It was about eight o'clock, but the sun was hot.

The breeze was not so fresh as usual, and a bank of dark clouds rolled up above the prairie's edge.

They looked solid and their rounded masses shone an oily black, and she wondered whether they promised one of the thunder-storms that often broke upon the plains on summer afternoons.

She would have welcomed the savage downpour, even if it had spoiled her clothes.
Sadie was getting anxious about the crop.

Its failure would mean a serious loss, and she hated to see labor and money wasted; but this was not all.