Let us ride on.

If he wants to see us again he'll come." So they mounted and rode out to the cattle trail and began to climb.
From the height of the ridge, where they had started down, Venters looked back.

He did not see Lassiter, but his glance, drawn irresistibly farther out on the gradual slope, caught sight of a moving cloud of dust.
"Hello, a rider!" "Yes, I see," said Jane.
"That fellow's riding hard.

Jane, there's something wrong." "Oh yes, there must be....

How he rides!" The horse disappeared in the sage, and then puffs of dust marked his course.
"He's short-cut on us--he's making straight for the corrals." Venters and Jane galloped their steeds and reined in at the turning of the lane.