One day both Denton and I plainly saw one with saddle marks on him.

If only one of us had seen him, it wouldn't have counted much, but we both made him out.

This encouraged us wonderfully, though I don't see why it should have.

We had topped the high country, too, and had started down the other side of the mountains that ran out on the promontory.

Denton and I were still navigating without any thought of giving up, but Schwartz was getting in bad shape.