A strange calm came over Carolyn June. So this was the end? She was to die alone, horribly, in the treacherous sands of the Cimarron? Surely it could not be--God would not let her die! She was so young! She had just begun to live--She thought of Hartville, her father, the old friends. How far away they seemed! How queer it was--she could not image in her mind any of the familiar scenes, the face of her father or any of the friends she had known so well! She tried to think of her Uncle Josiah, Ophelia, Skinny Rawlins--poor fellow, how susceptible was his big, innocent, boyish heart! She called each one up in a mental effort to remember how they had looked, the sound of their voices--they were only names--dim shadowy names! There was nothing in the whole world but Old Blue--herself--and the sand--the sand--an eternity of sand pulling, dragging, sucking her down! She closed her eyes tightly, thinking to shut out the impression of utter loneliness. The face of the Ramblin' Kid flashed into her mind! She could see him! She saw him lying under the shed, as he had looked that morning, his head resting on the saddle, his eyes gazing steadily into her own; she saw him again as he had looked when she stung him with her harsh words at the gate. She seemed to see the agonized humility in his expression and hear the low tenseness of his voice as he repeated aloud the words she had used--"An ign'rant, savage, stupid brute!" She laughed almost hysterically. "Why can I see him--just him--and not the others? Has he come to--to--haunt me?" she finished with a gasp.