Jake was not a range-bred horse, and if there was a buck-jump in his system, it had never betrayed itself.

After all, Mary V's chance of lying hurt was minimized by the very fact that she rode Jake.
Red hill came sliding rapidly toward them.

Now it was beneath, and the plane had risen sharply to the air current that flowed steadily over the hill.

It swooped down again--they were over the flat where he had seen the riders.

The line of fence showed like knotted thread drawn across the land.