"I say," he began presently, "how much further is it to this prospect
hole of yours, if, indeed, you have a prospect as you represented to me
a week ago?" His tone was fretful, peevish, complaining. One would
readily have diagnosed the seat of his trouble. He had come prepared to
ride--and he had been forced to walk.

The young man frowned. He seemed on the point of swearing, but
appearing to think better of it, he replied banteringly, "_Por ahi.
Por ahi._"

"What in blazes does that mean?"

"Oh, I was just talking the language of the country--a language, by
the way, toward which you seem most indifferently inclined. '_Por
ahi_' means 'a considerable way,' 'a right smart piece, I reckon,'
and conveys about the same relative amount of definite information as
_manana._ Never having measured the distance to my prospect, I
have tried for the past two days to give you an approximate idea. But
in this country you must know that distance is a deceptive, 'find X'
sort of proposition--so please refrain from asking me that same
question every two miles. If the water holds out we'll get there; and
when we get there we'll find more water, and then you may shave three
times a day if you feel so inclined, I'm sorry you have a blister on
your off heel, and I sympathize with you because of your prickly-heat.
But it's all in the day's work and you'll survive. In the meantime,
however, I suggest that you compose your restless New England soul in
patience, old man, and enjoy with our uncommunicative Cahuilla friend
and myself the glories of a sunrise on the Colorado desert."