So it was that Mont Sterry would have detected any injury to his horse as quickly as she herself.

No matter if but the abrasion of the skin, the puncture of the flesh, or the nipping of an ear, she would betray it involuntarily.
If she were wounded and should fall, the situation of her rider would be well-nigh hopeless.

He could only throw himself behind her body and have it out with his enemies.

Such a defence has been successfully made many a time by white men against Indians; but Sterry would not be fighting Crows nor Sioux, but those of his own race and blood, as brave and skilful as he.
"Thank God!" he murmured, after each shot, as the splendid play of the machinery under him continued without a break or tremor; "she was not hit that time.

She is running at her best." Once his heart stood still, for she seemed to quiver through her body, as if involuntarily shrinking from the prick of a sword.
In his alarm, Sterry rose to an upright posture in the saddle, and leaning to the right and left, and looking forward and behind him, searched for the wound.