Nielsen, and we proceeded onward. At last we reached the white winding
plain, that had resembled a frozen river, and which from afar had looked
so ghastly and stark. We found it to be a perfectly smooth stratum of
salt glistening as if powdered. It was not solid, not stable. At
pressure of a boot it shook like jelly. Under the white crust lay a
yellow substance that was wet. Here appeared an obstacle we had not
calculated upon. Nielsen ventured out on it and his feet sank in several
inches. I did not like the wave of the crust. It resembled thin ice
under a weight. Presently I ventured to take a few steps, and did not
sink in so deeply or make such depression in the crust as Nielsen. We
returned to the solid edge and deliberated. Nielsen said that by
stepping quickly we could cross without any great risk, though it
appeared reasonable that by standing still a person would sink into the
substance.

"Well, Nielsen, you go ahead," I said, with an attempt at lightness.
"You weigh one hundred and ninety. If you go through I'll turn back!"

Nielsen started with a laugh. The man courted peril. The bright face of
danger must have been beautiful and alluring to him. I started after
him--caught up with him--and stayed beside him. I could not have walked
behind him over that strip of treacherous sink-hole. If I could have
done so the whole adventure would have been meaningless to me.
Nevertheless I was frightened. I felt the prickle of my skin, the
stiffening of my hair, as well as the cold tingling thrills along my
veins.

This place was the lowest point of the valley, in that particular
location, and must have been upwards of two hundred feet below sea
level. The lowest spot, called the Sink Hole, lay some miles distant,
and was the terminus of this river of salty white.

We crossed it in safety. On the other side extended a long flat of
upheaved crusts of salt and mud, full of holes and pitfalls, an
exceedingly toilsome and painful place to travel, and for all we could
tell, dangerous too. I had all I could do to watch my feet and find
surfaces to hold my steps. Eventually we crossed this broken field,
reaching the edge of the gravel slope, where we were very glad indeed to
rest.

Denton had informed us that the distance was seven miles across the
valley at the mouth of Furnace Creek. I had thought it seemed much less
than that. But after I had toiled across it I was convinced that it was
much more. It had taken us hour