Once they halted to drink from a narrow stream, and then pushed on, hour after hour, through the deserted night.

Keith had little fear of Indian raiders in that darkness, and every stride of his horse brought him closer to the settlements and further removed from danger.

Yet eyes and ears were alert to every shadow and sound.

Once, it must have been after midnight, he drew his pony sharply back into a rock shadow at the noise of something approaching from the east.

The stage to Santa Fe rattled past, the four mules trotting swiftly, a squad of troopers riding hard behind.