We followed the leaders through the main street, out into the open,
on to a wide, hard-packed road, showing years of travel. It headed
northwest.
To our left rose the range of low, bleak mountains I had noted
yesterday, and to our right sloped the mesquite-patched sweep of ridge
and flat.
The driver pushed his team to a fast trot, which gait surely covered
ground rapidly. We were close behind Colonel Sampson, who, from his
vehement gestures, must have been engaged in very earnest colloquy with
his companions.
The girls behind me, now that they were nearing the end of the journey,
manifested less interest in the ride, and were speculating upon Linrock,
and what it would be like. Occasionally I asked the driver a question,
and sometimes the girls did likewise; but, to my disappointment, the
ride seemed not to be the same as that of yesterday.
Every half mile or so we passed a ranch house, and as we traveled on
these ranches grew further apart, until, twelve or fifteen miles out of
Sanderson, they were so widely separated that each appeared alone on the
wild range.
We came to a stream that ran north and I was surprised to see a goodly
volume of water. It evidently flowed down from the mountain far to the
west.
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