THE PROMISED LAND
There was no thought of submission in Alcatraz at this moment, though
never for an instant did he under-rate the power of man. To Alcatraz the
Mexican was the type, and Cordova had seemed to unite in himself many
powers--strength like a herd of bulls, endurance greater than the
contemptible patience of the burro, speed like the lightning which winks
in the sky one instant and shatters the cottonwood tree the next. Such
as he were men, creatures who conquer for the sake of conquest and who
torment for the love of pain. His fear equalled his hatred, and his
hatred made him shake with fever.
The horseman had vanished but it was not well to trust to mere distance.
Had he not heard, more than once, the gun speaking from the hand of
Cordova, and presently the wounded hawk fluttered out of the sky and
dropped at the feet of the man? So Alcatraz kept on running. Besides, he
rejoiced in the gallop. He was like a boy who leaves his strength
untested for several years and when the crisis comes finds himself a
man. So the red-chestnut marvelled at the new wells of strength which he
was draining as he ran. That power which the Mexican had kept at low
tide with his systematic brutality was now developed to the full, very
near; and to Alcatraz it seemed exhaustless. He did not stop to look
about until two miles of climbing up the steep sides of the Eagles had
winded him.
He had risen above the foothills and the more laborious slopes of the
Eagles lifted at angles sheer and more sheer towards the top. But
decidedly he must cross the mountains. On the other side perhaps, there
would be no men. There could be no better time. Already the hollow
gorges were beginning to brim with blue-grey shadows and he would be
taking the worst of the climb in the cool of the evening. So Alcatraz
gave himself to the climb.
It was bitter work. Had he dropped a few miles south across the
foothills he would have found the road to the Jordan ranch climbing up
the Eagles with leisurely swinging curves, but the slopes just above him
were heart-breaking, and Alcatraz began to realize in an hour that a
mountainside from a distance is a far gentler thing than the same slope
underfoot. It was the heart of twilight before he came to the middle of
his climb and stepped onto a nearly level shoulder some acres in
compass. Here he stood for a moment while the muscles, cramped from
climbing, loosened again, and he looked down at the work he had already
accomplished. It was a dizzy fall to the lowlands. The big foothills
were mere dimples on the earth and limitless plain moved east towards
darkness. The stallion breathed deep of the pure mountain air,
contented. All his old life lay low beneath him in a thicker air and in
a deeper night. He had climbed out of it to a lonely height, perhaps,
but a free one. The wind, coming off the mountain top, curled his tail
along his flank. He turned and put his head into it, already refreshed
for more climbing. There was a strange scent in that wind, a rank, keen
odor that would have stopped him instantly had he been wiser in the life
of the wilderness. As it was, he trotted on through a skirting of
shrubbery and on the verge of a clearing was stopped by a snarl that
rolled out of the ground at his feet. Then he saw a dead deer on the
ground and over it a great tawny creature. One paw lay on the flank of
its prey; the bloody muzzle was just above.
There is no greater coward than the puma. Ordinarily she would have
hesitated before attacking the grown horse, but the surprise made her
desperate. She sprang even as Alcatraz whirled for flight, and in
whirling he saw that there was no escape from the leap of this monster
with the yawning teeth. He kicked high and hard, eleven hundred pounds
of seasoned muscle concentrated in the drive. The blow would have
smashed in the side of a bull. One hoof glanced off, but the other
struck fair and full between the eyes of the mountain-lion. The great
cat spun backwards, screeching, but Alcatraz saw no more than the fall.
He fled up the mountain with fear of death lightening his strides,
regardless of footing, crashing through underbrush, and came to the end
of his hysterical flight at the crest of the slope.
There he paused, shaking and weak, but the mountain top was bare of
covert, and scanning it eagerly through the treacherous moonlight he saw
there was no immediate danger. Down the Western slopes he saw a
fairyland for horses. Far beyond rose a second range nearly as lofty as
the peak on which he stood, but in between tumbled rolling ground, a
dreamy panorama in the moonshine. One feature was clear, and that was a
broad looping of silver among the hills, a river with slender
tributaries dodging swiftly down to it from either side. Alcatraz looked
with a swelling heart, thinking of the white-hot deserts which he had
known all his life. The wind which lifted his mane and cooled his hot
body carried up, also, the delicious fragrance of the evergreens and it
seemed to Alcatraz that he had come in view of a promised land. Surely
he had dreamed of it on many a day in burning, dusty corrals or in
oven-like sheds.
The descent was far less precipitous than the climb and far shorter to
the plateau. Just where the true mountains broke out into a pleasant
medley of foothills, the stallion stopped to rest. He nibbled a few
mouthfuls of grass growing lush and rank on the edge of a watercourse,
waded to the knees in a still pool and blotted out the star-images with
the disturbance of his drinking, and then went back onto a hilltop to
sleep.
It was full day before he rose and started on again, and to keep his
strength for the next stage of the journey, he ate busily first on the
lee side of a hill where the grass was thickest and tenderest. Between
mouthfuls he raised his head to gaze down on his new-found land. It was
a day of clouds, thin sheetings and dense cumulus masses sweeping on the
west wind and breaking against the mountains. Alcatraz could not see the
crests over which he had climbed the night before, so thick were those
breaking ranks of clouds, but the plateau beneath him was dotted with
yellow sunshine and in the day it filled to the full the promise of the
moonlit night. He saw wide stretches of meadow; he saw hills sharpsided
and smoothly rolling--places to climb with labor and places to gallop at
ease. He saw streams that promised drink at will; he saw clumps and
groves of trees for shelter from sun or storm. All that a horse could
will was here, beyond imaginings. Alcatraz lifted his beautiful head and
neighed across the lowlands.
There was no answer. His kingdom silently awaited his coming so he
struck out at a sharp pace. The run of the day before, in place of
stiffening him, had put him in racing trim and he went like the wind. He
was in playful mood. He danced and shied as each cloud-shadow struck
him, a dim figure in the shade but shining red-chestnut in the sun
patches. On every hand he saw dozens of places where he would have
stopped willingly had not more distant beauties lured him on. There were
hills whose tops would serve him as watch towers in time of need. There
were meadows of soft soil where the grass grew long and rank and others
where it was a sweeter and finer growth; but both had their places in
his diet and must be remembered so Alcatraz tried to file them away in
his mind. But who could remember single jewels in a great treasure? He
was like a child chasing butterflies and continually lured from the
pursuit of one to that of another still brighter. So he came in his
kingly progress to the first blot on the landscape, the first bar, the
first hindrance.
Sinuous and swift curving as a snake it twisted over hilltops and dipped
across hollows, three streaks of silver light one above the other, and
endless. The ears of Alcatraz flattened. He knew barb-wire fences of old
and he knew they meant man and domination of man. The scars of whip and
spur stung him afresh. The old sullen hatred rose in him. Those three
elusive lines of light were stronger than he, he knew, just as the frail
body of a man contained a mysterious strength far greater than his. He
turned his head across the wind and galloped beside the new-strung
fence for ten breathless minutes. Then he paused, panting. Still running
endless before him and behind was the fence and now he saw a checking of
similar fences across the meadows to his right. More than that, he saw a
group of fat cattle browzing, and just beyond were horses in a pasture.
Alcatraz slipped backwards and sideways till he was out of sight and
then galloped over the hill until he came to a grove of trees at the
top. Here he paused to continue his examination from shelter. The fence
was the work of man, the cattle and horses were the possessions of man,
and far off to the left, out of a grove of trees, rose the smoke which
spoke of the presence of man himself. The chestnut shivered as though he
were shaking cold water off his hide, and then unreasoning fury gripped
him. For here was his paradise, his Promised Land, pre-empted by the
Great Enemy!
He stayed for a long moment gazing, and then turned reluctantly and fled
like one pursued back by the way he had come. He got beyond the fence in
the course of half an hour, but still he kept on. He began to feel that
as long as he galloped on land which was pleasant to him it would be
pleasant to man also. So he kept steadily on his way, leaping the
brooks. Into the river he cast himself and swam to the farther shore.
There was an instant change beyond that bank. The valley opened like a
fan. The handle of it was the green, well-watered plateau into which he
had first descended, but now it spread in raw colored desert, cut up by
ragged hills here and there, and extending on either side to mountains
purple-blue with distance.
With the water dripping from his belly, Alcatraz twinked a farewell
glance to the green country behind him and set his face towards the
desert. It was not so hard to leave the pleasant meadows. Now that he
knew they were man-owned there was a taint in their beauty, and here on
the sands of the desert with only dusty bunch-grass to eat and muddy
waterholes to drink from, he was at least free from the horror of the
enemy. He kept on fairly steadily, nibbling in the bunch-grass as he
went, now trotting a little, now cantering lightly across a stretch
barren of forage. So he came, just after noonday, down-wind from the
scent of horses.
His own kind, yet he was worried, for he connected horses inevitably
with the thought of man. Nevertheless, he decided to explore, and coming
warily over a rise of ground he saw, in the hollow beyond, a whole troop
of horses without a man in sight. He was too wise to jump to conclusions
but slipped back from his watch-post and ran in a long semi-circle about
the herd, but having made out that there was no cowpuncher nearby, he
came back to his original place of vantage and resumed his observations.
A beautiful black stallion wandered up-wind from the rest and another,
younger horse, was on the other side of the herd. Between was a raggedly
assembled group of mares old and young, with leggy yearlings,
deer-footed colts, and more than one time-worn stallion. It was a motley
assembly. The colors ranged from piebald to grey and there was a great
diversity in stature. Presently the black stallion neighed softly,
whereat the rest of the herd bunched closely together, the mares with
the foals on the side, and all heads turning towards the black who now
galloped to a hilltop, surveyed the horizon and presently dropped his
head to graze again.
This was a signal to the others. They spread out again carelessly, but
Alcatraz was beginning to put two and two together in his thoughts. The
two stallions were obviously guards, but what should they be guarding
against in the broad light of day except that terrible destroyer who
hunts as well at noon as at midnight--man! Inspiration came to Alcatraz.
The difference of color and stature, the unkempt manes and tails, the
wild eyes, were all telling a single story, now. These were not servants
to man, and since they were not his servants they must be enemies, for
that was the law of the world. The great enemy dominated, and where he
could not dominate he killed. And the herd feared the same power which
Alcatraz feared; instantly they became to him brothers and sisters, and
he stepped boldly into view.
The result was startling. From the hilltop the black stallion whinnied
shrill and short and in a twinkling the whole group was in motion
scurrying north. Alcatraz looked in wonder and saw the black fall in
behind the rest and range across the rear biting the flanks of older
horses who found it difficult to keep the hot pace. With this
accomplished and when the herd was stolidly compacted before his
driving, the black skirted around the whole group and with a magnificent
spurt of running placed himself in the lead. He kept his place easily,
a strong galloping grey mare at his hip, and from time to time tossed
his head to the side to take stock of his followers. And so they dipped
out of sight beyond the next swell of ground.
Alcatraz recovered from his amazement to start in pursuit. This was a
mystery worth solving. Moreover, the moment he made sure that these were
not man-owned creatures they had become inexplicably dear to him and as
they disappeared his heart grew heavy. His running gait carried him
quickly in view. They had slackened in their flight a little but as he
hove in sight again they took the alarm once more, the foals first
rushing to the front and then the whole herd with flying manes and tails
blown straight out.
It was a goodly sight to Alcatraz. Moreover, his heart leaped strangely,
as it always did when he saw horses in full gallop. Perhaps they were
striving to test his speed of foot before they admitted him to their
company. In that case the answer was soon given. He sent his call after
them, bidding them watch a real horse run, then overtook them in one
dizzy burst of sprinting. His rush carried him not only up to them but
among them. Two or three youngsters swerved aside with frightened
snorts, but as he came up behind a laboring mare she paused in her
flight to let drive with both heels. Alcatraz barely escaped the danger
with a sidestep light as a dancer's and shortened his gallop.
He could not punish the mare for her impudence; besides, he needed time
to rearrange his thoughts. Why should they flee from a companion who
intended no harm? It was a great puzzle. In the meantime, keeping easily
at the heels of the wild horses, he noted that they were holding their
pace better than any cowponies he had ever seen running. From the oldest
mare to the youngest foal they seemed to have one speed afoot.
A neigh from the black leader made the herd scatter on every side like
fire in stubble. Alcatraz halted to catch the meaning of this new
maneuver and saw the black approaching at a high-stepping trot as one
determined to explore a danger but ready to instantly flee if it seemed
a serious threat. His gaze was fixed not on Alcatraz but on the far
horizon where the hills became a blue mist rolling softly against the
sky. He seemed to make up his mind, presently, that nothing would follow
the chestnut out of the distance and he began to move about Alcatraz in
a rapid gallop, constantly narrowing his circle.
Alcatraz turned constantly to meet him, whinnying a friendly greeting,
but the black paid not the slightest heed to these overtures. At length
he came to a quivering stand twenty yards away, head up, ears back, a
very statue of an angry and proud horse. Obviously it was a challenge,
but Alcatraz was too happy in his new-found brothers to think of battle.
He ducked his head a little and pawed the ground lightly, a horse's
age-old manner of expressing amicable intentions. But there was nothing
amicable in the black leader. He reared a little and came down lightly
on his forefeet, his weight gathered on his haunches as though he were
preparing to charge, and at this unmistakable evidence of ill-will,
Alcatraz snorted and grew alert.
If it came to fighting he was more than at home. He was a master. More
than one corral gate he had cunningly worked ajar, and more than one
flimsy barn wall he had broken down with his leaning shoulder, and more
than one fence he had leaped to get at the horses beyond. With anger
rising in him he took stock of the opponent. The black lacked a good
inch of his own height but in substance more than made up for the
deficiency. He was a stalwart eight-year old, muscled like a Hercules,
with plenty of bone to stand his weight; and his eyes, glittering
through the tangle of forelock, gave him an air of savage cunning.
Decidedly here was a foeman worthy of his steel, thought Alcatraz. He
looked about him. There stood the mares and the horses ranged in a loose
semi-circle, waiting and watching; only the colts, ignorant of what was
to come, had begun to frolic together or bother their mothers with a
savage pretense of battle. Alcatraz saw one solid old bay topple her
offspring with a side-swing of her head. She wanted an unobstructed view
of the fight.
His interest in this by-play nearly proved his undoing for while his
head was turned he heard a rushing of hoofs and barely had time to throw
himself to one side as the black flashed by him. Alcatraz turned and
reared to beat the insolent stranger into the earth but he found that
the leader was truly different from the sluggish horses of men. A
hundred wild battles had taught the black every trick of tooth and heel;
and in the thick of the fight he carried his weight with the agility of
a cat: Alcatraz had not yet swung himself fairly back on his haunches
when the black was upon him, the dust flying up behind from the
quickness of his turn. Straight at the throat of the chestnut he dived
and his teeth closed on the throat of Alcatraz just where the neck
narrows beneath the jaw. His superior height enabled Alcatraz to rear
and fling himself clear, but his throat was bleeding when he landed on
all fours dancing with rage and the sting of his wounds. Yet he
refrained from rushing; he had been in too many a fight to charge
blindly.
The black, however, had tasted victory, and came again with a snort of
eagerness. It was the thing for which Alcatraz had been waiting and he
played a trick which he had learned long before from a cunning old
gelding who, on a day, had given him a bitter fight. He pitched back, as
though he were about to rear to meet the charge, but when his fore-feet
were barely clear of the ground he rocked down again, whirled, and
lashed out with his heels.
Had they landed fairly the battle would have ended in that instant, but
the black was cat-footed indeed, and he swerved in time to save his
head. Even so one flashing heel had caught his shoulder and ripped it
open like a knife. And they both sprang away, ready for the next clash.
The grey mare who had run so gallantly at the hip of the leader now
approached and stood close by with pricking ears. Alcatraz bared his
teeth as he glanced aside at her. No doubt if he were knocked sprawling
she would rush in to help her lord and master finish the enemy. That
gave Alcatraz a second problem--to fight the stallion without turning
his back on the treacherous mare.
Before he could plan his next move the black was at him again. This time
they reared together, met with a clash of teeth and rapid beat of hoofs,
and parted on equal terms. Alcatraz eyed his enemy with a fierce
respect. His head was dull and ringing with the blows; his shoulder had
been slightly cut by a glancing forehoof. Decidedly he could not meet
the brawn of this hardened old warrior on such terms. He had used up one
trick, he must find another, and still another; and when the black
rushed again, Alcatraz slipped away from the contact and raced off at
his matchless gallop. The other pursued a short distance and stopped,
sounding his defiance and his triumph. As well follow the wind as the
chestnut stranger. Besides, the blood was pouring from the gash in his
shoulder and that foreleg was growing weak; it was well that the battle
had ended at this point.
But it was not ended! Flight was not in the mind of Alcatraz as he swept
away. He ran in dodging circles about the enemy, swerving in and then
veering sharply out as the black reared to meet the expected charge.
Whatever else was accomplished, he had gained the initiative and that
plus his lightness of foot might bring matters to a decisive issue in
his favor. Twice he made his rush; twice the black turned and met him
with that shower of crushing blows with the fore hoofs. But the third
time a feint at one side and a charge at the other took the leader
unawares. Fair and true the shoulder of Alcatraz struck him on the side
and the impact flung the black heavily to the earth. The shock had
staggered even Alcatraz but he was at the other like a savage terrier.
Thrice he stamped across that struggling body until the black lay
motionless with his coat crimson from twenty slashes. Then Alcatraz drew
away and neighed his triumph, and in his exultation he noted that the
herd drew close together at his call.
Why, he could not imagine, and he had no time to ponder on it, for the
black was now struggling to his feet. But there was no fight left in
him. He stood dazed, with fallen head, and to the challenge of the
chestnut he replied by not so much as the pricking of his flagging ears.
The grey mare went to him, touched noses with her overlord, and then
backed away, shaking her head. Presently she trotted past Alcatraz,
flung up her heels within an inch of his head, and then galloped on
towards the herd looking back at the conqueror. Oh vanity of the weaker
sex; oh frailty! She had seen her master crushed and within the minute
she was flirting with the conqueror.
The herd started off as the grey joined them and Alcatraz followed; the
black leader remaining unmoving and the blood dripped steadily down his
legs.