its own horizon.

"We've taken things easy," said Randolph, who had been that way before,
"and I hope we have enough breath left for our job. There it lies, right in
front of us."

"No favor asked here," declared Cope. He gave a sly, sidewise glance, as if
to ask how the other might stand as to leg-muscles and wind.

"Up we go," said Randolph.




9

_COPE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS_


The adventurer in Duneland hardly knows, as he works his way through one of
the infrequent "blow-outs," whether to thank Nature for her aid or to tax
her with her cruelty. She offers few other means of reaching the water save
for these nicks in the edges of the great cup; yet it is possible enough to
view her as a careless and reckless handmaiden busily devastating the
cosmical china-closet. The "blow-out" is a tragedy, and the cause of
further tragedy. The north winds, in the impetus gathered through a long,
unimpeded flight over three hundred miles of water, ceaselessly try and
test the sandy bulwarks for a slightest opening. The flaw once found, the
work of devastation and desolation begins; and, once begun, it continues
without cessation. Every hurricane cuts a wider and deeper gash, fills the