Sally gazed at him wildly. "Then--it must have been a man--Barney!--I saw--on the desert!" she cried, disjointedly. "They'll die! Oh no, he wouldn't--" She ran outside to scan the fearful expanse of alkali, with its gathering blizzard of dust. The men, suddenly grown nervous, followed her out of the house. Apparently there was nothing, far or wide, on the desert, save the sweeping clouds of white, like drifting snow. "My God! he wouldn't tackle that!" said Slivers. "I hear some one out in the kitchen now," said Tate. "It must be him." Sally ran to see. It was only the dog. She darted forth once more. "Not there!" she said. "But surely Barney wouldn't--There! There!" Her cry rang out so shrilly that even Slivers started. She was pointing stiffly. The men all stared at the storm of dust. For one brief second the swirling clouds were reft, revealing, far out eastward, in the dead-land of white, a small dark object--the form of a man. One poignant sob was the only sound that Sally made, as she ran toward the stable. "Good Lord! it's him!" said Adams. "Was he heading back this way?" "I think he was," answered Catherwood. "He couldn't--do anything--else," stammered Slivers. For a moment no one spoke. "I reckon I'll just mosey over to the desert," drawled the fidgety man. "I'd hate to have anything go wrong with Barney." "Guess I'll go along myself," said Adams. "Boys!" said Slivers, hoarsely, "I'm going to saddle up and git him back! I didn't mean no harm when I told him wrong. I didn't think he'd go. I'd ride through hell for Barney--or the little Injun, either. You fellers know I didn't mean no harm." He started at once to get his horse. Before he had covered half the distance to the stable, Sally suddenly rode forth, bareback, on a buckskin pony, and heading for the desert, spurred her bronco to a gallop, crying to him wildly as she went. "Sally!--Sally--I'll go!" yelled Slivers. She seemed not to hear, but ran her pony out upon the white expanse, where the wreathing dust seemed to swallow both herself and the animal immediately. Her horse, fleeing swiftly before the wind, carried Sally a mile or two out from the camp before she reined him in. Believing Barney could have come no farther than this, she began to search and to call. At every turn of her head her eyes were blinded by the acrid dust. The stuff choked her breathing; already her throat was dry. Dust and powder and snow-of-alkali came from everywhere. It was blowing up her sleeves. It filtered into and through her clothing. Her ears were quickly coated; her hair was heavy. She turned her head from side to side for a breath. The air was thicker than smoke with dust as heavy as flour. "Barney!" she called, from time to time, but the alkali coated her tongue. On either side she could see for a distance of twenty feet, or less. It seemed far less, in all that terrible drift of white.