In a few moments, he had crossed Broderson Creek and had entered upon the Home ranch of Los Muertos.

Ahead of him, but so far off that the greater portion of its bulk was below the horizon, he could see the Derricks' home, a roof or two between the dull green of cypress and eucalyptus.

Nothing else was in sight.

The brown earth, smooth, unbroken, was as a limitless, mud-coloured ocean.

The silence was profound.
Then, at length, Annixter's searching eye made out a blur on the horizon to the northward; the blur concentrated itself to a speck; the speck grew by steady degrees to a spot, slowly moving, a note of dull colour, barely darker than the land, but an inky black silhouette as it topped a low rise of ground and stood for a moment outlined against the pale blue of the sky.