He rode on, and soon he could not see the trail or hear his horse.

He did not know whether they traveled a mile or many times that far.

But he was conscious when the horse stopped, and had a vague sense of falling and feeling Jennie's arms before all became dark to him.
When consciousness returned he found himself lying in a little hut of mesquite branches.

It was well built and evidently some years old.

There were two doors or openings, one in front and the other at the back.
Duane imagined it had been built by a fugitive--one who meant to keep an eye both ways and not to be surprised.