They were in the saddle a very few moments after they awoke and started
out, breakfastless. The rain long ago had ceased, and there was only the
solemn silence of the brown hills around them--silence, and a faint,
crinkling sound as if the thirsty soil still drank. It had been a heavy
fall of rain, they could see, for whenever they passed a bare spot where
no grass grew, it was crossed by a thick tracery of the rivulets which
had washed down the slopes during the night.
Soon they reached a little creek whose current, barely knee deep, foamed
up around the shoulders of the horses and set them staggering.
"The Saverack will be hell," said Nash, "and we'd better cut straight
for the ford."
"How long will it take?"
"Add about three hours to the trip."
"Can't do it; remember that little date back in Eldara to-night."
"Then look for yourself and make up your mind for yourself," said Nash
drily, for they topped a hill, and below them saw a mighty yellow flood
pouring down the valley. It went leaping and shouting as if it rejoiced
in some destruction it had worked and was still working, and the muddy
torrent was threaded with many a ridge of white and swirling with
bubbles.
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