words spoken, but black and white hands clasped silently, and then Neb
crept back into the saddle, shivering in his wet clothes as the cool night
wind swept against him. Keeping close in toward shore, yet far enough out
so that the water would hide their trail, the fugitives toiled steadily up
stream, guided only by the black outline of the low bank upon their left.




Chapter VII

In the Sand Desert



Suddenly Keith halted, bringing his pony's head sharply about, so that the
two faced one another. The wind was rising, hurling clouds of sand into
their eyes, and the plainsman held one hand before his face.

"There's no need of keeping up a water trail any longer," he said quietly.
"By all the signs we're in for a sand storm by daylight, and that will
cover our tracks so the devil himself couldn't follow them. Got a water
bag on your saddle?"

"I reck'n dis am one, sah."

Keith felt of the object Neb held forth.

"Yes, and a big one, too; fill it and strap it on tight; we've got a long,
dry ride ahead."