Those few miles had scarcely warmed the black, but Venters wished to save him.

Bess turned, and, though she was far away, Venters caught the white glint of her waving hand.

He held Night to a trot and rode on, seeing Bess and Black Star, and the sloping upward stretch of sage, and from time to time the receding black riders behind.

Soon they disappeared behind a ridge, and he turned no more.

They would go back to Lassiter's trail and follow it, and follow in vain.