The two troopers swore grimly, but the Sergeant and scout rode in silence, bent low over their pommels, eyes strained into the mist ahead.

It was not yet dark when they rode in between the first sand-dunes, and Wasson, pulling his horse up short, checked the others with uplifted hand.
"Thar 'll be a camp here soon," he said, swinging down from the saddle, and studying the ground.

"The wind has 'bout blotted it all out, but you kin see yere back o' this ridge whar they turned in, an' they was walkin' their horses.

Gittin' pretty tired, I reckon.

We might as well stop yere too, Sergeant, an' eat some cold grub.