From the pointing Joshua tree it had seemed a peak, but contours are never so deceptive as in the high, broken barrens of Nevada.
He looked down into the gulch where Barney was holed up with their outfit.

He could scarcely distinguish the place, it had dwindled so with the distance.

He had small hope of seeing Barney.

After that last leaden bee had buzzed through his hat crown, you would have to dig faster than Barney if you wanted a look at him.

Casey grinned when he thought of it.
When he had gotten his breath and had scraped some loose dirt out of his shirt collar, Casey crouched down behind a juniper and examined his surroundings carefully, his pale, straight-lidded eyes moving slowly as the white, pointing finger of a searchlight while he took in every small detail within view.