Poindexter had told her it was four miles to the shanty; she might walk there.

Why had she given her word that she would remain at the rancho until he returned?
The long day crept monotonously away, and she welcomed the night which shut out the dreary prospect.

But it brought no cessation of the harassing wind without, nor surcease of the nervous irritation its perpetual and even activity wrought upon her.

It haunted her pillow even in her exhausted sleep, and seemed to impatiently beckon her to rise and follow it.

It brought her feverish dreams of her husband, footsore and weary, staggering forward under its pitiless lash and clamorous outcry; she would have gone to his assistance, but when she reached his side and held out her arms to him it hurried her past with merciless power, and, bearing her away, left him hopelessly behind.