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Meanwhile, behind them raced Enoch Harding, desiring mightily to "be in at the death," as the fox-hunters say. His heavy farmhorse could not compete with the mounts of the possé, however, and with tears in his eyes he saw them increase the distance between themselves and his animal. But he doggedly pursued the road, while the clatter of hoofs grew mellow in the distance.
The next morning early, before the dew was off the young grass, Stephen Wheaton started with the wagon-load, driving the great gray farm-horse up the side of Silver Mountain. The road was fairly good, making many winds in order to avoid steep ascents, and Stephen drove slowly. The gray farmhorse was sagacious.
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