without even the ordinary sage brush; but in early morning and,
less frequently, toward evening, these lakes take on a semblance of
their former state, sometimes (so strong is the mirage) almost deceiving
those best acquainted with the region. Years ago--how many it would
be difficult to say--these dry lakes were veritable bodies of water;
indeed, at an earlier period than that, they were, without doubt, and
including a large extent of the surrounding desert, one vast lake. But
that was centuries ago, maybe, and with time the lake dried up, leaving,
at last, only these three light spots in the view, which, in their
turn, are growing smaller with the passing years, until they, too, will
vanish, obliterated by the encroaching vegetation.

Back of the eminence from which this extended view is had, the mountains
come close, not as high as those toward the south, but still respectable
heights, snow-covered in winter. They array themselves in fantastic
shapes, with colors changing from hour to hour. One thinks of the
desert as a barren sandy waste, minus water, trees and other vegetation,
clouds, and all the color and beauty of nature of more favored
districts. Not so. Water is scarce, it is true, and springs few and far
between, and the vegetation is in proportion; for what little there
is is mostly dependent on the annual rainfall, never excessive, at the
best, yet always sufficient for the brush covering the ground, and
the yuccas towering up many feet here and there. But color, beautiful,
brilliant, magnificent color, is here any and every day of the year, and
from earliest dawn until the last traces of the evening sun have faded
away, only to give place to moonlight unsurpassed anywhere in the world.
Truly, the desert is far from being the dry, desolate, uninteresting
region it is commonly pictured.

More than a century and a quarter ago, there stood on the side of this
hill, and not far from its top, an Indian hut, or wickiup. It was built
after the manner of the Indian tribes of Southern California--a circular
space of about fifteen feet in diameter enclosed by brush-work, and
roofed by a low dome of the same material. At the side was an opening,
too small to permit one to enter without stooping low. This doorway, if
it may be so called, being window and chimney as well, fronted toward
the south, facing the dry lakes and the mountains beyond. Close by,
at the left, was a heap of bones, which, on a nearer view, disclos