stead of less convincing; a shallow silver lake that spread
for many miles, a little misty in the sunlight. Here and
there one saw reflected the image of a heifer, turned loose
to live upon the sparse sand-grass. They were magnified
to a preposterous height and looked like mammoths, pre-
historic beasts standing solitary in the waters that for
many thousands of years actually washed over that desert;
--the mirage itself may be the ghost of that long-vanished

sea. Beyond the phantom lake lay the line of many-colored
hills; rich, sun-baked yellow, glowing turquoise, lavender,
purple; all the open, pastel colors of the desert.

After the first five miles the road grew heavier. The
horses had to slow down to a walk and the wheels sank
deep into the sand, which now lay in long ridges, like waves,
where the last high wind had drifted it. Two hours brought
the party to Pedro's Cup, named for a Mexican desperado
who had once held the sheriff at bay there. The Cup was a
great amphitheater, cut out in the hills, its floor smooth
and packed hard, dotted with sagebrush and greasewood.

On either side of the Cup the yellow hills ran north and
south, with winding ravines between them, full of soft sand
which drained down from the crumbling banks. On the
surface of this fluid sand, one could find bits of brilliant
stone, crystals and agates and onyx, and petrified wood as
red as blood. Dried toads and lizards were to be found