Wait till he smells the sage!" "Jerd, this horse is an iron-jawed devil.

I never straddled him but once.

Run?
Say, he's swift as wind!" When Venters's boot touched the stirrup the sorrel bolted, giving him the rider's flying mount.

The swing of this fiery horse recalled to Venters days that were not really long past, when he rode into the sage as the leader of Jane Withersteen's riders.

Wrangle pulled hard on a tight rein.