"Fine as silk," he answered after a minute.
They skirted a crag and the devastation of the flames was hidden from them. No time was to be lost. With Lafe leading the way, they advanced at a quickened gait.
"Here I go."
"Here I go."
"Here—I—go," said the last man in a faint voice.
He settled gently in the saddle and Scrapper came to a halt. The reins trailed on the ground and the rider's hands were gripping the mane.
Thus did Buffalo Jim face the music, atop a good horse, as he had hoped—the music of the spheres, swelling in the blood-red dawn that broke back of The Hatter.