She's pretty wet, but sweat never hurt nothing on four feet, eh ?" "I dunno," returned Ronicky Doone.

"I'd as soon run off with a man's wife as his hoss." "Partner," said Bill Gregg desperately, "I have to get there!" "Then get there on your own feet, not the feet of another gent's hoss." Gregg controlled his rising anger.

Beyond him the train was looming larger and larger in the plain, and Stillwater seemed more and more distant.

He writhed in the saddle.
"I tell you I'll pay--I'll pay the whole value of the hoss, if you want." He was about to say more when he saw the eyes of Ronicky Doone widen and fix.
"Look," said the other suddenly, "you've been cutting her up with the spurs!" Gregg glanced down to the flank of the bay to discover that he had used the spurs more recklessly than he thought.

A sharp rowel had picked through the skin, and, though it was probably only a slight wound indeed, it had brought a smear of red to the surface.
Ronicky Doone trembled with anger.
"Confound you!" he said furiously.