He was tired and thirsty and hungry.

It was so still that the silence hurt, and that fence corner was nowhere in sight.
He could not, now reach home before dark, even should he turn back; which, he decided grimly, he would not do.

He would ride that fence if he camped three nights on the journey.
Suddenly he sprang to his feet, waving his hat, hallooing and yelling like a madman.

Two horsemen were riding on the other side of the fence, along the slope of the next ridge, at the edge of the timber.

In vain Patches strove to attract their attention.