.

In the Sand Desert.
Suddenly Keith halted, bringing his pony's head sharply about, so that the two faced one another.

The wind was rising, hurling clouds of sand into their eyes, and the plainsman held one hand before his face.
"There's no need of keeping up a water trail any longer," he said quietly.

"By all the signs we're in for a sand storm by daylight, and that will cover our tracks so the devil himself couldn't follow them.
Got a water bag on your saddle ?" "I reck'n dis am one, sah." Keith felt of the object Neb held forth.
"Yes, and a big one, too; fill it and strap it on tight; we've got a long, dry ride ahead." "Whar' yo' propose goin', Massa Jack ?" "To the 'Bar X' on the Canadian.

I've worked with that outfit.