The bronchos had a hundred yards of a start, but they had not run another hundred until the agonized group of watchers could see that the stallion was gaining rapidly upon them.
"He'll get 'em," cried Hell, "he'll get 'em, by gum!" "But can he turn them from the bank ?" groaned Mandy.
"If anything in horse-flesh or man-flesh can do it," said Hell, "it'll be done." But a tail-race is a long race and a hundred yards' start is a serious handicap in a quarter of a mile.

Down the sloping trail the bronchos were running savagely, their noses close to earth, their feet on the hard ground like the roar of a kettledrum, their harness and trappings fluttering over their backs, the wagon pitching like a ship in a gale, the girl clinging to its high seat as a sailor to a swaying mast.
Behind, and swiftly drawing level with the flying bronchos, sped the black horse, still with that smooth grace of a skimming swallow and with such ease of motion as made it seem as if he could readily have increased his speed had he so chosen.
"My God! why doesn't he send the brute along ?" cried Dr.Martin, his stark face and staring eyes proclaiming his agony.
"He is up! He is up!" cried Cameron.
The agonized watchers saw the rider lean far over the bronchos and seize one line, then gradually begin to turn the flying ponies away from the cut bank and steer them in a wide circle across the prairie.
"Thank God! Thank God! Oh, thank God!" cried the doctor brokenly, wiping the sweat from his face.
"Let us go to head them off," said Cameron, setting off at a run, leaving the doctor and his wife to follow.
As they watched with staring eyes the racing horses they saw Raven bring back the line to the girl clinging to the wagon seat, then the black stallion, shooting in front of the ponies, began to slow down upon them, hampering their running till they were brought to an easy canter, and, under the more active discipline of teeth and hoofs, were forced to a trot and finally brought to a standstill, and so held till Cameron and the doctor came up to them.
"Raven," gasped Cameron, fighting for his breath and coming forward with hand outstretched, "you have--done--a great thing--to-day--for me.

I shall not--forget it." "Tut tut, Cameron, simple thing.

I fancy you are still a few points ahead," said Raven, taking his hand in a strong grip.

"After all, it was Night Hawk did it." "You saved--my sister's life," continued Cameron, still struggling for breath.
"Perhaps, perhaps, but I don't forget," and here Raven leaned over his saddle and spoke in a lower voice, "I don't forget the day you saved mine, my boy." "Come," said Cameron, "let me present you to my sister." Instantly Raven swung himself from his horse.
"Stand, Night Hawk!" he commanded, and the horse stood like a soldier on guard.
"Moira," said Cameron, still panting hard, "this is--my friend--Mr.
Raven." Raven stood bowing before her with his hat in his hand, but the girl leaned far down from her seat with both hands outstretched.
"I thank you, Mr.Raven," she said in a quiet voice, but her brown eyes were shining like stars in her white face.