gone on ahead of them to prepare the main body of the herd for whatever might happen.

     The bone-chilling sounds of human whoops and shouts rent through the air.

 Lonan, trying to be patient, was quietly helping the frail Archer down the rock-ridden hill face. But he was burning with curiosity. Were the men chasing them? Where were Pantha and Lonan? The two leaders had gone to 'check the humans out' - a thing which Lonan himself would have been only too happy to do instead - and hadn't returned yet.

     Lonan glanced back at the way they had come, to see his mate Night Light, a silhouette, blacker than black against the skyline at the top of the hill. She had volunteered to keep an eye on any riders that might be following.
     There were the whoops again, stabbing into the ears of the fleeing horses. Lonan saw Night Light flinch, but she stayed put. The men were not in sight yet.

     Archer stumbled and Lonan, with a 'Whoa there!' quickly put his head under the old appaloosa's neck to prevent him from dropping to the ground.
     Condor and Lilacflower, up ahead, had reached the bottom of the slope and halted, waiting for Lonan and Archer.
     Lonan nodded to them both to continue. 'Keep going. We'll be right behind, if not always in sight.'

     'Take care,' snorted Condor.

     'My father . . . ' said Lilacflower, eyes staring, anguished, through her brown forelock.

     'Go, child,' smiled Archer.

     Condor nudged Lilacflower gently, urging her into a trot. He led her off and away over a little rise behind which lay a dusty track that meandered into the Holz.
     Lonan turned his attention back to his charge. He had had a quick look around and an easier way for Archer to get down the slope had formed in his mind.
     'Right, Archer, the humans are coming quickly,' said Lonan. 'Can you follow me?' He leaped downwards and to the right, and landed softly in a turfy bit of the hill's face, which was thick with masses of old grass, spiky and dry.
     'I'll try, son,' Archer said, lifting a foot and gently easing it onto the dirt slide leading down to the place Lonan stood. 'But, I won't be able to jump it.' He put his other front foot on; then slowly went the back feet.

     'That's it,' said Lonan encouragingly. 'Now, as gently as you can, let yourself slip towards me.'

     There came more shouts and hoofbeats.

 Lonan's heart skipped a beat, his blood ran chill and he shot a stare up at Night Light. She stared back at him, horror etched across her face. Lonan tossed his head at her, ordering her to come down. She did so.
     As she made her hasty descent, she slowed upon reaching her mate.

     But Lonan flashed out with his teeth at her sun-marked shoulder.

     'No!' he said. 'Go to the herd. We'll follow.'

     'And quickly, Archer!' he whinnied as Night Light, knowing better than to argue, bucked herself down the slope in powerful leaps after Lilacflower and Condor.
     Archer was nodding and letting himself slide down, again, for Lonan had moved away, further down the hill. His tired head swaying in front of him like a tree on a windy day.
     'That's it, yes, you're going nicely. Now ease down,' nodded Lonan, skipping lightly from one foot to the other in slight impatience. He could not hear hoofbeats, nor human voices. But the heavy breath of tired, invisible horses was hissing from somewhere over the rise above.    
     Archer went on. It hurt him, every bit of it hurt him; his legs weren't strong and wobbled all the way, and to make matters worse, chunks of stone and rock were loosened by his hooves and came rolling behind him, bouncing off his hindquarters like hail. But it didn't stop him from obeying Lonan. He knew just as much as the younger stallion, whom he trusted, that it was the quickest and safest way down that hill. Safe from the men that is.
     'You're nearly there, Archer, nearly there,' Lonan encouraged the old appaloosa. As soon as Archer had reached the grassier patch, Lonan quickly went to stand on a lower one. 'Just a few more metres to go, just a few. Come around those shrubs, mind, they're not easy to push through. Then you'll be there.'
     And it was true, he was nearly down. This was the hardest bit of the hill, but then they would be grass, softer grass. He would soon be at the bottom (where Lonan was now standing) - soon safe in the company of the herd. Archer whinnied softly back at the younger stallion, a small, happy smile on his tired face as he slithered his way closer and closer towards the hill's foot.
     It would have gone well, so immensely well, if the covered groove - by the jutting rock, hidden from Archer by the shrubs -  wasn't there.

     But it was.

     And that was where Archer caught his leg . . .

Chapter III: So Close

The piercing scream of an animal in despair ripped to shreds the semi-silence of the Wild Western country air.

     Josh Richardson headed the dozen riders that had split from the main party led by Milo Mistrack. He had led them up the valley side into the Fleewood, and, in the forest, they had come across a stallion. It had been a pinto; and as a wily old rider in the group suggested, the Indians tended to favour pintos over most other colours of horse. Perhaps this horse belonged to the Redskins they were after. And so, perhaps those Redskins were close by.

     They hounded the buckskin-and-white stallion, with the possibility in mind that he would lead them to his owners. But he disappeared after a short while, and Josh's gang found themselves on the poor pastureland which lay on the other side of the Fleewood.
     They had split up. Josh rode his dark palomino stallion west to the very edge of the pasture where it became a dangerous slope, which touched the lower ground leading to the maple woods known as Gold Holz.
     The Holz could be seen in the distance; Josh was sure he spotted a dark animal running into the trees. On that terrible edge, he stared around for Indians, and once his mount had rested a bit, turned back to rejoin his party.
     But then the horse scream made him stop.
     Josh Richardson steered his pally around and called to the other men who, having no luck spotting Indians had themselves regathered and seemed to be discussing taking a different route.

     'Over here, boys!' Josh cried, pulling his steed this way and that as it fidgeted in a nervous way. 'I can hear 'orses.'

     A younger man, with reddish-brown hair and a slim figure, cantered his horse up to Josh, his rifle hanging loosely in one hand.
     'What?' yelled the young man. 'Yeh mean down near Gold Holz? Did you see any of them?'

     'Yes'm, Joe, down by the forest. Didn't see them, no, but I knows they be there! Cumm'on, boys, now, boys!'
     He kicked his horse roughly in the sides with cry of "Hup!", at which the palomino made a slight rear before thundering down towards the edge, the other men in hot pursuit.

Clovebreeze flicked her head round at the scream. She knew it was Archer, and couldn't go to him, no matter how much it made her anguish not to do so.
     She had strict orders from the lead mare, Treacle, to stay with the herd and look after the younger fillies. But his sharp cries nearly killed her.
    Treacle and Elf did their best to console the old mare, but to not much avail.

    'Just keep calm, Breeze, dear,' said Elf, daughter of Pantha and Treacle, as she herself, white with stunning copper-streaked red mane and patched legs of the same colours, stood calmly, although with her young daughter Bella shivering with fright at her flank.
     Both Treacle and Elf knew how Clovebreeze was feeling, for they too felt for their mates, both out and close to danger - if not in it; Pantha was missing, and now Alcatraz, Elf's stallion (and Lonan's son), had gone to look out for him as well as for Lucius.

    The three mares and several young fillies were grouped deep inside the forest, where the ground was a large gully, Elf and another young nut-brown female huddled against the course fur of Clovebreeze who listened intently. Other horses of the Panthera Herd were standing not far off, half-hidden in the trees.

     They all stiffened as a pounding sound began crescendoeing through the trees. But Clovebreeze neighed gleefully, as her daughter Lilacflower, closely followed by Condor and finally Night Light, came cantering into the gully.
     'Archer and . . .  ' began Clovebreeze, eyes wide and desperate. The screaming which stabbed from the direction of Fleewood Pasture had not ceased.
     'Coming down the Edge, still,' nickered Night Light, ears lolling