It was some time before I spoke again, and, when I did, the subject was quite different; I was mourning because I hadn't the _Yellow Peril_ to eat up the miles with.
"What good would that do yuh ?" Frosty asked, with a composure I could only call unfeeling.

"Yuh couldn't get a train, anyway, before the one yuh _will_ get; motors are all right, in their place--but a horse isn't to be despised, either.

I'd rather be stranded with a tired horse than a broken-down motor." I did not agree with him, partly because I was not at all pleased with my present mount, and partly because I was not in amiable mood; so we galloped along in sulky silence, while a washed-out moon sidled over our heads and dodged behind cloud-banks quite as if she were ashamed to be seen.

The coyotes got to yapping out somewhere in the dark, and, as we came among the breaks that border the Missouri, a gray wolf howled close at hand.
Perry Potter's horse, that had shown unmistakable symptoms of disgust at the endless gallop he had been called upon to maintain, shied sharply away from the sound, stumbled from leg-weariness, and fell heavily; for the second time that night I had need to show my dexterity--but, in this case, with Perry Potter's stirrups swinging somewhere in the vicinity of my knees, the danger of getting caught was not so great.

I stood there in the dark loneliness of the silent hills and the howling wolf, and looked down at the brute with little pity and a good deal of resentment.