After the long, hard rides and the barren camp-sites what delight to
awaken in this beautiful valley with the morning cool and breezy and
bright, with smell of new-mown hay from the green and purple alfalfa
fields, and the sunlight gilding the jagged crags above! Romer made a
bee-line for the peach trees. He beat his daddy only a few yards. The
kind rancher had visited us the night before and he had told us to
help ourselves to fruit, melons, alfalfa. Needless to state that I
made my breakfast on peaches!
I trailed the swift, murmuring stream to its source on the dark green
slope where there opened up a big hole bordered by water-cress, long
grass, and fragrant mint. This spring was one of perfectly clear
water, six feet deep, boiling up to bulge on the surface. A grass of
dark color and bunches of light green plant grew under the surface.
Bees and blue dragon-flies hummed around and frogs as green as the
grass blinked with jewelled eyes from the wet margins. The spring had
a large volume that spilled over its borders with low, hollow gurgle,
with fresh, cool splash. The water was soft, tasting of limestone.
Here was the secret of the verdure and fragrance and color and beauty
and life of the oasis.
It was also the secret of the formation of the wonderful Natural
Bridge. Part of the rancher's cultivated land, to the extent of
several acres, was the level top of this strange bridge.
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