Through the willows they dashed, over logs and brush heaps, up the little ridges of rising ground, and down the shallow gullies, unheeding the stinging branches and the splashing water.

Half the distance covered and Alfred turned, to find the roan close behind.

On a level road he would have laughed at the attempt of that horse to keep up with his racer, but he was beginning to fear that the strong limbed stallion deserved his reputation.

Directly before them rose a pile of logs and matted brush, placed there by the daredevil settlers who had mapped out the route.

It was too high for any horse to be put at.