The grass stretched away, blurred and shadowy, and though they could see nothing that moved upon it, a beat of hoofs came softly back to them.
"Wind's bringing the sound," said the teamster.

"Guess they won't hear us." They rode out into the gray obscurity, losing the sound now and then.
They had gone several leagues when they came to the edge of a dark bluff.

Drawing bridle, they sat and listened, until the teamster broke the silence.
"There's a trail runs through; we'll try it." The trail was difficult to find and bad to follow, for long grass and willow-scrub partly covered it, and in spite of their caution the men made a good deal of noise.

That, however, seemed of less importance, for they could hear nothing ahead, and George looked about carefully as they crossed a more open space.

The trees were getting blacker and more distinct; he could see their tops clearly against the sky, and guessed that dawn was near.