That was another reason why Ted was now so keen on the
chase. He turned Sultan's head in the direction of Magpie's call, and
the little stallion galloped away like the wind.
Ted had no bridle, but that was not necessary, for he and Sultan
understood one another so well that a slight pressure of the rider's
knees was all the guidance the horse needed.
Again came Magpie's shrill call, and this time Sultan nickered and
fairly flew. Somewhere ahead, in the darkness, Ted heard for the first
time the hoofbeats of the pony, and knew that Woofer had reached it and
was away.
"Follow her; catch her, Sultan," called Ted, and Sultan seemed to
understand, and let himself out to his full stride, although he missed
the firm, guiding hand on the bridle.
Magpie was put to her utmost, but she was heavily handicapped by
carrying double for a race against Sultan, who was not even burdened by
the heavy saddle he usually bore.
So it was that Sultan steadily gained on the little mare, who was not
disposed to do her utmost even under whip and spur, which Woofer did not
spare.
They were now racing in the dark along the ridge of a deep coulee, the
wall on the right of which went down steeply to a depth of thirty or
more feet.
Ted could not see the way, but he knew that they were riding a perilous
path, and that a slip of the foot or a rolling rock might cost them
their lives.
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