The ground was rough, with tufts of grass growing close together, yet the horses did not stumble.

Their action and snorting betrayed excitement.

Dale led around several clumps of timber, up a long grassy swale, and then straight westward across an open flat toward where the dark-fringed forest-line raised itself wild and clear against the cold sky.

The horses went swiftly, and the wind cut like a blade of ice.

Helen could barely get her breath and she panted as if she had just climbed a laborsome hill.