He turned west to the blare of the sunset. Blue Mountains tumbled away in
lessening ranges--beyond was Craterville, and he must go there today.
That was the world to him just then. And something new passed through
Terry. The world was below him; it lay at his feet with its hopes and its
battles. And he was strong for the test. He had been living in a dream.
Now he would live in fact. And it was glorious to live!

And when his arms fell, his right hand lodged instinctively on the butt
of his revolver. It was a prophetic gesture, but there, again, was
something that Terry Hollis did not understand.

He called to El Sangre softly. The stallion responded with the faintest
of whinnies to the vibrant power in the voice of the master; and at that
smooth, effortless pace, he glided down the hillside, weaving dexterously
among the jagged outcroppings of rock. A period had been placed after
Terry's old life. And this was how he rode into the new.

The long and ever-changing mountain twilight began as he wound through
the lower ranges. And when the full dark came, he broke from the last
sweep of foothills and El Sangre roused to a gallop over the level toward
Craterville.

He had been in the town before, of course. But he felt this evening that
he had really never seen it before. On other days what existed outside of
Bear Valley did not very much matter. That was the hub around which the
rest of the world revolved, so far as Terry was concerned. It was very
different now. Craterville, in fact, was a huddle of broken-down houses
among a great scattering of boulders with the big mountains plunging up
on every side to the dull blue of the night sky.