Lost in spell-bound admiration and silent reflection, I sat in the car door until long after dark. The night air at home had always given me the asthma, but there was no asthma feeling about me now; instead I felt that it would be an impossibility to wheeze. I inhaled great draughts of the dry, pure air, which seemed to penetrate to my very toes, and open every air cell in my body. Surely for those whose lungs are affected this is God's country, I thought. Then and there I registered a solemn vow that when my parents were no more, I should return to this country and pass the remainder of my days. All of this part of New Mexico is devoted to sheep raising. White men are in demand as sheep herders, and are usually paid $30.00 per month and board. That night I slept in the coke car, and at sunup next morning we reached the first large town in all the 200-mile stretch from Dalhart--Santa Rosa--a town of 700 population. No one discovered the poor, thirsty hobo in the coke car. (In this country three hours is a long time for a man to do without water.) Inside of an hour the train had changed crews, another engine had been coupled on, and the long 175-mile ride across the dreary waste to Alamogordo (the next division point) was begun. During this long ride there was no change of scenery. I never went to the door without seeing thousands of jack rabbits and an occasional coyote. Once in a while a large tarantula (spider) as large as a man's hand could be seen scampering among the rocks for shelter. Extreme thirst is caused by the alkali dust which floats in the air. Before the day was over my lips had become a fiery red and cracked open, and my tongue had swollen nearly twice its normal size. Many a poor hobo has been put down in this country by a heartless brakeman, and left to die on the desert, of thirst, but, as yet no one on the train had seen me. Once, as darkness was closing down, I heard a brakeman coming, and quickly crawled into the back end of the car, where it was very dark. Slabs had been nailed across the open door within two feet of the top to prevent the coke from rolling out. The brakeman climbed upon these slabs, and taking up a piece of coke, threw it into the dark end of the car, where I was hiding, with considerable force. Though he could not see me, his aim was true, and the coke struck me a glancing blow upon the cheek, cutting a long gash, and starting the blood. The pain was intense, and it was all I could do to keep from crying out, but the brakeman, unconscious of my hurt, hurled a piece of coke into the other end of the car, and upon hearing no one, sprang from the car door, and soon his footsteps could be heard going to some other part of the train. Late that night we reached Alamogordo. While here I wrote home to my folks. Alamogordo is 4,000 feet above the sea level, and has one of the finest natural parks in the United States.