By that light, Mac Strann, following Haw-Haw's directing arm, saw a lithe figure vault over the fence on the farther side of the corral and dart forward among the milling cattle.
Now, when cattle begin to mill it takes a brave man on a brave, well-trained horse to trust his chances in the midst of that ocean of tossing horns.

But this man ventured it on foot.

Mac Strann could follow him easily, for the man's hat was off, and the firelight glittered on his black hair.

That glimmering head darted here and there among the circling cattle.

Now it was lost, swamped, to all appearances, under a score of trampling hooves.