The great bird was either wild with rage or under the impression that he was being hunted.

The speed took my breath away; the motion make me sick.

He must have done the fifteen miles between the head of the pass and the beginning of the desert in little more than as many minutes.

Then, the ground being covered with sand and comparatively level, the nandu slacked his speed somewhat, though he still went at a great pace.
The desert was a vast expanse of white sand, the glare of which, in the bright sunshine, almost blinded me, interspersed with stretches of rock, swept bare by the wind, and loose stones.
Instead of turning to the right or left, that is to say, to the north or south, as I hoped and expected he would, the man-killer ran straight on toward the sea.

As for the distance of the coast from that part of the Cordillera I had no definite idea--perhaps thirty miles, perhaps fifty, perhaps more.