Jerry also became active.

And the three racers lengthened out into a run.
"Now, Wrangle!" cried Venters.

"Run, you big devil! Run!" Venters laid the reins on Wrangle's neck and dropped the loop over the pommel.

The sorrel needed no guiding on that smooth trail.

He was surer-footed in a run than at any other fast gait, and his running gave the impression of something devilish.