His pursuers, coming up, flung out their lazos.

Two of these, settling over his head, noosed him around the neck.

The huge brute, as if aware of the necessity of a desperate effort to free himself, dropped his nose to the ground, and stretched himself out in full gallop.
The lariats, one by one tightening over his bony chest, snapped like threads, almost jerking the mustangs from their feet.

The long fragments sailed out like streamers as he careered across the prairie, far ahead of his yelling pursuers.
He now made directly for the corral.

Several of the soldiers ran towards the stockade, in order to seize the bridle when he should come up; but Hercules, spying his old comrade--the horse of the "Doctor"-- within the inclosure, first neighed loudly, and then, throwing all his nerve into the effort, sprang high over the picket fence.
A cheer rose from the men, who had watched with interest his efforts to escape, and who now welcomed him as if he had been one of themselves.
"Two months' pay for your horse, Major!" cried Clayley.
"Och, the bewtiful baste! He's worth the full of his skin in goold! By my sowl! the capten ought to have 'im," ejaculated Chane; and various other encomiums were uttered in honour of Hercules.
Meanwhile, his pursuers, not daring to approach the stockade, drew off towards their comrades with gestures of disappointment and chagrin..