He found that the bones were still intact; but the wound, having been made by a soft bullet, was an exceedingly bad one.

Blood poured from it.

Giving the horse his head, Duane wound his scarf tightly round the holes, and with teeth and hand tied it tightly.

That done, he looked back over his shoulder.
Riders were making the dust fly on the hillside road.

There were more coming round the cut where the road curved.