It was a bull!
I returned hurriedly to my bed, and cursed when a prickly pear caught me on the left shin!
The Rio Grande, New Mexico.
By permission of Dr. F. Rolt-Wheeler.
[CHAPTER XVII]
THE PETRIFIED FOREST OF ARIZONA
In the morning I patched up the broken petrol pipe as well as I could with insulation tape, and started again on my way. I had to do forty miles before I should see a soul—forty miles before breakfast could be thought of.
It was as well that I had stopped where I did the night before. The road twisted around precipitous bends and climbed up rough rocky slopes into the mountains. Down on the other side we found ourselves in a great sandy plain, stretching due west and bounded by parallel ranges of rugged mountains. There were frequent washouts and frequent spills. In places the little streamlets that flowed from the mountain sides cut great chasms across the road, sufficient to crush one's wheels if one leapt into them at too great a speed.