Neither words nor spur served to move her from the slow walk into which she had fallen.

Such a thing had not happened since the beginning of their acquaintance in far-away San Antonio, and the young trooper dismounted to discover what had gone wrong.
He had not far to look, for, as he touched the ground, a red trickle of blood caught his eye.

The plucky little mare had been hit by one of the beef-riders' shots, but had given no sign until now, when her weakness could no longer be overcome.

So copious was the flow of blood that it was evident an artery had been severed, and already had the loss been very great.

In vain did Ridge strive to stanch the cruel outspurt.