The fugitives felt a chill of awe, but in a moment or two they threw it off, only to have its place taken a little later by the real chill of the coming night.

A wind began to moan over the desolate plain, and their faces were stung now and then by the fine grains of sand blown against them.

But as the Lipans were gaining but little, Ned and Obed still walked their horses.
They went on thus nearly an hour.

The night came, but it was not dark, and they could yet see the Lipans following as certain as death.

Before them the plain still rolled away, bare and brown.