The man nodded to him, whereat, as if he understood a spoken word, the dog dropped back and trotted ahead.

The rider touched the reins and galloped down the easy slope.

The little episode had given the effect of a three-cornered conversation.

Yet the man had been as silent as the animals.
In a moment he was lost among the hills, but still his whistling came back, fainter and fainter, until it was merely a thrilling whisper that dwelt in the air but came from no certain direction.
His course lay towards a road which looped whitely across the hills.
The road twisted over a low ridge where a house stood among a grove of cottonwoods dense enough and tall enough to break the main force of any wind.

On the same road, a thousand yards closer to the rider of the black stallion, was Morgan's place..