I have learned a lot in
the past few days, Winthrop--enough to know that no matter what
happens, you have played a man's part--with the rest of them. Come,
I'm ready."
Endicott tied the scarf about her face and assisted her to mount, then,
throwing her bridle reins over the horn of his saddle as the Texan had
done, he headed down the coulee. For three hours the horses drifted
with the storm, following along coulees, crossing low ridges, and long
level stretches where the sweep of the wind seemed at times as though
it would tear them from the saddles. Endicott's horse stumbled
frequently, and each time the recovery seemed more and more of an
effort. Then suddenly the wind died--ceased to blow as abruptly as it
had started. The man could scarcely believe his senses as he listened
in vain for the roar of it--the steady, sullen roar, that had rung in
his ears, it seemed, since the beginning of time. Thick dust filled
the air but when he turned his face toward the west no sand particles
stung his skin. Through a rift he caught sight of a low butte--a butte
that was not nearby. Alice tore the scarf from her face. "It has
stopped!" she cried, excitedly. "The storm is over!"
"Thank God!" breathed Endicott, "the dust is beginning to settle." He
dismounted and swung the girl to the ground.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297