OVER THE MOGOLLON MESA 83 



beyond it brought us into a parched dry dis- 

 trict. We passed Necessity Brook some miles 

 before halting for the night, and when we did 

 halt finally could find only enough thick, red 

 muddy water in the hollow of a stone to make 

 our tea. There was none for the horses. 



The ranchman had advised us to take a new 

 freighters' road to Winslow. He assured us 

 it was well watered and we decided to profit 

 by his advice, though John knew the old road 

 well and not the new one and had some hesi- 

 tancy about riding untried trails. 



We had passed from pines to pinons and 

 stunted cedars, and finally into a treeless, sandy 

 desert supporting no other growth than sage 

 brush and greasewood, and inhabited only by 

 lizards, chameleons, rattlesnakes, and an occa- 

 sional rabbit. One old rattler buzzed his warn- 

 ing close to the trail and we dismounted and 

 killed him. John shot a cottontail for our din- 

 ner, dressed it, and tied it to the top of Billy's 

 pack, where, under the terrific heat of the sun, 

 it became jerked rabbit within two hours. 



Mile after mile we traveled, and drier and 

 drier, if possible, grew the country. Even rab- 

 bits were no longer to be seen. Dust filled our 

 nostrils and our mouths were parched and filled 

 with grit. The horses had drunk nothing since 



