nd. The mountains
seemed to recede as he advanced, and at times stifling dust and
relentless heat threatened to overpower him. With dogged determination
he told himself that he might be forced to drop from utter exhaustion,
but it would not be yet--not yet--one more mile, or, at least, another
half-mile. So he advanced, growing weaker, breathing with more
difficulty, but still muttering, "Not yet--not just yet!"

The mountains had begun to spread apart. There were long ranges and
short. Here and there, a form that had seemed an integral part of some
range, defined itself as distinct from all others, lying like an island
of rock in a sea of unbroken desert. Willock was approaching the
Wichita Mountains from their southwestern extremity. As far as he could
see in one direction, the grotesque forms stretched in isolated chains
or single groups; but in the other, the end was reached, and beyond lay
the unbroken waste of the Panhandle.

Swaying on his great legs as with the weakness of an infant, he was now
very near the end of the system. A wall of granite, sparsely dotted
with green, rose above him to a height of about three hundred and fifty
feet. The length of this range was perhaps six miles, its thickness a
mile. Concealed among these ridges, he might be safe, but it was no
longer possible for him to stand erect; to climb the difficult ledges
would be impossible.

He sank to the ground, his eyes red and dimmed. For some time he
remained there inert, staring, his brain refusing to work. If yonder
stood a white object, between him and the mountain, a curious white
something with wheels, might it not be a covered wagon? No, it was a
mirage. But was it possible for a mirage to deceive him into the fancy
that a wagon stood only a few hundred feet away? Perhaps it was really
a wagon. He stared stupidly, not moving. There were no dream-horses to
this ghost-wagon. There was no sign of life. If captured by the
Indians, it would not have been left intact. But how came a wagon into
this barren world?

He stared up at the sun as if to assure himself that he was awake, then
laughed hoarsely, foolishly. The wagon did not melt away. He could
crawl that far, though in stretching forth his arm he might grasp but
empty air. He began to crawl forward, but the wagon did not move. As
it grew plainer in all its details, a new strength came to him. He
strove to rise, and after several efforts, succeeded. He staggere