Far in the north, its blackness deepening with distance, stretched the menace, arousing awe with its magnitude.
Nature seemed to know what impended, for on the vast level where the storm would have a clear sweep the dried grass, bronzed by the searing autumn sun, was rustling as it bent far southward; the hardy sage bowed reluctantly to the fitful blasts, and the scraggly, ugly yucca resentfully yielded to the unseen force.
A wide, shallow gully ran northwestward from a point near Red King, almost in a straight line toward the herd.

Lawler urged the big horse into the gully and rode hard.

The distance was several miles, but when Red King came to the gully end he flashed out of it like a streak of red flame.

He was drawn down, instantly, however, snorting and pawing impatiently, while Lawler shielded his eyes with his hands and again scanned the country.
He saw the herd; and as he watched it began to move.

There were no men near the cattle.
They started slowly, seemingly reluctant to leave the level.