He might now have been actuated by Venters's spirit; undoubtedly his savage running fitted the mood of his rider.

Venters bent forward swinging with the horse, and gripped his rifle.

His eye measured the distance between him and Jerry Card.
In less than two miles of running Bells began to drop behind the blacks, and Wrangle began to overhaul him.

Venters anticipated that the rustler would soon take to the sage.

Yet he did not.