Her mother had called
her.
"About twelve," whispered Pete. "Tell your ole man I'll bush out here.
It's a heap cooler."
She nodded and left him. Pete heard Flores speak to her gruffly.
"Somebody ought to put that ole side-of bacon in the well,"
soliloquized Pete. "I could stand for the ole lady, all right, and
Boca sure is a lily . . . but I was forgettin' I got to ride to
Showdown to-night."
CHAPTER XXIII
THE DEVIL-WIND
As Pete lay planning his departure--he wondered if Boca would think to
find him a canteen and food for his long ride--the stars, hitherto
clear-edged and brilliant, became blurred as though an almost invisible
mist had drifted between them and the earth. He rubbed his eyes. Yes,
there was no mistake about it. He was wide awake, and the sky was
changing. That which had seemed a mist now appeared more like a fine
dust, that swept across the heavens and dimmed the desert sky. It
occurred to him that he was at the bottom of a fairly deep canon and
that that impalpable dust meant wind, A little later he heard it,--at
first a faint, far-away sound like the whisper of many voices; then a
soft, steady hiss as when wind-driven sand runs over sand.
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