These hopes were well founded.

Presently he heard a clatter of hoofs on hard ground to the south, and upon wheeling to look he saw the friendly neighbor coming fast along the road, riding a big white horse.
Blaisdell carried a rifle in his hand, and the sight of him gave Jean a glow of warmth.

He was one of the Texans who would stand by the Isbels to the last man.

Jean watched him ride to the house--watched the meeting between him and his lifelong friend.

There floated out to Jean old Blaisdell's roar of rage.
Then out on the green of Grass Valley, where a long, swelling plain swept away toward the village, there appeared a moving dark patch.