The grey horse of Red Jim Perris was in hardly better condition.
"I wanted you quickly," said Marianne, a little horrified.

"But I didn't ask you to kill your horses coming." "Kill 'em ?" said Perris, and he cast a sharp glance of disapproval at her.

"Not much! That hoss of mine is a pile fagged.

I aim to get her that way.

But she'll be fit as a fiddle in the morning.