laid his bridle, and when he found it he fumbled unaccountably. His fingers apparently shared the agitation of his mind; an agitation which was something new in his experience, and which made him feel singularly at odds with everything, even with impersonal straps and buckles! When at last he came, she put her foot in his hand and went up like a bird to a perch.
"Everybody has got ahead of us," she said, as they put their horses into a canter.
The sun was still hot upon them, but down below, the plains were obscured as with a fog.
"What is that?" he asked.
"A dust-storm. Can you make your horse go faster?"
"Not and keep the wind in him."
"Never mind, we shall do very well."
They had come about the brow of the mountain now, and could see the great black cloud to the north. It looked pretty ugly, even to Stephen Burns's unaccustomed eyes.
"What do you expect?" he asked, as they walked their horses down a sharp descent.
"It may be only wind, but there is likely to be snow at this season. If we can only get out of the ranch we're all right; the prairie-dog holes make it bad when you can't see."
