It would seem that his hoofs should have given out sounds that could have been heard for a considerable distance in the stillness of the night, but it was as if he were treading on velvet.

The noise was so faint that it was easy to understand how he had come to the spot without betraying himself to the intently listening sentinel.

No wonder that the Indian ponies sometimes display a sagacity fully equal, in some respects, to that of their masters.
The Indian showed in another direction his perception of the situation.
Had he been leaving the presence of one of his own race, or of a veteran white scout, he would have thrown himself forward on the back of his animal and ridden off on a dead run, for, despite the unexpected mercy shown him, he would have expected treachery at the last minute; but he had seen his master and knew that he was a young tenderfoot, inspired by a chivalrous honor which is the exception in that section of the country.

He would not shoot until good cause was given, and therefore he took care not to give such cause.
As if in harmony with the spirit of his rider, the pony walked away in a direct line, until the figure of himself and master disappeared in the gloom.

When he could see him no more, Jack lowered his gun, and stooping down, pressed his ear against the earth.