Once the negro's horse dropped, and had to be lashed to its feet again; once Keith's pony stumbled and fell on him, hurling him face down into the sand, and he would have died there, lacking sufficient strength to lift the dead weight, but for Neb's assistance.

As it was he went staggering blindly forward, bruised, and faint from hunger and fatigue.

Neither man spoke; they had no breath nor energy left to waste; every ounce of strength needed to be conserved for the battle against nature.

They were fighting for life; fighting grimly, almost hopelessly, and alone.
About them night finally closed in, black and starless, yet fortunately with a gradual dying away of the storm.

For an hour past they had been struggling on, doubting their direction, wondering dully if they were not lost and merely drifting about in a circle.