A hundred times, or a thousand, he would look in what he thought was an easterly direction, hoping to see the grayness that meant dawn. No, Call said. Good lord, he said. Already he felt a yearning for woman's talk, and he had only been gone from Dallas a little more than a day.
In the clean night, with the huge moon, he could see far across the bedded herd, see the bright wick of the campfire, blocked occasionally when someone led a horse across in front of it. Why, we're half out already, Augustus said. He couldn't imagine why Gus would bother with buffalo. She had stopped talking, and though she wanted to talk, the words wouldn't come.
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