In places, stunted poplar bluffs cut against the sky, but, for the most part, there was only a rolling waste of dingy grass.

The trail was heavy, the wheels sank deep in sand as they climbed a low rise, and, to make things worse, the rounded, white-edged clouds which had scudded across the sky since morning were gathering in threatening masses.

This had happened every afternoon, but now and then the cloud ranks had broken, to pour out a furious deluge and a blaze of lightning.

Harding anxiously studied the sky.
"I guess we're up against another thunderstorm," he said.

"My opinion of the mid-continental climate is singularly mean, but I'd put this strip of Canada near the limit.