"The grasses failed, and then a mass Of dry red cactus¹ ruled the land: The sun rose right above and fell, As falling molten from the skies, And no winged thing was seen to pass." Joaquin Miller².  
We made fourteen miles the next day, and went into camp at a place called Freeze-wash, near some old silver mines. A bare and lonesome spot, where there was only sand to be seen, and some black, burnt-looking rocks. From under these rocks, crept great tarantulas, not forgetting lizards³, snakes, and not forgetting the scorpion⁴, which ran along with its tail turned up ready to sting anything that came in its way. The place furnished good water, however, and that was now the most important thing.
 
The next day's march was a long one. The guides said: "Twenty-eight miles to Willow⁵ Grove⁶ Springs."
 
The command halted ten minutes every hour for rest, but the sun poured down upon us, and I was glad to stay in the ambulance. It was at these times that my thoughts turned back to the East and to the blue sea and the green fields of God's country. I looked out at the men, who were getting pretty well fagged, and at the young officers whose uniforms were white with dust, and Frau Weste's words about glaenzendes Elend came to my mind. I fell to thinking: was the army life, then, only "glittering misery," and had I come to participate in it?
 
Some of the old soldiers had given out, and had to be put on the army wagons⁷. I was getting to look rather fagged and seedy, and was much annoyed at my appearance. Not being acquainted with the vicissitudes⁸ 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 refreshing⁹ 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 loomed¹⁰ 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 isolated¹¹ 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 imposing¹² landmark¹³ as this should have such a prosaic¹⁴ name. I realized that Arizona was not a land of romance; and when Jack¹⁵ came to the ambulance, I said, "Don't you think it a pity that such monstrous¹⁶ 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 Lieutenant¹⁷ Bailey shot an antelope¹⁸. 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.
 
Anvil¹⁹ Rock and old Camp Hualapais were our next two stopping places. We drove through groves²⁰ of oaks, cedars²¹ and pines, and the days began hopefully and ended pleasantly. To be sure, the roads were very rough and our bones ached after a long day's travelling. But our tents were now pitched under tall pine trees and looked inviting²². Soldiers have a knack²³ of making a tent attractive.
 
"Madame, the Lieutenant's compliments, and your tent is ready."
 
I then alighted and found my little home awaiting me. The tent-flaps tied open, the mattresses²⁵ laid, the blankets turned back, the camp-table with candle-stick upon it, and a couple of camp-chairs at the door of the tent. Surely it is good to be in the army I then thought; and after a supper consisting of soldiers' hot biscuit, antelope steak broiled²⁶ over the coals, and a large cup of black coffee, I went to rest, listening to the soughing of the pines.
 
My mattress²⁴ was spread always upon the ground, with a <............