You'll be warm in a jiffy," he replied, "because we'll ride some goin' back.

Let Ranger pick the way an' you hang on." With Ranger's first jump Helen's blood began to run.

Out he shot, his lean, dark head beside Dale's horse.

The wild park lay clear and bright in the moonlight, with strange, silvery radiance on the grass.

The patches of timber, like spired black islands in a moon-blanched lake, seemed to harbor shadows, and places for bears to hide, ready to spring out.