Jake had begun to use keen eyes, and there was no telling what he might do.
The morning was cool, sweet, fresh, with a red sun presaging a hot day.
The big car hummed like a droning bee and seemed to cover the miles as if by magic.

Lenore sat with face uncovered, enjoying the breeze and the endless colorful scene flashing by, listening to Jake's amusing comments, and trying to keep back thought of what discovery might await her before the end of this day.
Once across the Copper River, they struck the gradual ascent, and here the temperature began to mount and the dust to fly.

Lenore drew her veils close and, leaning comfortably back, she resigned herself to wait and to endure.
By the flight of a crow it was about a hundred miles from Anderson's ranch to Palmer; but by the round-about roads necessary to take the distance was a great deal longer.

Lenore was well aware when they got up on the desert, and the time came when she thought she would suffocate.
There appeared to be intolerable hours in which no one spoke and only the hum and creak of the machine throbbed in her ears.

She could not see through her veils and did not part them until a stop was made at Palmer.
Her father got out, sputtering and gasping, shaking the dust in clouds from his long linen coat.