And it's a fact that, ticklish as was the situation, my first thought was: "So her name's Beryl, is it?
Mighty pretty name, and fits her, too." King wasn't thinking anything so sentimental, I'll wager.

He yelled to two or three fellows, as I shot by them near the first corral: "Round up that thus-and-how"-- I hate to say the words right out--"and bring him back here!" Then he sent a bullet zipping past my ear, and from the house came a high, nasal squawk which, I gathered, came from the old party I had seen the day before.
I went clippety-clip around those sheds and corrals, till I like to have snapped my head off; I knew Shylock could take first money over any ordinary cayuse, and I let him out; but, for all that, I heard them coming, and it sounded as if they were about to ride all over me, they were so close.
Past the last shed I went streaking it, and my heart remembered what it was made for, and went to work.

I don't feel that, under the circumstances, it's any disgrace to own that I was scared.

I didn't hear any more little singing birds fly past, so I straightened up enough to look around and see what was doing in the way of pursuit.
One glance convinced me that my pursuers weren't going to sleep in their saddles.

One of them, on a little buckskin that was running with his ears laid so flat it looked as if he hadn't any, was widening the loop in his rope, and yelling unfriendly things as he spurred after me; the others were a length behind, and I mentally put them out of the race.