About this, outlined upon the brown grass, appeared darker patches representing dead ponies and the bodies of Moylan and Gonzales where they had been tumbled, scalped and otherwise mutilated.

Down by the river a wounded pony tried to follow the disappearing cavalcade, but fell, giving vent to one scream of agony.

Then all was silent, motionless, the last straggler clubbing his horse pitilessly as he vanished over the ridge.
Hamlin sat up, his eyes smiling.
"We are the lucky ones, Miss McDonald," he said, his manner unconsciously more formal now that the danger had passed and a swift realization of who his companion was recurring to his mind.

"Something must have frightened them." He shaded his eyes, staring at the bluffs opposite, "But there is nothing in sight from here.

Well, the best thing we can do is to eat breakfast.