It was a cool morning, and when he had gone a few miles the ground was fairly dear.

By noon he was in more open country, where there were long stretches of grass, and after a short rest he pushed on fast.

Bright sunshine flooded the waste that now stretched back to the south, sprinkled with clumps of bush that showed a shadowy blue in the distance.

Near at hand, the birch and poplar leaves glowed in flecks of vivid lemon among the white stems; but Blake rode hard, his eyes turned steadily on the misty skyline.

It was broken only by clusters of small trees; nothing moved on the wilderness of grass and sand ahead of him.
He felt tired when evening came, but he pressed on to find water before he camped.