Now, after silent years, he was going to look into those accusing eyes again.

He pressed his hand against his forehead, his body trembled; then he braced himself for the interview, and the shuddering coward in him shrank back.
He had become wearied of the endless vista of desert, rock, and plain.
Yet now it strangely appealed to him in its beauty.

About him were those uneven, rolling hills, like a vast storm-lashed sea, the brown crests devoid of life, yet with depressions between sufficient to conceal multitudes.

Once he looked down through a wide cleft in the face of the bluff, and could perceive the head of the slowly advancing pack-train far below.

Away to the left something was moving, a dim, shapeless dash of color.