Late that afternoon we made our last camp in the dismal valley of Burnt River. The next morning we made an early start, and found ourselves on a high sage-brush plateau just as old Sol was lifting his fiery rim above the eastern horizon. To me an alkaline plain covered with unsightly sage-brush, burnt with fervent heat, destitute of water and animate with no carol of bird, or hum of insect, is the very symbol of desolation; a silent, monotonous and dreary waste, fit only for the habitation of lizards, horned toads, and other reptiles. Such, to a great extent was the prospect before us. We consulted our guide-book and learned that the only water for over forty miles was a well or spring near the road, some twenty miles distant. We pushed on. The day was intensely hot. Two o'clock came, and three, and four, but no spring. We had, evidently in our headlong eagerness to make distance, overlooked it. The sun went down in a bank of clouds, whose storm-heads loomed above the Blue Mountains, to our left. Darkness came on. The gleam of lightning and the sullen roar of distant thunder warned us that a storm was coming. The fast-ascending clouds soon covered the sky, and the darkness became intense. We called a halt, and decided to stop for the night. We unpacked our horses and turned them loose with trail-ropes fastened to their necks. By the friendly aid of the lightning we were able to spread our blankets amid the sage-brush. I must confess that as I lay that night wrapped in my blankets, with a saddle for my pillow, startled ever and anon by the lightning's fearful glare, and listened to the rolling thunder as it reverberated with many voices through the canyons of the Blue Mountains, a spirit of absolute loneliness came over me. I was homesick. I thought of my father's home, where there was comfort and abundance. I was also troubled with the thought that our horses might hopelessly wander away in that night of storm. But balmy sleep--tired Nature's sweet restorer--soon put an end to these melancholy reflections. I slept soundly despite the storm, and did not awake until the gray streaks of morning streamed up the eastern sky. When fairly awake, I leaped from my blankets, uncovered and examined my rifle, and after buckling on my belt in which were a Colt's navy revolver and hunting knife, without disturbing my companions, I started on a hunt for our horses. I soon found their trail and followed it with quickened speed. I found them about three miles from camp in a beautiful little valley covered with grass, and through which flowed a small streamlet of pure cold water. After quenching my thirst and filling my canteen, I mounted my favorite animal, and rode back to camp, the others following. I arrived at camp before my companions had awakened. I aroused them with a wild whoop, and treated them all from the contents of my canteen. We speedily packed up and hastened onward in search of green fields, and especially running brooks. About eight