When Papa brought the dog home he was covered with lice, there were sores on his body, some of his beautiful coat had fallen away and his feet were sore from traveling so far. He had lost a lot of weight, was poor and half starved.
We believe that some Gypsies stole him and tied him to their wagon. Gypsies came by our farm now and then, and both we and our neighbors had a low opinion of them. Theirs were the only poor, skinny dogs we ever saw.
Anyway, we were mighty glad to have Old Scotch back with us and we soon had him as fat and sassy and as good looking as ever. And he was right there with us all the rest of his life.
Now that we had our dog back home, it was time again to settle down to facing the realities of dry weather and sandstorms. One day there came a sandstorm from the southwest, as usual. We had many sandstorms but this one was not just one of the ordinary ones. This was an extra special—the granddaddy of all sandstorms. We kids were in school at Ballard and it got so dark in the schoolhouse we couldn't see to read. We could only sit and talk or play games. You could clean the dust from the top of your desk, and two minutes later write your name with your finger in the new dust.
When school was out at four o'clock in the afternoon, it was so dark the teacher was afraid some of us couldn't make it home. She held us there until our parents came for us. The wind was still very strong. Everyone drove with their lights on, not to see the road but to see each other.
We couldn't see the sunset—couldn't even see where the sun was supposed to set. We didn't believe there were any clouds, only sand and dust. But we really couldn't tell. Anyway, dark came way before its time.
At suppertime that night there was so much sand and dust in the air in our kitchen that we ate supper with the tablecloth still spread over the table, over the food, and over the plates we were eating out of. We held the cloth up with one hand to shelter our plates while we reached under the cloth with the other hand to bring food from our plates to our mouths.
During the afternoon, sand blinded the rabbits and they couldn't find their way to their burrows. Jackrabbits don't usually burrow, but cottontails always do when they need shelter. This time it was different. They needed shelter but couldn't find it. This time they all sat behind bushes with their tails turned to the wind and sand.
For hours the sand didn't let up. About ten o'clock that night the wind shifted around to the west, a little while later, to the north, and then to the northeast. It still didn't slow up. Each time it changed directions, it stirred up more sand.
As the wind shifted, so did the rabbits. They moved around their respective bushes, keeping behind the bushes from the sand, and with their tails still windward.