But he could not be sure--they were going at a terrific pace now, and Sunfish was leaving them farther and farther behind.

They were outclassed, hopelessly out of pistol range, and they must have known it, for although they held to the chase they fired no more shots.
Then a dog barked, and Bud knew that he was passing a ranch.

He could smell the fresh hay in the stacks, and a moment later he descried the black hulk of ranch buildings.

Sunfish was running easily, his breath unlabored.

Bud stood in the stirrups and looked back.