In the first watch after the twilight, a faint puff of breeze came up out of the south.

From all around, the heavy penetrating smell of the new-turned earth exhaled steadily into the darkness.

After a while, when the moon came up, he could see the vast brown breast of the earth turn toward it.

Far off, distant objects came into view: The giant oak tree at Hooven's ranch house near the irrigating ditch on Los Muertos, the skeleton-like tower of the windmill on Annixter's Home ranch, the clump of willows along Broderson Creek close to the Long Trestle, and, last of all, the venerable tower of the Mission of San Juan on the high ground beyond the creek.
Thitherward, like homing pigeons, Vanamee's thoughts turned irresistibly.

Near to that tower, just beyond, in the little hollow, hidden now from his sight, was the Seed ranch where Angele Varian had lived.