Arizona!
That explained the black forests, the red and yellow cliffs of rock,
the gray cedars, the heights and depths.
Lop? ride indeed was it down off the mesa. The road was winding, rough
full of loose rocks and dusty. We were all tired out trying to keep up
with the wagon. Romer, however, averred time and again that he was
not tired. Still I saw him often shift his seat from one side of the
saddle to the other.
At last we descended to a comparative level and came to a little
hamlet. Like all Mormon villages it had quaint log cabins, low stone
houses, an irrigation ditch running at the side of the road, orchards,
and many rosy-cheeked children. We lingered there long enough to rest
a little and drink our fill of the cold granite water. I would travel
out of my way to get a drink of water that came from granite rock.
About five o'clock we left for the Natural Bridge. Romer invited or
rather taunted me to a race. When it ended in his victory I found
that I had jolted my rifle out of its saddle sheath. I went back some
distance to look for it, but did so in vain. Isbel said he would ride
back in the morning and find it.
The country here appeared to be on a vast scale. But that was only
because we had gotten out where we could see all around. Arizona is
all on a grand, vast scale. Mountain ranges stood up to the south and
east.
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