It was the sort of day which ministers to human emotion, which stirs the sluggish blood, revives the drooping spirit.

There was a curious, delicate blueness of the sky over which an infinitely more delicate veil of mist was softly drawn.

At many places on the prairie the haymakers were loading the great wagons; here and there a fallow field was burning; yonder a house was building; cattle were being rounded up; and far off, like moving specks, ranchmen were climbing the hills where the wild bronchos were, for a day of the toughest, most thrilling sport which the world knows.
Night fell, and found Orlando making for the trail between what was known as the Company's Ranch and Tralee.

To reach his own ranch, he had to cross it at an angle near the Tralee homestead.

It was dark, with no moon, but the stars were bright.
As he crossed the Tralee trail, he suddenly heard a cry for help.
Between him and where the sound came from was a fire burning.