A dull, gray haze was sweeping southward.

It mingled with the southern light and threw a ghostly glare into the valley, making distance deceptive, giving a strange appearance to the landmarks with which Lawler and the horse were familiar.
Lawler increased Red King's pace.

He saw that the storm was nearer than he had thought, and he would have to work fast to get the cattle headed into the valley before it broke.
The distance from the Circle L ranchhouse to the big plain near the line cabin was about fifteen miles, and the trail led upward in a long, tiresome rise.

Yet Red King struck the level with a reserve strength that was betrayed by the way he fought for his head as he saw the level stretch before him.

He was warmed up--he wanted to run.
But Lawler drew him down in an effort to locate the herd before he started toward it.
Man and horse made a mere blot on the yawning expanse of land that stretched away from them in all directions.