The solemn loneliness of it--the dark, silently flowing river, the dun sky, the wide, white expanse of plain, the mad violence of the storm beating against him--brought to him a feeling of helplessness.

He was a mere atom, struggling alone against Nature's wild mood.

Then the feeling clutched him that he was not alone; that from somewhere amid those barren wastes hostile eyes watched, skulking murderers sought his life.

Yet there was no sign of any presence.

He could not stand there and die, nor permit Carroll to freeze in his saddle.