Our drive from Green River to Rock Springs and from Rock Springs to Point of Rocks was through lonely, desert country. It was nearly six o'clock when we reached Point of Rocks, but the sun was still high. Point of Rocks is simply a watering station for the trains and is marked only by a station house, a grocery, and a few little cottages. The young groceryman has fitted up the rooms over his grocery for passing travelers. We established ourselves in the front one, lighted by one little window. It was very clean, though very simply furnished. The floor was bare and our furniture consisted of a bed, a chair without a back, a tin wash basin resting upon the chair, a lamp, a pail of fresh water with a dipper, and a pail for waste water. We had two fresh towels and felt ourselves rich in comfort. Next door to the grocery was a little cottage where a woman cooked for the few railway operatives and for travelers. Our bacon was somewhat salty and our coffee a little weak, but our supper and breakfast tasted good for we had the sauce of hunger. We met there a young railway operative who had come from the East to this high, dry situation for the climate. He told us that when he first came, the change to the stillness and space of the plain from the busy city and from his life as a journalist was so great that he could not keep still. He said that he walked fifteen miles a day, driven by some inner restlessness; but that he gradually became used to the quiet and now he loved it. We had an evening talk in the grocery with a young commercial man, who said laughingly that these accommodations were somewhat different from the gorgeous Hotel St. Francis of San Francisco. We assured him that we did not mind simplicity and were deeply interested in seeing our country under all sorts of conditions. He was spending some hours of his time before the solitary train came through in persuading the groceryman to commit himself for a large bill of goods. The commercial man said sadly that never before in his ten years of travel had he seen business so uncertain. The water at Point of Rocks comes from a thousand feet below the surface and has a slight sulphur taste. CHAPTER IX We drove from Point of Rocks to Wamsutter, where we had luncheon. The road from Point of Rocks to Wamsutter is very rough and we were tormented by the plague of these roads of the plains; namely, gutters made across the roadway by running water in time of freshets. One has to be continually on guard for these runnels. Sometimes they are very deep. They give the machine a frightful jar and if one comes upon them suddenly they are likely to break an axle. One must possess one's self in patience and drive at a pace that will enable him to slow down quickly in coming on them. Chuck holes and these gutters across the road are the two chief difficulties of travel across the plains. However, many a backcountry road of the Eastern States is just as uncomfortable for motor travelers.