The sun came out suddenly, and shone brightly over the dips and swells.
But Ned and Obed looked at each other and laughed. Both were so thickly
plastered with sand and dust that they had little human semblance.
Ned shook himself, and a cloud of dust flew from him, but so much
remained that he could not tell the difference.
"I think we'd better take a drink out of our water bottles," said Obed.
"I'd like mighty well to have a bath, too, but I don't see a bath tub
convenient. Is there any sign of our friends, the enemy, Ned?"
"None," replied Ned, examining the horizon line. "There is absolutely
nothing within view on the plains."
"Don't you fret about 'em. They'll come. They'll spread out and pick up
our trail just as they do every morning."
Obed spoke dispassionately, as if he and Ned were not concerned in it.
His predictions were justified. Before night they saw the Lipans coming
as usual in a close group, now at a distance of about three miles. Ned
could not keep from shuddering. They were as implacable as fate. Night,
the storm and bullets did not stop them. They could not shake them off
in the immense spaces of plain and desert. A kind of horror seized him.
Such tenacity must triumph. Was it possible that Obed and he would fall
victims after all? At least it seemed sure that in the end they would be
overtaken, and Ned began to count the odds in a fight.
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