into Arizona and Mexico. That long slope of gray is the head of
the San Bernardino Valley. Straight across you see the black
Chiricahua Mountains, and away down to the south the Guadalupe
Mountains. That awful red gulf between is the desert, and far,
far beyond the dim, blue peaks are the Sierra Madres in Mexico."

Madeline listened and gazed with straining eyes, and wondered if
this was only a stupendous mirage, and why it seemed so different
from all else that she had seen, and so endless, so baffling, so
grand.

"It'll sure take you a little while to get used to being up high
and seeing so much," explained Florence. "That's the secret--
we're up high, the air is clear, and there's the whole bare world
beneath us. Don't it somehow rest you? Well, it will. Now see
those specks in the valley. They are stations, little towns.
The railroad goes down that way. The largest speck is
Chiricahua. It's over forty miles by trail. Here round to the
north you can see Don Carlos's rancho. He's fifteen miles off,
and I sure wish he were a thousand. That little green square
about half-way between here and Don Carlos--that's Al's ranch.
Just below us are the adobe houses of the Mexicans. There's a
church, too. And here to the left you see Stillwell's corrals
and bunk-houses and his stables all falling to pieces. The ranch
has gone to ruin. All the ranches are going to ruin. But most
of them are little one-horse affairs. And here--see that cloud of
dust down in the valley? It's the round-up. The boys are there,
and the cattle. Wait, I'll get the glasses."

By their aid Madeline saw in the foreground a great, dense herd