Mason stared out for some moments, shielding his eyes from the dazzling sun.
"I can't be sure," he said at last. "The nearest smoke should be my shack."
A grave anxiety crept into Dave's eyes.
"It isn't thick there," he said, as though trying to reassure himself. "That's your stovepipe?"
"Maybe."
Mason's reply expressed doubt.
Suddenly Dave leant over and his whip fell sharply across the horses' backs. They sprang at their neck-yoke and raced down into the final dip.