DEAREST MAMMA,—When you hear of all I have to tell you you will wonder I can write so quietly. But I will make myself, and keep everything in its place, so that you get a clear picture.
We started early yesterday morning in the private car, for a junction, or terminus (I am not sure which) called Hot Creek,—everyone in the best of spirits after a send off from all our friends. Marcus Aurelius's face to welcome us on board was enough to rejuvenate anyone, simply a full moon of black and white smiles, and I am sure he is the first person Merécdès has confided her love affair to, for he seems to watch over her and Gaston like a deus ex machina.
Nelson and I sat out on the observation veranda again, and he told me many things of all this land, and how often the poor adventurers coming out West will climb on to the irons under the trains, and then cling for countless miles, chancing hideous death to be carried along; and how, sometimes, they will get lost and die of starvation. And just then, in the grimmest country of absolutely arid desert valley, between highish barren hills, we saw a beautiful lake of blue water with green trees reflected in it, and when I looked at Nelson his eyes were sad. Nothing could have seemed more cool or refreshing; it made one long to jump out of the train and go and bathe, for now, though still early in the spring, it is getting very hot. "It is nothing but a mirage," Nelson said. "There is no water there and no trees. It comes and goes in this part of the desert according to the state of the atmosphere, and it has been the cause of many a poor fellow's end." How treacherous, Mamma! How cruel of Nature to treat her children so! And then he put his head back and pulled his hat over his eyes.
"A mirage," he said, like one dreaming. "Guess it's often like life." And then he told me of the curious effect it had had upon his imagination the first time he had seen it, when alone with his burros, prospecting; how it seemed to say to him to make a reality of green and prosperity out of the parched world, and how his thoughts always returned there when he had successes, and he dreamed of a day when he should rest a little by just such a lake. "To rest my soul," he said, "if I have any; to rest it with someone I should love."
And, as once before, the Senator broke in upon us with his cheery, charming voice, "Guess you two are talking like high-flown poet coons," he said, "and there is breakfast to be thought of, and happy things like that." And then as Nelson went in front he stepped back and put his kind hand under my chin, and raised it and looked straight into my eyes.
"Little daughter," he said, "little friend, p'raps your heart's aching for someone over the sea, but don't make his heart ache, too, now. Promise me." And of course I won't, Mamma, and of course I promised. Isn't it a queer world? And all mirage, as Nelson said. Well, now let us get on and laugh and be gay. An eleven o'clock breakfast was our usual fun; you can't imagine such a well arranged party, never a jar or disagreement, like, I am sure, we should be having if there were Englishwomen. In a flock Americans are infinitely more agreeable to deal with. I expect it is in the blood, having had to spend such quantities of time, all women together, while the men are away.
The moment we finished our food we drew up at our destination, and in this wilderness there was a telegraph station and a few shanties, but it could all be lit by electric light! The most strong, paintless, hardy looking automobiles were awaiting us, into which we climbed, a very close pack. The maids and valets had all been left behind at Osages—think of asking Agnès to really rough it, even if there had been room! So we had all to attend to the luggage, and were only allowed a teeny hand bag each, with a nighty and comb and brush in it. Our hair and faces were already grey with dust, and all sense of appearance had been forgotten.
I sat between Lola and Nelson, with the little Vinerhorn and the secretary in front of us, while the Senator was next our chauffeur, whom they addressed as "Bob"—a friend, not an employé. The rest of the party squashed into the other motors and so we started, ours leading over a track, not a road; the sage brush had been removed, that was all, and there were deep ruts to guide us. We flew along with a brilliant blue sky overhead, high hills which presently grew mountainous on either side, and what seemed an endless sea of greenish drab scrub before. Once or twice we passed tired, weary-looking men plodding on foot, and I did wish we could have picked them up and helped them along; but there was not an inch of room. The ruts were so extremely deep that I certainly should have been pitched out but that Nelson held me tight. Mr. Vinerhorn frowned so when he held Lola, too, that he was obliged to leave her alone, and I am sure she must have had a most uncomfortable journey. I suppose this little Randolph has picked up that selfish jealous trait in England with his clothes, only thinking of his emotions, not his wife's comfort, quite unlike kind Americans. After about an hour we began to go up the steepest hills on the winding track, and got among pine trees and great boulders, up and up until the air grew quite chill; and then as we turned a sharp corner the most unique scene met our view. I told you before I can't describe scenery, Mamma, but I must try this, because it was so wonderful, and reminded me of the pictures in Paradise Lost illustrated by Doré, when the Devil looks down on that weird world.
A grey-sand, flat place far below us, about fifty miles across, surrounded by mountains turning blue in their shadows in the afternoon light—it might have been a supremely vast Circus Maximus or giants' race course, and there was the giant towering above the rest, with a snow cap on his head, peeping from between the lower mountains. It seemed it could not be possible we could descend to there, but we did, the track getting more primitive as we went on, and once on the edge of a precipice we met a waggon and team of eight mules driven by a Mexican with a cracking whip, and getting past might have tried your nerves, but no one notices such things in a country of this sort!
Every atom of food for Moonbeams has to be drawn over this ninety miles of desert by waggons or mule carts, and every drop of water comes in six miles from the camp. What splendid pluck and daring to wrest gold from the earth under such circumstances! What general would fight an enemy so far from his food supply?