The sun was casting a dull red glow through the gray haze.  It was blotted out as he looked.  Southward from the horizon ends extended a broad sea of shimmering, glittering sky that contrasted brilliantly to the black, wind-whipped clouds that had gathered in the north.  Fleecy gray wisps, detached from the heavy, spreading mass northward, were scurrying southward, streaking the shimmering brilliance and telling of the force of the wind that drove them.

A wailing note came from the north, a sighing vague with a portent of force; a whisper of unrest, a promise of fury.  Far in the north, its blackness deepening with distance, stretched the menace, arousing awe with its magnitude.

Nature seemed to know what impended, for on the vast level where the storm would have a clear sweep the dried grass, bronzed by the searing autumn sun, was rustling as it bent far southward; the hardy sage bowed reluctantly to the fitful blasts, and the scraggly, ugly yucca resentfully yielded to the unseen force.

A wide, shallow gully ran northwestward from a point near Red King, almost in a straight line toward the herd.  Lawler urged the big horse into the gully and rode hard.  The distance was several miles, but when Red King came to the gully end he flashed out of it like a streak of red flame.  He was drawn down, instantly, however, snorting and pawing impatiently, while Lawler shielded his eyes with his hands and again scanned the country.

He saw the herd; and as he watched it began to move.  There were no men near the cattle.

They started slowly, seemingly reluctant to leave the level.  They moved sullenly, closely massed, their heads lowered, their tails drooping.  The wind, now beginning to carry a vicious note with its whine, drove a heavy dust cloud against them, warning them.  The wind was icy, giving the cattle a foretaste of what was to come.  And mingling with the dust were fine, flinty snow particles that came almost horizontally against their rumps, stinging them, worrying them.  They increased their pace, and soon were running with a swinging, awkward stride, straight toward the wire fence, several miles distant.

If they saw Lawler they gave no sign, for they went lumbering on, snorting and bawling their apprehension.

Lawler was about to start Red King toward them, when he noted movement on the level a little northwestward from the cattle.  Peering intently, he saw two horsemen racing southward, a little distance ahead of the cattle, parallel with them.

At first Lawler was certain the men were Davies and Harris, and he smiled, appreciating their devotion to duty.  But when he saw them race past the cattle, not even halting to head them in the right direction—­which would have been slightly eastward, so that they would enter the valley before reaching the fence—­he frowned, wheeled Red King sharply, and sent him back into the gully from which he had emerged.