None the less the wrenching of the girl's back, the leverage on her flexed knee, unprotected, were unmistakable.
The horse reared again and yet again, high, striking out as she checked him.

He was getting in a fury now, for his rider still was in place.
Then with one savage sidewise shake of his head after another he plunged this way and that, rail-fencing it for the open prairie.

It looked like a bolt, which with a horse of his spirit and stamina meant but one thing, no matter how long delayed.
It all happened in a flash.

Banion caught at the rein too late, ran after--too slow, of course.

The girl was silent, shaken, but still riding.