XXXV BACK TO LITTLE RIVERS

XXXVI AROUND THE WATER-HOLE

XXXVII THE END OF THE WEAVING

XXXVIII THEIR SIDE OF THE PASS




PART I

AN EASY TRAVELLER




I

YOUTH IN SPURS

Here time was as nothing; here sunset and sunrise were as incidents
of an uncalendared, everlasting day; here chaotic grandeur was that
of the earth's crust when it cooled after the last convulsive
movement of genesis.

In all the region about the Galeria Pass the silence of the dry Arizona
air seemed luminous and eternal. Whoever climbed to the crotch of that V,
cut jagged against the sky for distances yet unreckoned by tourist