Such a man as Pete Reeve had indeed been in Glenn Crossing, but he had gone on at the very verge of day and night.
Bull Hunter set his teeth, for there was no longer a possibility of cutting off Pete Reeve by crossing country.

The immense labors of the last three days had merely served to put him on the heels of the horseman, and now he must follow straight down country and attempt to match his long legs against the speed of a fine horse.

He drew a deep breath and plunged into the night out of Glenn Crossing, on the south trail.

At least he would make one short, stiff march before the weariness overtook him.
That weariness clouded his brain ten miles out.

He built a fire in a cover of pines and slept beside it.