[Keith of the Border by Randall Parrish]@TWC D-Link bookKeith of the Border CHAPTER VII 3/12
To the eye mile after mile appeared exactly alike, with nothing whatever to distinguish either distance or direction--the same drifting ridges of sand stretching forth in every direction, no summit higher than another, no semblance of green shrubbery, or silver sheen of running water anywhere to break the dull monotony--a vast sandy plain, devoid of life, extending to the horizon, overhung by a barren sky. They had covered ten miles of it by daybreak, their ponies travelling heavily, fetlock deep, but could advance no further.
With the first tint of rose in the east the brooding storm burst upon them in wild desert fury, the fierce wind buffeting them back, lashing their faces with sharp grit until they were unable to bear the pain.
The flying sand smote them in clouds, driven with the speed of bullets.
In vain they lay flat, urging their ponies forward; the beasts, maddened and blinded by the merciless lashing of the sand, refused to face the storm.
Keith, all sense of direction long since lost, rolled wearily from the saddle, burrowed under the partial shelter of a sand dune, and called upon Neb to follow him.
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