back up the bank, where they nibbled at the short tufts of herbage, but in
a manner expressive of weariness. Keith flung himself on the ground, every
muscle of his body aching, his exposed flesh still smarting from the hail
of sand through which they had passed.

He had not the slightest conception as to where they were, except he knew
this must be the Salt Fork. Utterly confused by the maze of shifting
dunes, through whose intricacies they had somehow found passage, the
blackness of the night yielded no clue as to their point of emergence. The
volume of water in the stream alone suggested that in their wanderings
they must have drifted to the eastward, and come out much lower down than
had been originally intended. If so, then they might be almost directly
south of Carson City, and in a section with which he was totally
unacquainted. One thing was, however, certain--they would be compelled to
wait for daylight to ascertain the truth, and decide upon their future
movements. There was another barren, sandy stretch of desolation lying
between this isolated valley and that of the Canadian, and their horses
would never stand to be pushed forward without both rest and food. As to
themselves--they had eaten their last crumb long since, but this was not
the first time both had known starvation.

Keith arose reluctantly, and removed the saddles from the animals,
hobbling them so they could graze at will. Neb was propped up beneath an
out-cropping of the bank, which partly protected him from the wind, a mere
hulk of a shadow. Keith could not tell whether he slept or not, but made
no effort to disturb him. A moment he stared vacantly about into the black
silence, and then lay down, pillowing his head upon a saddle. He found it
impossible to sleep, the chill of the wind causing him to turn and twist,
in vain search after comfort, while unappeased hunger gnawed incessantly.
His eyes ranged about over the dull gloom of the skies until they fell