“We’ll talk that over later,” Roy answered shortly. “The thing to do now is to get out of their way. Let’s make time.” Their shadows had lengthened into long, dark blots as the two boys threw their mounts into a gallop. They rode diagonally away from the pack, gradually edging toward the X Bar X. Night must not overtake them here on the range, while the frenzied beasts were still close upon them. Their best chance lay not in out-distancing them, but in throwing them off their track. “Stick to this trail,” Roy said. “We’re getting nearer home each minute. Golly, I think we’ve beaten them! Listen! Aren’t they farther away?” Shrewdly realizing that often one hears that which he hopes to hear, Teddy would not admit that the danger was past. The cries of the wolf pack could still be plainly heard, and there was no means of telling whether they were coming toward the boys or running at right angles to them. It was not necessary for the animals to see the riders to follow them. Both Roy and Teddy knew that a wolf can track a man by the scent, as a dog does, and unless something occurred to shift the attention of the pack they might chase the boys to the very yard of the ranch. “Provided we can last that long,” Teddy said grimly, finishing his thought aloud. “We may not have a chance to slow ’em up again. Snakes, they sound like a convention!” “I’ll tell a maverick they do! Well, we can keep going only so far, and then--” Roy dropped his hand to the butt of his gun, which he had replaced in its holster. “We’ll have it out with ’em, I guess. We can never hope to keep this pace up till we reach home.” The two horses were running freely now, but not with the easy lope natural to them. It was more of a forced canter, as though the steeds could feel their riders’ anxiety, the tense, dogged helplessness of the hunted. Teddy prayed that they at least might keep the beasts out of sight. To hear them is bad enough, but to see them coming on remorselessly was infinitely worse. Teddy and Roy were riding silently. Their attention was concentrated on keeping their broncos running smoothly and avoiding all ruts and holes which might interrupt the stride. In these moments their skill was invaluable--they sat on their horses as though they were part of them, directing them by slight changes in the position of the reins, by the pressure of their knees. Before them a small ravine opened. They nosed their horses down, carefully, and headed for the other side. Teddy turned his head as they struck the upgrade. “Roy! Roy! Flash is limping! I’ll never make it! Here they come!” The boy’s voice was hoarse, cracked. Roy swerved suddenly. He saw that his brother had spoken the truth. Flash was limping badly, and over the top of the gully poured a tossing flood of brown wolves.