It showed how fast Pete Glass could work and how well he knew Alder, for Vic himself could not have selected five cooler fighters among the villagers or five finer mounts.

The posse switched around the end of the street and darted up the hill like the curling lash of a whip.
"Good," said Vic Gregg.

"The damn fools will wind their horses before they hit the pass." He put Grey Molly into an easy trot, for the floor of the pass dipped up and down, littered with sharp-toothed rocks or treacherous, rolling ones, as bad a place for speed as a stiff upslope.

According to his nicest calculation the posse could not reach the edge of the gulch before he was at the farther side, out of range of everything except a long chance shot, so he took note of things as he went and observed a spot of pale silver skirting through the brush on the eastern ridge of the gorge.

There would be moonlight that night and another chance in favor of Pete Glass.