The night was now
peaceful and there was no noise, save for the warm wind that blew out of
the south with a gentle sighing sound almost like the note of music.
Trickles of water from the snow, already melting, ran down the crests.
Lighter and lighter grew the sky. The moon seemed to Ned to be poised
directly overhead, and close by. New stars were springing out as the
last clouds floated away.
Ned sought shelter, warmth and a place in which to sleep, and to secure
these three he felt that he must seek timber. The scouts whom he had
seen were probably the only Mexicans north of the Rio Grande, and, as he
believed, there was not one chance in a thousand of meeting such enemies
again. If he should be so lucky as to find shelter he would sleep there
without fear.
He rode almost due north for more than two hours, seeing patches of
chaparral on both right and left. But, grown fastidious now and not
thinking them sufficient for his purpose, he continued his northern
course. Old Jack's feet made a deep sighing sound as they sank in the
snow, and now there was water everywhere as that soft but conquering
south wind blew steadily over the plain.
When he saw a growth of timber rising high and dark upon a swell he
believed that he had found his place, and he urged his horse to renewed
speed.
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