgracefulofdeaths!

           Heseesthismancomingafter—hisownconsciencetellshim—asanavenger!

           IsitthehandofGodthatdirectsthisenemyonhistrack?Hetremblesasheaskshimselfthequestion.Fromanyotherpursuertheremighthavebeenachanceofescaping.ThereisnonefromMauriceGerald!

           Acoldshiverrunsthroughtheframeofthefugitive.

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