fierce looking creatures in their war-paint and with their spears, which
they do not carry unless they expect trouble. That was the last time I
saw those Indians on that trip.

We had no other excitement on our way to Fort Lyons, unless the
encounter with the buffalo herds could be so called. A large herd of
buffalo were grazing on the plains and was not an unusual sight for the
drivers and me. However, when we came in sight of them one passenger
cried out, "Stop the coach, stop the coach; see, there are a thousand
buffalo standing belly deep in the lake." "Oh," I said, "you do not see
any water--that isn't a lake." "What?" one said, "do our eyes really
deceive us out here on these infernal plains? If it is not water and a
lake those buffalo are standing in, what in the name of sense is it?" I
told them that what they saw was nothing more than merely buffalo at a
distance on the plain; that what they saw that resembled water was
simply an optical illusion, called the "mirage." Webster describes the
word as follows: "An optical illusion arising from an unequal refraction
in the lower strata of the atmosphere and causing remote objects to be
seen double, as if reflected in a mirror, or to appear as if suspended
in the air. It is frequently seen in the deserts, presenting the
appearance of water. The Fata Morgana and Looming are species of
mirage." The mirage is one of the most beautiful scenes I ever beheld
and can only be seen on the plains or in deserts in its complete beauty.
It has to be seen to be appreciated. It makes a buffalo look like it had
two tails. Everything looks double.

We had not much sooner spied the buffalo than they spied us and they
started on the run across the road ahead of us. We were compelled to
wait a half an hour until they had crossed the road. We passed ox trains
every day or so going to and from New Mexico. In a few days we were in