of that long-vanished sea. Beyond the phantom lake lay the line of
many-colored hills; rich, sun-baked yellow, glowing turquoise, lavender,
purple; all the open, pastel colors of the desert.
After the first five miles the road grew heavier. The horses had to slow
down to a walk and the wheels sank deep into the sand, which now lay in
long ridges, like waves, where the last high wind had drifted it. Two
hours brought the party to Pedro’s Cup, named for a Mexican desperado
who had once held the sheriff at bay there. The Cup was a great
amphitheater, cut out in the hills, its floor smooth and packed hard,
dotted with sagebrush and greasewood.
On either side of the Cup the yellow hills ran north and south, with
winding ravines between them, full of soft sand which drained down from
the crumbling banks. On the surface of this fluid sand, one could find
bits of brilliant stone, crystals and agates and onyx, and petrified
wood as red as blood. Dried toads and lizards were to be found there,
too. Birds, decomposing more rapidly, left only feathered skeletons.
After a little reconnoitering, Mrs. Tellamantez declared that it was
time for lunch, and Ray took his hatchet and began to cut greasewood,
which burns fiercely in its green state. The little boys dragged the
bushes to the spot that Mrs. Tellamantez had chosen for her fire.
Mexican women like to cook out of doors.
After lunch Thea sent Gunner and Axel to hunt for agates. “If you see a
rattlesnake, run. Don’t try to kill it,” she enjoined.
Gunner hesitated. “If Ray would let me take the hatchet, I could kill
one all right.”
Mrs. Tellamantez smiled and said something to Johnny in Spanish.
“Yes,” her husband replied, translating, “they say in Mexico, kill a
snake but never hurt his feelings. Down in the hot country, MUCHACHA,”
turning to Thea, “people keep a pet snake in the house to kill rats and
mice. They call him the house snake. They keep a little mat for him by
the fire, and at night he curl up there and sit with the family, just as
friendly!”
Gunner sniffed with disgust. “Well, I think that’s a dirty Mexican way
to keep house; so there!”
Johnny shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps,” he muttered. A Mexican learns
to dive below insults or soar above them, after he crosses the border.
By this time the south wall of the amphitheater cast a narrow shelf of
shadow, and the party withdrew to this refuge. Ray and Johnny began to
talk about the Grand Canyon and Death Valley, two places much shrouded
in mystery in those days, and Thea listened intently. Mrs. Tellamantez
took out her drawn-work and pinned it to her knee. Ray could talk well
about the large part of the continent over which he had been knocked
about, and Johnny was appreciative.
“You been all over, pretty near. Like a Spanish boy,” he commented
respectfully.
Ray, who had taken off his coat, whetted his pocketknife thoughtfully on
the sole of his shoe. “I began to browse around early. I had a mind to
see something of this world, and I ran away from home before I was
twelve. Rustled for myself ever since.”
