He
caught sight of his father, and two other riders, rather far ahead,
riding, shooting either behind or in front of a waving pall of dust.
The ground down there was dry, and though covered with grass and sage,
it had equally as much bare surface, from which the plunging hoofs
kicked up the yellow smoke.

Pan had a front of two miles and more to guard, and the distance was
increasing every moment. The drive swept down to the left, massing
toward the apex where the fence and slope met. This was still miles
away. Pan could see landmarks he recognized, high up on the horizon.
Many bands of horses were now in motion. They streaked to and fro
across lighter places in the dust cloud. Pan wanted to stay out in the
clear, so that he could see distinctly, but he was already behind his
comrades. No horses were running up the wash. So he worked over
toward where he had last observed his father, and gave up any attempt
at further orderly driving.

It was plain that his comrades had soon broken the line. Probably in
such a case, where so many horses were running, it was not possible to
keep a uniform front. But Pan thought they could have done better. He
saw strings of horses passing him to the left. They had broken
through. This was to be expected. No doubt the main solid mass was
now on a stampede toward the south.

Pan let stragglers and small bunches go by him. There were, however,
no large bands of horses running back, at least that he could see. He
rode to and fro, at a fast clip, across this dust-clouded basin,
heading what horses happened to come near him. The melee of dust and
animals thickened. He now heard the clip-clop of hoofs, here, there,
everywhere, with the mass of sound to the fore. Presently he appeared
surrounded by circles of dust and stringing horses. It was like a huge
corral full of frightened animals running wild through dust so thick
that they could not be seen a hundred feet distant. Pan turned horses
back, but he could not tell how quickly they would wheel again and
elude him.

Once he thought he saw a rider on a white mount, yet could not be sure.
Then he decided he was mistaken, for none of Blinky's horses were white.

This melee down in the dusty basin was bad. Driving was hampered by
the obscurity. Pan could only hope the main line of wild horses was
sweeping on as it had started.

After a long patrol in the dust and heat of that valley flat, Pan
emerged, it seemed, into