They rode like men gone mad, they fled,
All day and many days they ran,
And in the rear a gray old man
Kept watch, and ever turn'd his head,
Half eager and half angry, back
Along their dusty desert track.
And one look'd back, but no man spoke,
They rode, they swallow'd up the plain;
The sun sank low, he look'd again,
With lifted hand and shaded eyes.