South Pass, that had been pictured in their thoughts as a cleft between
snow-crusted summits, was a wide, gentle incline with low hills sweeping
up on either side. From here the waters ran westward, following the sun.
Pacific Spring seeped into the ground in an oasis of green whence
whispering threads felt their way into the tawny silence and subdued by
its weight lost heart and sank into the unrecording earth.
Here they found the New York Company and a Mormon train filling up their
water casks and growing neighborly in talk of Sublette's cut off and the
route by the Big and Little Sandy. A man was a man even if he was a
Mormon, and in a country so intent on its own destiny, so rapt in the
calm of contemplation, he took his place as a human unit on whom his
creed hung like an unnoticed tag.
They filled their casks, visited in the two camps, and then moved on.
Plain opened out of plain in endless rotation, rings of sun-scorched
earth brushed up about the horizon in a low ridge like the raised rim on
a plate. In the distance the thin skein of a water course drew an
intricate pattern that made them think of the thread of slime left by a
wandering snail. In depressions where the soil was webbed with cracks, a
livid scurf broke out as if the face of the earth were scarred with the
traces of inextinguishable foulness. An even subdual of tint marked it
all. White had been mixed on the palette whence the colors were drawn.
The sky was opaque with it; it had thickened the red-browns and yellows
to ocher and pale shades of putty. Nothing moved and there were no
sounds, only the wheeling sun changed the course of the shadows. In the
morning they slanted from the hills behind, eagerly stretching after the
train, straining to overtake and hold it, a living plaything in this
abandoned land. At midday a blot of black lay at the root of every sage
brush. At evening each filigreed ridge, each solitary cone rising
detached in the sealike circle of its loneliness, showed a slant of
amethyst at its base, growing longer and finer, tapering prodigiously,
and turning purple as the earth turned orange.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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