And soon they caught the far off beat of a horse in a rapid gallop.
"Is it that ?" cried Kate, leaning forward and touching her father's hand.

"Is that horse what you hear ?" "No, no!" he answered impatiently.

"That ain't what I hear.

It ain't no hoss that I hear!" The hoof-beats grew louder--stopped before the house--steps sounded loud and rattling on the veranda--a door squeaked and slammed--and Buck Daniels stood before them.

His hat was jammed down so far that his eyes were almost buried in the shadow of the brim; the bandana at his throat was twisted so that the knot lay over his right shoulder; he carried a heavy quirt in a hand that trembled so that the long lash seemed alive; a thousand bits of foam had dried upon his vest and stained it; the rowels of his spurs were caked and enmeshed with horsehair; dust covered his face and sweat furrowed it, and a keen scent of horse-sweat passed from him through the room.