"Here's luck to the venture!" But though Burke drank with him, his face did not relax.
A little later they left the hotel together.

A strong wind was still blowing, sprinkling the dust of the desert everywhere.

They pushed their way against it, striding with heads down through the swirling darkness of the night.
Hoffstein's bar was in a low quarter of the town and close to the mine-workings.

A place of hideous desolation at all times, the whirling sandstorm made of it almost an inferno.

They scarcely spoke as they went along, grimly enduring the sand-fiend that stung and blinded but could not bar their progress.
As they came within sight of Hoffstein's tavern, they encountered groups of men coming away, but no one was disposed to loiter on that night of turmoil; no one accosted them as they approached.
The place was built of corrugated iron, and they heard the sand whipping against it as they drew near.