ut, if
snow fell, would be utterly blotted out. And the dull, murky sky
threatened snow, the sharp wind having already veered to the northwest.
All about stretched a dull, dead picture of desolation, a dun-colored
plain, unrelieved by vegetation, matching the skies above, extending in
every direction through weary leagues of dismal loneliness. The
searching eye caught no relief from desolate sameness, drear monotony.
Nowhere was there movement, or, any semblance of life. Behind, the
land was broken by ravines, but in every other direction it stretched
level to the horizon, except that far off southward arose irregular
ridges of sand, barren, ugly blotches, colorless, and forever changing
formation under the beating of a ceaseless wind. It was desert, across
which not even a snake crawled, and no wing of migrating bird beat the
leaden sky above.

The marks of their horses' hoofs cutting sharply into the soil, told
accurately the fugitives' rate of progress, and the pursuers swept
forward with caution, anxious to spare their mounts and to keep out of
vision themselves until nightfall. Their success depended largely on
surprise, and the confidence of those ahead that they were unpursued.
Wasson expressed the situation exactly, as the four halted a moment at
an unexpectedly-discovered water-hole.

"I 'd think this yere plain trail was some Injun trick, boys, if I did
n't know the reason fur it. 'T ain't Injun nature, but thar 's a white
man ahead o' that outfit, an' he 's cock-sure that nobody 's chasin'
him yet. He 's figurin' on two or three days' get-a-way, and so don't
care a tinker's dam 'bout these yere marks. Once in the sand, an' thar
won't be no trail anyhow. It's some kintry out thar, an' it would be
like huntin' a needle in a haystack to try an' find them fellars after
ter-night. This is my idea--we'll just mosey along slow, savin' the
hosses an' keeping back out o' sight till dark. Them fellars ain't
many hours ahead, an' are likely ter make camp furst part o' ther night
anyhow. They 'll feel safe onct hid in them sand-hills, an' if they
don't git no sight of us, most likely they won't even post no guard.
Thet 's when we want ter dig in the spurs. Ain't that about the right
program, Sergeant?"

Burning with impatience as Hamlin was, fearful that every additional
moment of delay might increase the girl's danger, he was yet soldier
and plainsman enough to realize the wisdom of the old scout. There