Silence and hard riding after that; finally Bart called a halt for a few seconds to listen or get his bearings. There was a scratching of matches in the outfit as he pressed on again--the interminable little boxes and sheaves of tobacco. ‘Don’t hear ’em behind. The town of Alphonso is about five miles ahead, I figure. Another squad of rurales stationed there--’ ‘Telegraph in between?’ Elbert asked. ‘I’m not sure; not along this road, anyway. May be a roundabout wire. I’m taking the chance to reach the bridge of Rio Moreno. Two miles yet.’ They galloped on. The moon was tilting over toward the west. It must have been after three. He saw the lather on Mamie’s neck, yet he was still holding her in. A wooden bridge loomed ahead. Bart pulled up, and turned off the main road to a parallel sandy track at the right, leading down to the water. He didn’t mean to cross the bridge, Elbert perceived. The arroyo was broad and filled with stones, but the horses smelled water ahead. Mamie was whipping her head up and down, trying to take the bit. Now Elbert saw the mare’s ears cock suddenly, and knew she had caught something in the wind. His hand shot down to shut off her breath, but the nicker broke out in spite of him. An answer in kind from under the bridge. Then a volley from the same source, Elbert’s second experience under rifle fire that night--venomous roaring of slugs in the air. He never could have dreamed how utterly malignant the sounds. That instant at his right hand (Bart was still at his left) it was as if the picture unfolded for his eyes alone--an upturned face, then a crumpled, falling body, horse leaping aside--empty saddle--one of the four released from the prison at Arecibo. In the midst of the shots, a yell from Bart: ‘We split right here, men!’ Elbert heard certain names shouted--those who were to turn back, those to ride north. Then Bart’s face jerked around to him. ‘This way for us, Mister, we ride together.’ Their horses were at full run, along the river-bed, where the clear sand showed at the edge of the stream--shots still peppering after. ‘Your mare!’ Bart laughed. ‘Why, they’d have gotten all of us, if she hadn’t given warning! We’d have gone right into their gun-barrels under the bridge!’ ‘She’s one more listening mare,’ Elbert called back. XXII FRAMED IN A DOBE GATEWAY NORTH, they were riding straight north, though the going for a way was a bit heavy through the sand and stones. ‘Not so fast quite!’ Bart warned. ‘The other three can’t keep up--’ Elbert was bending forward because the rurales were following, their shots still in the air. His heart was filled with elation that Mamie had given the warning, and that their course had turned north. He had forgotten the three of Bart’s men still riding with them. More shots from behind, a queer gulping cough from Bart. ‘Are you hurt?’ Elbert called. ‘Yes, one of ’em got me. I’ve--been--hit--before--but not so close in--’