There was no plan in his mind; he was merely going to keep his eyes open, and when opportunity came he was going to take advantage of it.
The darkness deepened as he drove.

When he reached the crest of the slope from which that morning he had looked down upon Lazette, the wagon entered a stretch of broken country through which the horses made slow progress.

After traversing this section he encountered a flat, dull plain of sand, hard and smooth, which the horses appreciated, for they traveled rapidly, straining willingly in the harness.
It was about nine o'clock when the moon rose, a pale yellow disk above the hills that rimmed the valley of the Lazy Y, and Calumet welcomed it with a smile, lighting a cigarette and leaning back comfortably in the seat, with the reins held between his knees.
He presently thought of his weapons, drawing them out and reloading them.

They recalled the incident of the Red Dog, and for a long time his thoughts dwelt on it, straight, grim lines in his face.
He wondered what Betty would say when she heard of it.

Would it affect her future relations with Taggart?
His thoughts were still of Betty when the wagon careened out of the level and began to crawl up a slope that led through some hills.