At length he persuaded himself that he would be able to see riders mounted on horses before they could see him on the little burro, and he rode bareback.
Hour by hour the tireless burro kept to his faithful, steady trot.

The sun sank and the long shadows lengthened down the slope.

Moving veils of purple twilight crept out of the hollows and, mustering and forming on the levels, soon merged and shaded into night.

Venters guided the burro nearer to the trail, so that he could see its white line from the ridges, and rode on through the hours.
Once down in the Pass without leaving a trail, he would hold himself safe for the time being.

When late in the night he reached the break in the sage, he sent the burro down ahead of him, and started an avalanche that all but buried the animal at the bottom of the trail.