ng sounds. Presently, no doubt, he would hear voices. In this
devil's caldron a man could not stay quite sane.

Again, as if from below his feet, was lifted a strangled, little sob.

"Lee!" he called huskily with what was left of his voice.

Something in the cavern moved. By means of outcropping spars of rock he
lowered himself swiftly.

The darkness was Stygian. He struck another match.

From the gloom beyond the space lit by the small flame came the rustle of
something stirring. The match burned out. He lit another and groped
forward. His foot struck an impediment.

He looked down into the startled eyes and white face of Lee Snaith.

Chapter XXVI

A Dust-Storm

It had been a beautiful day of sunshine when Lee left Live-Oaks to ride
to the Ninety-Four Ranch. Not a breath of wind stirred. The desert slept
in a warm, golden bath. It was peaceful as old age.

But as the sun slipped past the meridian, gusts swept across the sands
and whipped into the air inverted cones that whirled like vast tops in a
wild race to nowhere. The air waves became more frequent and more
furious. When Lee passed the buckboard driver, the whole desert seemed
alive with stinging sand.

He called something to her that was lost in the wind. The girl waved at
him a gauntleted hand. She had been out in dust-storms before and was not
in the least alarmed. Across the lower part of her face she had tied a
silk handkerchief to protect her mouth and nostrils from the sand.

The mail carrier had scarcely disappeared before the fury of the wind
increased. It lashed the ground with heavy whips, raging and screaming in
shrill, whistling frenzy, until the desert rose in terror and began to
shift.

Lee bent her head to escape the sand that filled her eyes and nostrils
and beat upon her cheeks so unmercifully. She thought perhaps the tempest
would abate soon and she slipped from the saddle to crouch close to the
body of the horse for protection. Instead of decreasing, the gale rose to
a hurricane. It was as if the whole sand plain was in continuous,
whirling motion.

The horse grew frightened and restless. It was a young three-year-old Jim
Clanton had broken for her. Somehow--Lee did not know quite the way
it happened--the bridle rein slipped from her fingers and the colt was
gone.

She ran after the pony--called to it frantically--fought in pursuit
against the shrieking blasts. The animal disappeared, swallowed in the
whirl-wind that