Beneath the gray, out-spreading curtain of light he saw before them the dingy red of a small section-house, with a huge, rusty water-tank outlined against the sky.

Lower down a little section of vividly green grass seemed fenced about by a narrow stream of running water.

At first glimpse he deemed it a mirage, and rubbed his half-blinded eyes to make sure.

Then he knew they had ridden straight through the night, and that this was Daggett Station.
He helped her down from the saddle without a word, without the exchange of a glance, steadying her gently as she stood trembling, and finally half carried her in his arms across the little platform to the rest of a rude bench.

The horses he turned loose to seek their own pasturage and water, and then came back, uncertain, filled with vague misgiving, to where she sat, staring wide-eyed out into the desolation of sand.
He brought with him a tin cup filled with water, and placed it in her hand.