THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 205 



the car a chance to breathe ; for it has been a long 

 pull and a strong pull. Here we sit, both of us con- 

 tent to revel in the beauty of the land we love, to 

 watch the changeful mountains, sometimes talking, 

 more often silent, listening to the murmur of the 

 scarcely perceptible wind in the tall grass of these 

 wide and solitary places. 



At length the spirit of adventure starts to swell 

 within my breast. 



"How far is it to the home ranch?" I inquire. 



"About seventeen miles further." 



"Well, let's go on! Jump out and open the gate 

 and I'll drive through." 



This feat accomplished and my chauffeur once 

 more at the wheel his spirit too begins to rise. 



"I tell you what we'll do — we'll go around the 

 mountain instead !" — the mountain, being the huge 

 "tumble of rocks" yclept the Dona Ana thrown up 

 by volcanic action from the Valley beneath and the 

 "bald prairie" above — "It's a long way round 

 and I don't remember the trail very well but will 

 vou take chances?" 



Would I! 



"Well then." pointing to an interminable line of 

 telephone poles walking off into the unseen, "We 

 must go on five or six miles to the first spring and 

 ask the cowboy there which road to follow. It must 

 be one of these trails to the west and we shall be 

 obliged to come back on our tracks." 



And while we fly upon our way, opening more 

 gates and meeting the ranch manager driving his 

 family to town, R. explains that the so-called 



