Dazed with the suddenness of it, and with a knowledge of what portended, he came to the spot where Soapy's horse had stumbled and looked upon what was left of the man.

His face dead white, his hands trembling, he spread his blanket over the spot.
He had formed an affection for Soapy.
Mounting Streak, he resumed his ride toward the camp.

A dead silence filled the wide level from which the stampede had started--a silence except for the faint bellowing that still reached his ears from the direction of the Hole.
Half a mile from where he had found the pitiable remnants of Soapy he came upon Carter.

The range boss was lying prone on his back, his body apparently unmarred.

His horse was standing near him, grazing.