g far enough east of the Santa Fe trail to be out of the
path of raiding parties, while this desert country was shunned by Indian
hunters. It consisted of sand hill after sand hill, a drear waterless
waste where nothing grew, and amid the dread sameness of which a
traveller could only find passage by the guidance of stars at night
or the blazing sun by day. To the eye mile after mile appeared
exactly alike, with nothing whatever to distinguish either distance or
direction--the same drifting ridges of sand stretching forth in
every direction, no summit higher than another, no semblance of green
shrubbery, or silver sheen of running water anywhere to break the dull
monotony--a vast sandy plain, devoid of life, extending to the horizon,
overhung by a barren sky.

They had covered ten miles of it by daybreak, their ponies travelling
heavily, fetlock deep, but could advance no further. With the first tint
of rose in the east the brooding storm burst upon them in wild desert
fury, the fierce wind buffeting them back, lashing their faces with
sharp grit until they were unable to bear the pain. The flying sand
smote them in clouds, driven with the speed of bullets. In vain they lay
flat, urging their ponies forward; the beasts, maddened and blinded by
the merciless lashing of the sand, refused to face the storm. Keith,
all sense of direction long since lost, rolled wearily from the saddle,
burrowed under the partial shelter of a sand dune, and called upon Neb
to follow him. With their hands and feet they made a slight wind-break,
dragging the struggling ponies into its protection, and burrowed
themselves there, the clouds of sand skurrying over them so thick as
to obscure the sky, and rapidly burying them altogether as though in a
grave. Within an hour they were compelled to dig themselves out, yet it
proved partial escape from the pitiless lashing. The wind howled like
unloosed demons, and the air grew cold, adding to the sting of the grit,
when some sudden eddy hurled it into their hiding place. To endeavor
further travel would mean certain death, for no one could have guided a
course for a hundred feet through the tempest, which seemed to suck the
very breath away. To the fugitives came this comfort--if they could not
advance, then no one else could follow, and the storm was completely
blotting out their trail.

It was three o'clock before it died sufficiently down for them to
venture out. Even then the air remained full of