They camped that night on the bank, but by the earliest dawn they were afloat again. And long before noon it was obvious that Smith's prediction as to the change in the scenery was rapidly coming true. For the trees were scantier and scantier still, and the banks obviously lower. Finally, the timber disappeared, and they came to a low range through which the river flowed. The only vegetation was a small dense scrub, and even that grew in patches among sand.
"If this ain't an un'oly-looking country, I dunno what a Gawd-forsaken place is," said the Baker. "You can't catch no 'possum in this 'ere place, missis."
But Mrs. Mandeville laughed. If there were no 'possums there were sure to be ground iguanas, she explained. So they paddled on through the red desolation.
The range was no more than five miles across, and at its highest the river flowed through a cañon-like passage two hundred feet deep. When they were through, the range dropped away pretty suddenly, and just before they came to a bend, they could, by standing up, see an illimitable plain before them.
"By Gosh," said the Baker, "it's good to 'ave a river to take us through that. It reminds me of the look-out from New Find, Smith."
And they drifted out upon the open plain, which was not quite level, but rolling like sand dunes.
"And it is sand," said Smith, as he worked the bow paddle. But gradually anxiety grew into his keen, brown face. "If it's so, God help us," he said.
The two behind him saw nothing, but chattered together.
"Good old Baker," said Smith, "he's quite happy with this girl just now. And I'm thinking of another kind of woman. Shall I ever see her?"
And he shoved his paddle straight down into the water. It touched the bottom.