The Steam Horse went ahead at quite a rapid gait.
Beaver Bill’s pony followed on behind at a rapid gallop.
The trained animal would at intervals lift its head and neigh shrilly.
“I tell ye, I’m proud of that leetle hoss,” declared the trapper. “He mayn’t be able to jog quite so fast as yer Steam Hoss, but he knows a heap an’ I kin tell yer he’s bin in many a hot scrimmage with me an’ many a time but fer the leetle chap I’d never hev got through.”
“Indeed!” said Frank. “I should think you would be much attached to him.”
“You bet I am, straunger.”
The face of the country here had the happy virtue of being level, though bare and arid.
There were vast tracts of red clay burned beneath the sun’s rays as hard as adamant.
Then sandy plains were crossed and alkali basins.
At times gnarled pillars of coagulated rock were encountered, making a rival of the Bad Lands.