r steep bank through the dense gloom. Then the two men
joined hands, and carrying her easily between them, waded the shallow
stream. The horses, not yet sufficiently rested to be frisky, accepted
their burdens meekly enough, and, with scarcely a word spoken, the three
rode away silently into the gloom of the night.

Chapter XII. Through the Night Shadows

Keith had very little to guide him, as he could not determine whether
this mysterious cabin on the Salt Fork lay to east or west of the
usual cattle trail leading down to the Canadian. Yet he felt reasonably
assured that the general trend of the country lying between the smaller
stream and the valley of the Arkansas would be similar to that with
which he was already acquainted. It was merely a wild stretch of sandy
desolation, across which their horses would leave scarcely any trail,
and even that little would be quickly obliterated by the first puff of
wind. As they drew in toward the river valley this plain would change
into sand dunes, baffling and confusing, but no matter how hard they
pressed forward, it must be daylight long before they could hope
to reach these, and this would give him opportunity to spy out some
familiar landmark which would guide them to the ford. Meanwhile, he must
head as directly north as possible, trusting the horses to find footing.

It was plains instinct, or rather long training in the open, which
enabled him to retain any true sense of direction, for beyond the narrow
fringe of cotton-woods along the stream, nothing was visible, the eyes
scarcely able even to distinguish where earth and sky met. They advanced
across a bare level, without elevation or depression, yet the sand
appeared sufficiently solid, so that their horses were forced into a
swinging lope, and they seemed to fairly press aside the black curtain,
which as instantly swung shut once more, and closed them in. The
pounding hoofs made little noise, and they pressed steadily onward,
closely bunched together, so as not to lose each other, dim, spectral
shadows flitting through the night, a very part of that grim desolation
surrounding them. No one of the three felt like speaking; the gloomy,
brooding desert oppressed them, their vagrant thoughts assuming the
tinge of their surroundings; their hope centred on escape. Keith rode,
grasping the rein of the woman's horse in his left hand, and bending
low in vain effort at picking a path. He had nothing to aim toward, ye