172 THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 



succulent mountain trout, or his ear greedily to 

 mountain lion and bear stories, or to game big or 

 little in the varied fastnesses of the New Mexican 

 mountains, north and south; rather is it in the 

 Fall, after the summer rains, when he sits before a 

 roaring fire of cedar or cottonwood, and cleans and 

 oils the weapons that are his. 



And while yet on the overland train it may be 

 mentioned that the ranching district through which 

 we were passing whilst the loud voiced lecturer 

 held forth — she or another, what matters it ? — taps 

 by means of pumping plants the underflow of one 

 of those Lost Rivers of New Mexico — a fair sample 

 of the weird streams for which the State is no- 

 torious. They are always on tap, and are liable to 

 come to the surface again anywhere when so dis- 

 posed, or else they form underground lakes in 

 places where the mountains have created suitable 

 basins for their reception. 



Not only on trains but in the sanctity of our 

 homes do we receive an immense amount of gratui- 

 tous information concerning our own far country. 

 Gratuitous it can afford to be for as information, 

 whether in the form of Wild West stories written 

 by some Pullman observer or hurried "chaser" 

 through our midst, or by optimistically accurate 

 newspaper or magazine writers of sorts, it does not 

 help us — much. That is, we can "make out," gener- 

 ally speaking, by using our own eyes and ears dur- 

 ing a period of years. A decade or so ago a Boston 

 newspaper solemnly informed us that the Bad Man 

 and the cowboy, cattle and sheep feuds, were ex- 



