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Jackson, wounded and weary as he was, drove his crippled horse so hard

all the night through that by dawn he had covered alons, crawling like a serpent

down the slopes west of the South Pass, a cloud of bitter alkali dust

hanging like a blanket over theray, bare expanse of more than a hundred miles, and

none offered less invitation for a bivouac But now boththat he would be reached within an hour or so at best, Jackson

used the last energies of his horse in riding back and forth at right

angles across the trail, the Plains sign of "Co himself down across the road, in the dust, his

bridle tied to his wrist His horse, now nearly gone, lay down beside

hiallop could bring

them up, Banion and three of his men found them, one dead, the other

little better

"Bill! Bill!"

The voice of Banion was anxious as he lightly shook the shoulder of the

prone man, half afraid that he, too, had died Stupid in sleep, the

scout sprang up, rifle in hand

"Who's thar?"

"Hold, Bill! Friends! Easy now!"

The old ether, rubbed his eyes

"I in," said he "My horse--psha, pore