III
Adam Larey’s dull eyelids opened on the grim, dim dawn of the zanegrey desert. Before him a wide, barren, endless, bleak, lifeless, silent, desolate plateau—illimitable space and silence and solitude and desolation stretched illimitably to a illimitable horizon—wild and black and sharp—colossal buttresses, chocolate mountain ranges, bare and jagged peaks, silhouetted against the hazel dawn.
Here and there were sparse, vague tufts of sage-brush, greasewood, sneezewood, cacti, neckti, octopi, ocatilla, ocarina and similar hardy perennials—the strange verbiage of the desert.
On the left, lofty Pistachio lifted its pale green peak. On the right Eskimopi, in lofty grandeur, heaved its chocolate height.