g sky was the harbinger of day. Hare
could not bring himself to face the light and heat, and he stopped at a
wind-worn cave under a shelving rock. He was asleep when he rolled out
on the sand-strewn floor. Once he awoke and it was still day, for his
eyes quickly shut upon the glare. He lay sweltering till once more
slumber claimed him. The dog awakened him, with cold nose and low whine.
Another twilight had fallen. Hare crawled out, stiff and sore, hungry
and parching with thirst. He made an attempt to eat, but it was a
failure. There was a dry burning in his throat, a dizzy feeling in his
brain, and there were red flashes before his eyes. Wolf refused meat,
and Silvermane turned from the grain, and lowered his head to munch a
few blades of desert grass.

Then the journey began, and the night fell black. A cool wind blew from
the west, the white stars blinked, the weird moon rose with its ghastly
glow. Huge bowlders rose before him in grotesque shapes, tombs and
pillars and statues of Nature's dead, carved by wind and sand. But some
had life in Hare's disordered fancy. They loomed and towered over him,
and stalked abroad and peered at him with deep-set eyes.

Hare fought with all his force against this mood of gloom. Wolf was not
a phantom; he trotted forward with unerring instinct; and he would find
water, and that meant life. Silvermane, desert-steeled, would travel to
the furthermost corner of this hell of sand-swept stone. Hare tried to
collect all his spirit, all his energies, but the battle seemed to
be going against him. All about him was silence, breathless silence,
insupportable silence of ages. Desert spectres danced in the darkness.
The worn-out moon gleamed golden over the worn-out waste. Desolation
lurked under the sable shadows.

Hare rode on into the night, tumbled from his saddle in the gray of dawn
to sleep, and stumbled in the twilight to his drooping horse. His eyes
were blind now to the desert shapes, his brain burned and his tongue
filled his mouth. Silvermane trod ever upon Wolf's heels; he had come
into the kingdom of his desert-strength; he lifted his drooping head and
lengthened his stride; weariness had gone and he snorted his welcome to
something on the wind. Then he passed the limping dog and led the way.

Hare held to the pommel and bent dizzily forward in the saddle.
Silvermane was going down, step by step, with metallic clicks upon
flinty rock. Whether he went down or up was all the sam