But one wheeled suddenly and came galloping toward them, stopped when he was quite close, ducked and went thundering past to the head of the field.

Lorraine gave a sharp little scream and set down the stretcher with a lurch, staring after the horse wide-eyed, her face white.
"They do it for play," Swan said reassuringly.

"They don't hurt you.

The fence is between, and they don't hurt you anyway." "That horse with the white face--I saw it--and when the man struck it with his quirt it went past me, running like that and dragging--_oh-h_!" She leaned against the bluff side, her face covered with her two palms.
Swan glanced down at Brit, saw that his eyes were closed, ducked his head from under the looped rope and went to Lorraine.
"The man that struck that horse--do you know that man ?" he asked, all the good nature gone from his voice.
"No--I don't know--I saw him twice, by the lightning flashes.

He shot--and then I saw him----" She stopped abruptly, stood for a minute longer with her eyes covered, then dropped her hands limply to her sides.