He rode up to a rise of ground and scanned the country suspiciously before he led the way into the creek bed.

Even then he kept close under the bank until they had passed two of the quarter-mile posts that had been planted in the hard sand.
Evidently he had been doing a good deal of thinking during the ride; certainly he had watched Smoky.

When he stopped under the bank opposite the half-mile post he dismounted more spryly than one would have expected.

His eyes were bright, his voice sharp.

Pop was forgetting his age.
"I guess I'll ride yore horse m'self," he announced, and they exchanged horses under the shelter of the bank.