... gray dust-cloud took on a shade of blue in places where the smoke from the fires cut through; a new tang smote the nostrils: the rank odor of burning hair and searing hides; a new note crept into the clamoring roar: the low-keyed blat of pain ... — The Lure of the Dim Trails • by (AKA B. M. Sinclair) B. M. Bower
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