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Suddenly he became aware of some strange exercise on the part of
the mysterious rider; and, as he swept by on the nearer side of the
circle, he saw that he was throwing a lasso! A horrible thought
that he was witnessing an insane rehearsal of the murder of his
father flashed across his mind.
A far-off whistle from the distant woods recalled him to his calmer
senses at the same moment that it seemed also to check the
evolutions of the furious rider. Guest felt confident that the
wretched man could not escape him now. It was the approaching
train, whose appearance would undoubtedly frighten Pereo toward the
entrance of the little valley guarded by him. The hill-side was
already alive with the clattering echoes of the oncoming monster,
when, to his horror, he saw the madman advancing rapidly towards
the cutting. He put spurs to his horse, and started in pursuit;
but the train was already emerging from the narrow passage,
followed by the furious rider, who had wheeled abreast of the
engine, and was, for a moment or two, madly keeping up with it.
Guest shouted to him, but his voice was lost in the roar of the
rushing caravan.
Something seemed to fly from Pereo's hand. The next moment the
train had passed; rider and horse, crushed and battered out of all
life, were rolling in the ditch, while the murderer's empty saddle
dangled at the end of a lasso, caught on the smoke-stack of one of
the murdered man's avenging improvements!
. . . . . . . . .
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