Of all the daring horsemen of the uplands, Jerry was the one rider fitted to bring out the greatness of the blacks in that long race.

He had them on a dead run, but not yet at the last strained and killing pace.

From time to time he glanced backward, as a wise general in retreat calculating his chances and the power and speed of pursuers, and the moment for the last desperate burst.

No doubt, Card, with his life at stake, gloried in that race, perhaps more wildly than Venters.

For he had been born to the sage and the saddle and the wild.