They came, of course, from the little towns, the railroads, the cities.

At this season, with harvest-time near at hand, it had been in former years no unusual sight to see strings of laborers passing by.

But this year they came earlier, and in greater numbers.
With the wind in his face, however, Dorn saw nothing but the horses and the brown line ahead, and half the time they were wholly obscured in yellow dust.

He began thinking about Lenore Anderson, just pondering that strange, steady look of a girl's eyes; and then he did not mind the dust or heat or distance.

Never could he be cheated of his thoughts.