The bed on which Bull Hunter reposed his bulk that night was not the cot to which he was shown by his host.

One glance at the spindling wooden legs of the canvas-bottomed cot was enough for Bull, and having wrapped himself in the covers he lay down on the floor and was instantly asleep.
While it was still dark, he wakened out of a dream in which Pete Reeve seemed to be riding far--far away on the rim of the world.

Ten minutes later Bull was on the trail out of Johnstown.

There was only one trail for a horseman south of Johnstown, and that trail followed the windings of the valley.

Bull planned to push across the ragged peaks of the Little Cloudy Mountains and head off the fugitive at Glenn Crossing.
Two days of stern labor went into the next burst.