So with horses a-lather they swept along. Their blood-stained spurs told their tale of invincible determination. These two men no longer sat in their saddles, they were leaning far out of them over their racing horses' necks, urging them and easing them by every trick in a horseman's understanding. They were making a trail which soon they knew would be a path of fire. They knew that with every stride of the stalwart creatures under them they were possibly cutting off the last hope of a retreat to safety. They knew, none better, that once amidst that furnace which lay directly ahead it was something worse than an even chance of life.
Buck wiped the dripping sweat out of his eyes that he might get a clearer view. The blaze of lightning was of no use to him. It only helped to make obscure that which the earthly fires were struggling to reveal. The Padre's horse was abreast of his saddle. The sturdy brute was leaving Cæsar to make the pace while she doggedly pursued.
"We'll make it yet!" shouted Buck, over his shoulder, amidst the roar of thunder.
The Padre made no attempt at response. He deemed it useless.
Buck slashed Cæsar's flanks with ruthless force.
The blazing farm was just ahead, as was also the roaring fire of the forest. It was the latter on which both men were concentrating their attention. For the moment its path lay eastward, away to the right of the trail. But this they knew was merely the howling force of the wind. With a shift of direction by half a point and the gale would drive it straight down the trail they were on.
The trail bent away to the left. And as they swung past the turn Buck again shouted.
"Now for it!"
He dashed his spurs again at the flanks of his horse, and the great beast stretched out for a final burst across the bridge over the narrow creek.