Jack Belllounds came riding down the valley trail.

His horse was in a lather of sweat.

Both hair and blood showed on the long spurs this son of a great pioneer used in his pleasure rides.

He had never loved a horse.
At a point where the trail met the brook there were thick willow patches, with open, grassy spots between.

As Belllounds reached this place a man stepped out of the willows and laid hold of the bridle.