fatigue. They drew up
here, and the marshal dismounted, searching about blindly in the
darkness.

"Too damn dark," he said, coming back, and catching up his rein. "A
cat couldn't find anything there; but there's firm sand. Wait a
minute; I've got a pocket compass."

He struck a match, sheltering the sputtering blaze with one hand. The
light illuminated his face for an instant, and then went out, leaving
the night blacker than before.

"That's south," he announced, snapping the compass-case shut, "and this
blame wind is southeast; that ought to keep us fairly straight."

"The ponies will do that; they'll keep where the travelling is good.
Shift this bag back of your saddle, Dan. You ride lighter, and my
horse is beginning to pant already; that will ease him a few pounds."

The transfer was made, and the two men rode out into the rear desert,
urging their animals forward, trusting largely to their natural
instinct for guidance. They would follow the hard sand, and before
long the scent of water would as certainly lead them directly toward
the spring. With reins dangling and bodies crouched to escape the
blast of the sharp wind, neither spoke as they plunged through the
gloom which circled about them like a black wall.

Yet it was not long until dawn began to turn the desert grey, gradually
revealing its forlorn desolation. Westcott lifted his head, and gazed
about with wearied eyes, smarting still from the whipping of the
sand-grit. On every side stretched away a scene of utter desolation,
unrelieved by either shrub or tree--an apparently endless ocean of
sand, in places levelled by the wind, and elsewhere piled into
fantastic heaps. There were no landmarks, nothing on which the mind
could concentrate--just sand, barren, shapeless, ever-changing form,
stretching to the far horizons. The breeze slackened somewhat as the
sun reddened the east, and the ponies threw up their heads and whinnied
slightly, increasing their speed. Westcott saw the marshal arouse
himself, straighten in the saddle, and stare about, his eyes still dull
and heavy.

"One hell of a view, Jim," he said disgustedly, "but I reckon we can't
be a great ways from that spring. We've been ridin' right smart."

"It's not far ahead; the ponies sniff water. Did you ever see anything
more dismal and desolate?"

"Blamed if I see how even a Mex can run cattle through here."

"They know the trails, and the water-holes--ah! there's a bunch o'