He lifted his eyes to the West with longing too great for words, eager to see the great peaks peer above the plain's rim.
The night was far spent when the brakeman called the name of the little town in which he had left his outfit, and he rose up stiff and sore from his cramped position.
Kintuck, restless from long confinement in a stall, chuckled with joy when his master entered and called to him.

It was still dark, but that mattered little to such as Mose.

He flung the saddle on and cinched it tight.

He rolled his extra clothes in his blanket and tied it behind his saddle, and then, with one hand on his pommel, he said to the hostler, moved by a bitter recklessness of mind: "Well, that squares us, stranger.

If anybody asks you which-a-way 'Black Mose' rode jist say ye didn't notice." A leap, a rush of hoofs, and the darkness had eaten both horse and man.
It was a long ride, and as he rode the dawn came over the plains, swift, silent, majestic with color.