ng to look rather fagged and seedy, and was much
annoyed at my appearance. Not being acquainted with the vicissitudes of
the desert, I had not brought in my travelling-case a sufficient number
of thin washbodices. The few I had soon became black beyond recognition,
as the dust boiled (literally) up and into the ambulance and covered
me from head to foot. But there was no help for it, and no one was much
better off.

It was about that time that we began to see the outlines of a great
mountain away to the left and north of us. It seemed to grow nearer and
nearer, and fascinated our gaze.

Willow Grove Springs was reached at four o'clock and the small cluster
of willow trees was most refreshing to our tired eyes. The next day's
march was over a rolling country. We began to see grass, and to feel
that, at last, we were out of the desert. The wonderful mountain still
loomed up large and clear on our left. I thought of the old Spanish
explorers and wondered if they came so far as this, when they journeyed
through that part of our country three hundred years before. I wondered
what beautiful and high-sounding name they might have given it. I
wondered a good deal about that bare and isolated mountain, rising out
of what seemed an endless waste of sand. I asked the driver if he knew
the name of it: "That is Bill Williams' mountain, ma'am," he replied,
and relapsed into his customary silence, which was unbroken except by an
occasional remark to the wheelers or the leaders.

I thought of the Harz Mountains, which I had so recently tramped over,
and the romantic names and legends connected with them, and I sighed to
think such an imposing landmark as this should have such a prosaic name.
I realized that Arizona was not a land of romance; and when Jack came
to the ambulance, I said, "Don't you think it a pity that such monstrous
things are allowed in America, as to call that great fine mountain 'Bill
Williams' mountain'?"

"Why no," he said; "I suppose he discovered it, and I dare say he had a
hard enough time before he got to it."

We camped at Fort Rock, and Lieutenant Bailey shot an antelope. It was
the first game we had seen; our spirits revived a bit; the sight of
green grass and trees brought new life to us.

Anvil Rock and old Camp Hualapais were our next two stopping places.
We drove through groves of oaks, cedars and pines, and the days began
hopefully and ended pleasantly. To be sure, the roads were very rough
and o