THE LAND OF LITTLE RAIN 



EAST away from the Sierras, south 

 from Panamint and Amargosa, east 

 and south many an uncounted mile, is the 

 Country of Lost Borders. 



Ute, Paiute, Mojave, and Shoshone in- 

 habit its frontiers, and as far into the heart 

 of it as a man dare go. Not the law, but 

 the land sets the limit. Desert is the name 

 it wears upon the maps, but the Indian's 



is the better word. Desert is a loose term 



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to indicate land that supports no man; 

 whether the land can be bitted and broken 

 to that purpose is not proven. Void of life 

 it never is, however dry the air and villain- 

 ous the soil. 



This is the nature of that country. 

 There are hills, rounded, blunt, burned, 

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