It was too vivid, distinct and near for him to mistake its nature.

It was a burning building, the flames showing so strongly that, aware as he was of the deceptive nature of such a light, he knew it was no more than a mile away.

He turned the head of his mare in that direction.
"Things seem to be stirring to-night," was his thought as he galloped forward, with his gaze fixed on the burning structure.

"That may be an accident, but such accidents are not common in this part of the world." His supposition was that it was the work of the rustlers, but he was mistaken.
The building was similar to that occupied by the Whitneys, though somewhat smaller, and burned so fast that when he reached the spot it was a mass of blazing embers, with hardly a semblance of the original structure remaining.
The sight was interesting of itself, but the attention of Sterry was riveted by the figure of a man lying motionless on the ground, only a few paces in front of where the door had been.

His nerveless right hand still grasped the Winchester with which he had evidently made a sturdy fight when stricken down.
Sterry did not dismount, but, sitting in the saddle, looked on the sorrowful sight as revealed by the glow of the burning building.