had fallen asleep again; his old superstition of securing her safety
first being still uppermost. He took off his jacket to cover her
shoulders, and rearranged her nest. Then he glanced again at the coming
train. But for some unaccountable reason it had changed its direction,
and instead of following the track that should have brought it to his
side it had turned off to the left! In ten minutes it would pass abreast
of him a mile and a half away! If he woke Susy now, he knew she would be
helpless in her terror, and he could not carry her half that distance.
He might rush to the train himself and return with help, but he would
never leave her alone--in the darkness. Never! If she woke she would die
of fright, perhaps, or wander blindly and aimlessly away. No! The train
would pass and with it that hope of rescue. Something was in his throat,
but he gulped it down and was quiet again albeit he shivered in the
night wind.

The train was nearly abreast of him now. He ran out of the tall grass,
waving his straw hat above his head in the faint hope of attracting
attention. But he did not go far, for he found to his alarm that when
he turned back again the clump of mesquite was scarcely distinguishable
from the rest of the plain. This settled all question of his going. Even
if he reached the train and returned with some one, how would he ever
find her again in this desolate expanse?

He watched the train slowly pass--still mechanically, almost hopelessly,
waving his hat as he ran up and down before the mesquite, as if he were
waving a last farewell to his departing hope. Suddenly it appeared to
him that three of the outriders who were preceding the first wagon had
changed their shape. They were no longer sharp, oblong, black blocks
against the horizon but had become at first blurred and indistinct,
then taller and narrower, until at last they stood out like exclamation