The trail was only a white streak in blurred gray.

She could not get her breath; the wind seemed to whip the air away from her.

And then she felt the lessening of the tremendous pace.

Sage King had run himself out and the miles were behind her.

Gradually her sight became clear, and as the hot and wet horse slowed down, satisfied with his wild run, Lucy realized that she was up on the slope only a few miles from home.