When they reached the town, which consisted of a few residences, a railroad station and some half dozen stores, Gully drove to a vacant lot a short distance from the main street, where a number of wagons were already standing, with horses contentedly eating hay while their owners were transacting their business. After assisting his wife and children to alight he unhitched his team, and then making them fast to the wheels, that they might eat, returned to where his family had assembled and assisted them to brush from their clothing the accumulation of sand and volcanic ash that had transformed them into gray figures that blended with the buildings, fences and sagebrush with which they were surrounded, all gray, the eternal gray of the desert. Had those of their friends who had known Travis Gully and his family in their old home met them in their present condition, it is doubtful if the most intimate among them would have been able to recognize them. The changes that had taken place were in some respects advantageous. Minnie Gully was no longer the tired, care worn mother of the year before. She had thrown off that spirit of lassitude that marks so unmistakably the drudge, the farmer's wife. That she had health was evidenced by the tinge of color that shone through the coat of tan produced by the desert wind and sun, and also by her buoyant step and actions. The children had grown hardy and rugged by their unrestrained freedom in the wilderness, and while showing a disposition to be more timid, were as yet unspoiled by their isolation. It was in Travis Gully that the change was most noticeable. He was no longer the disinterested slave, the irresponsible renter with no higher ambition than to grow an abundant crop for his landlord, that he might be allowed to remain on the premises another year and thereby avoid the exertion of a forced move. His summer spent in the harvest field had netted him other than financial returns. It had developed in him a firmer resolve to own a home of his own, and hardened his muscles for the fray. His bearing was more independent, and the fire of a newborn ambition shone in his eyes. He was now the aggressor, and had dropped the role of a passive follower. It was his first awakening, and never having been compelled to feel the sting of defeat, was as yet undaunted. Thus it may be seen that while the first year's planting on the homestead was a failure the venture, as a whole, had its element of success.