Impressions of the Desert 195 
mind is more sensitive, and like fresh wax, 
takes a clearer imprint. My route lay down 
Castle Creek and thence along the Agua 
Fria River, a considerable stream, which had 
to be forded at some half-dozen points. By 
that early morning light, half starlight, half 
daylight, earth appears less earthy and is 
invested with a transcendent quality, while 
we see it again for a fleeting moment with the 
eyes of youth—the undimmed, unwearied, 
untramelled eyes of youth. The mind is 
rejuvenated, refreshed, renewed, only to grow 
old again, it may be, before the day is done. 
But life is good in those early hours and yields 
to the solitary horseman in the mountains 
a sense of freedom not readily experienced in 
this world. 
It was some time before the light of the 
stars was replaced by daylight. The first 
bird-note was the call of Gambel’s partridge. 
On the edge of a cliff a Western horned owl 
sat facing the east and saluted the advent of 
day with weird savage notes. Presently the 
thrasher and the cardinal began to sing and 
it was some time before the rising sun gilded 
the tops of the lava peaks. How soft is that 
early light which conveys no impression of 
heat whatever, as if those first sunbeams were 
