178 THE STORY OF THE TRAPPER 



led Colter out three hundred yards. Then he set his 

 captive free, and the exultant shriek of the running 

 warriors told what manner of sport this was to be. It 

 was a race for life. 



The white man shot out with all the power of 

 muscles hard as iron-wood and tense as a bent bow. 

 Fear winged the man running for his life to outrace the 

 winged arrows coming from the shouting warriors three 

 hundred yards behind. Before him stretched a plain 

 six miles wide, the distance he had so thoughtlessly 

 paddled between the rampart walls of the canon but 

 a few hours ago. At the Jefferson was a thick forest 

 growth where a fugitive might escape. Somewhere 

 along the Jefferson was his own hidden cabin. 



Across this plain sped Colter, pursued by a band 

 of six hundred shrieking demons. Not one breath did 

 he waste looking back over his shoulder till he was 

 more than half-way across the plain, and could tell 

 from the fading uproar that he was outdistancing his 

 hunters. Perhaps it was the last look of despair; but 

 it spurred the jaded racer to redoubled efforts. All 

 the Indians had been left to the rear but one, who was 

 only a hundred yards behind. 



There was, then, a racing chance of escape ! Colter 

 let out in a burst of renewed speed that brought blood 

 gushing over his face, while the cactus spines cut his 

 naked feet like knives. The river was in sight. A 

 mile more, he would be in the wood ! But the Indian 

 behind was gaining at every step. Another backward 

 look ! The savage was not thirty yards away ! He had 

 poised his spear to launch it in Colter s back, when the 

 white man turned fagged and beaten, threw up his arms 

 and stopped ! 



