In ones and twos, with wide intervals between, they reached along a half-mile of the road.

Two--the best mounted--rode together at the head.

Two hundred yards below the great white rock, which shone as innocent and kindly as a fleecy Summer cloud, a broad rivulet wound its way toward the neighboring creek.

The blown horses scented the grateful water, and checked down to drink of it.

The right-hand rider loosened his bridle that his steed might gratify himself.