That column of dust miles long was at the same distance in front, continuing in its slow course for the river, but the foes in contact were having plenty of dust showers of their own.

Dick's throat and mouth burned with the dust and heat of the pitiless August day, and his bones ached with the tension and the long hours in the saddle.

But his spirit was high.

They were holding off the Southern cavalry and he felt that they would continue to do so.
About noon he ate more cold food, and then rode on, while the sun blazed and blazed and the dust whirled in clouds like the "dust devils" of the desert, continually spitting forth bullets instead of sand.

Late in the afternoon he heard the sound of many trumpets, and saw the Southern cavalry getting together in a great mass.