Lassiter reached it, searched along the base, and, finding a low place, dragged the weary horse up and over round, smooth stone.
Looking backward, Jane saw Tull's white horse not a mile distant, with riders strung out in a long line behind him.

Looking forward, she saw more valley to the right, and to the left a towering cliff.

Lassiter pulled the horse and kept on.
Little Fay lay in her arms with wide-open eyes--eyes which were still shadowed by pain, but no longer fixed, glazed in terror.

The golden curls blew across Jane's lips; the little hands feebly clasped her arm; a ghost of a troubled, trustful smile hovered round the sweet lips.

And Jane Withersteen awoke to the spirit of a lioness.
Lassiter was leading the horse up a smooth slope toward cedar trees of twisted and bleached appearance.