Clarence Edward Mulford, Hopalong Cassidy
“ No living thing moves across the heat-cursed sand, but here is a tangled mass of sand and clay and greasewood twigs, in the heart of which mice sleep and wait for night, and over there is a hillock sheltering lizards. Stay! Under that greasewood bush a foolish gray wolf is waiting for night—but he has little to fear, for he can cover forty miles between dark and dawn, and his instinct is infallible; no wandering trail will mark his [382] passing, but one as straight as the flight of a bullet. The shadows shrink close to the stems of the plants and the thin air dances with heat. ”
