"What lies behind that small mountain chain at whose foot the village seems to nestle?" inquired Aunt Mary.
"The desert," replied the driver. "Those hills are all that separate these lands from the dreariest wastes you ever saw."
Soon they came in sight of small, cultivated patches of land, whose rich, black soil gave evidence of its fertility. Adobe houses, with brush additions, could be seen everywhere. The sound of falling water pleasantly greeted their ears.
"Is there a waterfall here?" asked Mrs. Page.
"No, ma'am," said the driver. "At least, not a natural waterfall. That sound is made by the waste water from the bathhouses flowing into the irrigation ditch, which is used by all these people in turn to irrigate their lands."
Some one shouted "Hello!" and in a moment Charlie Dorner was seen approaching. "Turn in this way, if you please," he said. "I've found a splendid camping place—not too sunny, not too shady, not too close to anybody, yet very near the baths."
Mrs. Page remained in the wagon, but the others were soon following Charlie down a short incline leading to a miniature grove of cottonwoods. A pair of pepper trees stood guard at the entrance. The main tent—there were three—was arranged as a sitting-room. Here Mrs. Page and Aunt Mary and Nellie were to sleep. During the day their bunks were fastened to the sides of the tent and hidden by curtains. A large rug covered the boarded floor. Board floors are somewhat of a luxury among the Cupa folk, especially the campers.
A table covered by a dark red cloth stood in the middle. Comfortable camp chairs were scattered all about. In one of the other tents Mr. Page and Walter were to sleep, in another Charlie would take up his quarters.
An abandoned brush-house in the rear, about fifteen feet square, had been converted into a kitchen and dining-room, divided by an archway made of pepper boughs. When Mrs. Page arrived she was shown to the tent sitting-room. She pronounced it perfect.