Tepid, gritty, foul — was it water I 

 had swallowed •? The horse assigned to 

 me, a small, white, benevolent animal 

 named ' Whiskers,' waded in knee 

 deep and did the same. Whiskers was 

 a 'lady's horse,' which, being inter- 

 preted, meant aged eighteen or twenty, 

 with all spirit knocked out by hard 

 work ; a broken down cow pony, in 

 fact, or, in local parlance, a 'skate,' a 

 'goat.' He had lagged considerably 

 behind the rest of the party. 



However, Whiskers did not matter; 

 nothing mattered but the waves on 

 waves of heat that quivered before my 

 eyes. I shut them and began repeat- 

 ing cooling rhymes, such as 'twin 

 peaks snow clad,' 'From Greenland's 

 Icy Mountains,' and the ' Frozen 

 North,' by way of living up to Pro- 

 fessor James' teachings. Whiskers was 



