That's where the storm starts, and when it gets out on the Barren, without a tree or a rock to break its way for five hundred miles--" He told of the twisting air-currents there and how the storm-clouds sometimes swept so low that they almost smothered one.

For a few moments he did not look at Celie or he would have seen something in her face which could not have been because of what he was telling her, and which she could at best only partly understand.

She had fixed her eyes on the little black dot.

THAT was the cabin.

For the first time the map told her where she was, and possibly how she had arrived there.
Straight down to that dot from the blue space of the ocean far to the north the map-makers had trailed the course of the Coppermine River.
Celie gave an excited little cry and caught Philip's arm, stopping him short in his explanation of the human wailings in the storm.