THE MIRROR OF LIES 33 



The oxen, after feeding a little, wandered 

 about attempting from time to time to escape 

 homeward. They dreaded this plunge into the 

 waterless waste. They instinctively antici- 

 pated the heavy sufferings to which they were 

 doomed. So far they were not painfully 

 thirsty ; cattle bred on the borders of the desert 

 in their search for pasturage often go volun- 

 tarily waterless for forty-eight hours at a 

 stretch. Even in summer they do not feel this 

 much of an inconvenience. Late in the after- 

 noon the team was driven up and once more 

 inspanned. Again we pressed forward on our 

 course. 



The heat was still intense ; we knew it would 

 last until sundown. The primrose-tinted carpet 

 of the desert seemed to have turned to flame. 

 Before us some mocking genius of the sky 

 painted mirage-pictures. Blue seas gemmed 

 with verdant islands, rocky beaches from which 

 sprang groves of lofty trees, mountain ranges 

 clothed with boskage and suggesting cool 

 streams in their valleys enticed us onward. 

 Now and then the pictures grew distorted; 

 occasionally they became inverted in the 

 twinkling of an eye. Then the mountains 

 stood poised upon their summits and the trees 

 hung downward. Perhaps the operator of the 



