In the face of each there was something which gave the other assurance.

For the first time it struck Philip that his companion was something more than an operator at Bleak House Station.

He was a fighter.

He was a man of the stamp needed down at Headquarters, and he was bound to tell him so before this affair was over.

He was thinking of it when they came to the second ridge.
Five miles to the north and west loomed the black line of the Bad Lands.
To a tenderfoot they would not have appeared to be more than a mile distant.