|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey: against the pommel.
"What's wrong, old boy?" called Venters, looking down for a loose
shoe or a snake or a foot lamed by a picked-up stone. Unrewarded,
he raised himself from his scrutiny. Wrangle stood stiff head
high, with his long ears erect. Thus guided, Venters swiftly
gazed ahead to make out a dust-clouded, dark group of horsemen
riding down the slope. If they had seen him, it apparently made
no difference in their speed or direction.
"Wonder who they are!" exclaimed Venters. He was not disposed to
run. His cool mood tightened under grip of excitement as he
reflected that, whoever the approaching riders were, they could
 Riders of the Purple Sage |