Coaly-Bay, the Outlaw Horse 
had not long to battle with the thought; not even 
one short hour, for the men came back. 
Down the long trail to the west they had driven 
him; there was no chance for him to turn aside. 
He must go on, and the men behind felt safe in 
that. 
Farther away from his old home on the Bitter- 
root River he had gone each time he journeyed. 
And now he had passed the high divide and was 
keeping the narrow trail that leads to the valley of 
Bears and on to Salmon River, and still away to the 
open wild Columbian Plains, limping sadly as 
though he knew. His glossy hide flashed back the 
golden sunlight, still richer than it fell, and the men 
behind followed like hangmen in the death train 
of a nobleman condemned—down the narrow trail 
till it opened into a little beaver meadow, with 
rank rich grass, a lovely mountain stream and 
winding Bear paths up and down the waterside. 
“Guess this’ll do,” said the older man. ‘Well, 
here goes for a sure death or a clean miss,” said the 
other confidently, and, waiting till the limper was ~¢ 
out in the middle of the meadow, he gave a short, 
sharp whistle. Instantly Coaly-bay was alert. ant cal 
He swung and faced his tormentors, his noble head POR: <9 
erect, his nostrils flaring; a picture of horse beauty 
—yes, of horse perfection. 
13 
