.

JUST ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER.
A gray clarity of the air told that daylight was near.

The skyline retreated, the hills came out of the duskiness like a photograph in the developer tray.

Irish dipped down the steep slope into Antelope Coulee, cursing the sprinkle of new shacks that stood stark in the dawn on every ridge and every hilltop, look where one might.

He loped along the winding trail through the coulee's bottom and climbed the hill beyond.
At the top he glanced across the more level upland to the east and his eyes lightened.