Not even black Thunder could make up as much ground as that.
So all the fifteen miles to Gaffney's place he urged his horse.

The excitement of the race kept the thought of McGurk back in his mind.
Only once he lost time when he had to pull up beside a buckboard and inquire the way.

After that he flew on again.

Yet as he clattered up to the door of Gaffney's crossroads saloon and swung to the ground he looked back and saw a cluster of horsemen swing around the shoulder of a hill and come tearing after him.

Surely his time was short.
He thrust open the door of the place and called for a drink.