Word: sand
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...heap up an immense tumulus over the vault; and since no human foot is allowed to tread above an Emperor, the workmen had to be "purified" by a peculiar rite. After this rite they become officially "no longer men, but white winged birds which fly with earth and sand in their beaks" to complete the tumulus...
...because Nassau harbor is "shark-infested" as newspapers said. Medal or no, Mr. Havemeyer, who denied he was a hero, was content. He had had "one last swim." Only at night do sharks frequent Nassau harbor. And when they do come in from the ocean, they are sand sharks; scavengers, not killers. On moonlight nights they may be seen and heard, huge but probably harmless, lurking and feeding near the piles of the town slaughterhouse. Once there was a monster that Nassau called "The Harbor Master." At the buoy where Mr. Havemeyer dived, "shark hunts" are sometimes held. When...
Spurs and six-guns of long-dead badmen are still to be kicked up from the sand and cactus of the Colorado plains. Buffalo skulls and stage-coach axles still bleach and rust in forgotten gulches of the Rocky Mountain foothills. But the West is "civilized," has been for some time, and with it Colorado. The funicular up Pike's Peak is 35 years old and for 21 years there has been a searchlight on the summit. The $2,500,000 State Capitol was finished way back in 1895. Denver still smelts lead for bullets and other useful articles...
Just then the storm broke in full fury, filling the air with sand and dust so that we all but choked, even with scafrs bound around our faces. We halted long enough to pass a rope from one to the other of us so that we should not become separated; then for a while we proceeded in this fashion, but eventually the all grew so thick that we could not see a camel's length before us, and were forced to make the panting Meharis kneel. What a storm that was! The wind scoured our faces, hands, and any other...
...lovely evening we pulled into Nelta, and beheld that wonderful trick of nature which the French call la grande corbeille. It is a little gem of an oasis, set deep down in a ring of enormous sand dunes, with masses of feathery date palms swaying above the cool waters of the spring. With a sigh of relief, we plunged down the slopes into the cool, jasmine-scented air to make our last camp...