He let Night have a free rein and felt him lengthen out to suit himself, knowing he would keep to Black Star's course, knowing that he had been chosen by the best rider now on the upland sage.

For Jerry Card was dead.

And fame had rivaled him with only one rider, and that was the slender girl who now swung so easily with Black Star's stride.

Venters had abhorred her notoriety, but now he took passionate pride in her skill, her daring, her power over a horse.

And he delved into his memory, recalling famous rides which he had heard related in the villages and round the camp-fires.