Citation de giati
The horizon danced and was lost in a haze of heat, the buzzards were the only spot of movement and the sun baked down upon the desert and the sand threw back the heat in his face like the top of a red hot stove. Teir faces grew dusty, their throats parched, and riding on and on, he looked back upon his trail and saw the distant rising dust and chuckled. "Let 'em come!" he whispered. "Let'em come!"
