So it happened that when he rode into Brownsville this day he was the leader of a cavalcade.

Rumour rode before them, and doors were locked and windows were darkened, and men sat in the darkness within with their guns across their knees.

For Brownsville lay at the extreme northern tip of the triangle and it was rarely visited by Jerry; and it is well established that men fear the unfamiliar more than the known.
As has been said, Jerry headed the train of revellers, partially because it was most unwise to cut in ahead of Jerry and partially because there was not a piece of horseflesh in the Three B's which could outfoot his chestnut.

It was a gelding out of the loins of the north wind and sired by the devil himself, and its spirit was one with the spirit of Jerry Strann; perhaps because they both served one master.

The cavalcade came with a crash of racing hoofs in a cloud of dust.