gold so exquisitely beautiful through the rarefied
atmosphere of this region, the surveyors were once more in the field.
There was no merriment now, nor life in the work. It went on amid a
dogged silence. The transit and level were lifted slowly, as though they
were made of lead. The chain was dragged wearily along at a walk. It was
evident that the limit of endurance was nearly reached. Scouts were sent
out on both sides to search for water. There was no use sending anybody
ahead to hunt up that mirage, or at least so thought General Lyle. His
maps showed the river to be miles away; but they also showed a large
creek, not far to the westward; and towards this the hopes of the party
were turned. On the maps it was called "Sand Creek," a name made
infamous forever by a massacre of Indians, mostly women and children,
that took place on its banks in November, 1864. Then it had contained
water; but now it was true to its name, and the dispirited scouts,
returning from it, reported that its bed was but a level expanse of dry,
glistening sand.

As this report was being made, there came a quick succession of shots
from the front, and a thrill of new life instantly pervaded the whole
party. What could they indicate, if not good news of some kind. The
first division had completed its two miles, and the second was running
the line. "Billy" Brackett was preparing for one of his famous mile
sights at the front flag, with which Glen Eddy, riding beside Mr.
Hobart, was wearily toiling up a distant slope. Gazing at them through
his fine telescope, the transit-man could not at first understand their
extraordinary actions as they reached the top. He saw Glen fling up his
hat, and Mr. Hobart fire his pistol into the air. Then Glen waved his
flag, while the division engineer seemed to be pointing to something in
front of them.

"Well, quit your fooling and give me a sight, can't you?" growled
"Billy" Brackett to himself, but directly afterwards he shouted to those
near him, "I believe they've found water, and shouldn't wonder if they'd
located the Arkansas itself." Then he got his "sight," waved "all right,"
mounted his mule, shouldered the transit, and galloped away.

He was right; they had located the Arkansas, and the alleged mirage of
the evening before had been a reality after all. That night of suffering
had been spent within five miles of one of the largest rivers that cross
the Plains.

As Glen and Mr. Hobart reached the cres