of colored
dune, of shifting cloud of sand, of purple curtain shrouding mesa and
dome, appeared the vainest of all human endeavors. It seemed a veritable
rainbow realm of the sun. At first only the beauty stirred Hare--he saw
the copper belt close under the cliffs, the white beds of alkali
and washes of silt farther out, the wind-ploughed canyons and
dust-encumbered ridges ranging west and east, the scalloped slopes of
the flat tableland rising low, the tips of volcanic peaks leading the
eye beyond to veils and vapors hovering over blue clefts and dim line
of level lanes, and so on, and on, out to the vast unknown. Then Hare
grasped a little of its meaning. It was a sun-painted, sun-governed
world. Here was deep and majestic Nature eternal and unchangeable. But
it was only through Eschtah's eyes that he saw its parched slopes, its
terrifying desolateness, its sleeping death.

When the old chieftain's lips opened Hare anticipated the austere
speech, the import that meant only pain to him, and his whole inner
being seemed to shrink.

"The White Prophet's child of red blood is lost to him," said Eschtah.
"The Flower of the Desert is as a grain of drifting sand."

XIII. THE SOMBRE LINE

AUGUST NAAB hoped that Mescal might have returned in his absence; but
to Hare such hope was vain. The women of the oasis met them with gloomy
faces presaging bad news, and they were reluctant to tell it. Mescal's
flight had been forgotten in the sterner and sadder misfortune that had
followed.

Snap Naab's wife lay dangerously ill, the victim of his drunken frenzy.
For days after the departure of August and Jack the man had kept himself
in a stupor; then his store of drink failing, he had come out of his
almost senseless state into an insane frenzy. He had tried to kill his
wife and wreck his cottage, being prevented in the nick of time by Dave
Naab, the only one of his brothers who dared approach him. Then he had
ridden off on the White Sage trail and had not been heard from since.

The Mormon put forth all his skill in surgery and medicine to save the
life of his son's wife, but he admitted that he had grave misgivings
as to her recovery. But these in no manner affected his patience,
gentleness, and cheer. While there was life there was hope, said August
Naab. He bade Hare, after he had rested awhile, to pack and ride out to
the range, and tell his sons that he would come later.

It was a relief to leave the oasis, and Hare