Venters imagined the rider would keep well out of range of the rifle, but, as he would be lost on the sage without a horse, not improbably he would linger in the vicinity on the chance of getting back one of the blacks.

Night soon came trotting up, hot and wet and run out.
Venters led him down near the others, and unsaddling him, let him loose to rest.

Night wearily lay down in the dust and rolled, proving himself not yet spent.
Then Venters sat down to rest and think.

Whatever the risk, he was compelled to stay where he was, or comparatively near, for the night.
The horses must rest and drink.

He must find water.