JIMVILLE 



up from superseded routes the West over, 

 rocking, lumbering, wide vehicles far gone 

 in the odor of romance, coaches that Vas- 

 quez has held up, from whose high seats 

 express messengers have shot or been shot 

 as their luck held. This is to comfort you 

 when the driver stops to rummage for wire 

 to mend a failing bolt. There is enough 

 of this sort of thing to quite prepare you 

 to believe what the driver insists, namely, 

 that all that country and Jimville are held 

 together by wire. 



First on the way to Jimville you cross a 

 lonely open land, with a hint in the sky of 

 things going on under the horizon, a pal- 

 pitant, white, hot land where the wheels 

 gird at the sand and the midday heaven 

 shuts it in breathlessly like a tent. So in 

 still weather ; and when the wind blows 

 there is occupation enough for the passen- 

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