Another mile of buffeting this increasing gale so exhausted Carley and
wrought upon her nerves that she became nearly panic-stricken. It grew
harder and harder not to turn back. At last she was about to give up when
right at hand through the flying dust she espied the cabin. Riding behind
it, she dismounted and tied the mustang to a post. Then she ran around to
the door and entered.
What a welcome refuge! She was all right now, and when Glenn came along she
would have added to her already considerable list another feat for which he
would commend her. With aid of her handkerchief, and the tears that flowed
so copiously, Carley presently freed her eyes of the blinding dust. But
when she essayed to remove it from her face she discovered she would need a
towel and soap and hot water.
The cabin appeared to be enveloped in a soft, swishing, hollow sound. It
seeped and rustled. Then the sound lulled, only to rise again. Carley went
to the door, relieved and glad to see that the duststorm was blowing by.
The great sky-high pall of yellow had moved on to the north. Puffs of dust
were whipping along the road, but no longer in one continuous cloud. In the
west, low down the sun was sinking, a dull magenta in hue, quite weird and
remarkable.
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