However that may be, on the desert it is the whole world, and all of life.
Two days passed by, all hot sand and wind and glare.

The Mormons sang no more at evening; Jones was silent; the dogs were limp as rags.
At Moncaupie Wash we ran into a sandstorm.

The horses turned their backs to it, and bowed their heads patiently.

The Mormons covered themselves.

I wrapped a blanket round my head and hid behind a sage bush.