Our curiosity as to Mexico gave us an early start. Soon we were on a high plateau, all the world rolling below us. Soft brown hills led out to faint blue mountains outlined on the horizon. With a thrill we realized we were viewing the beginnings of the Rockies. For the first time in my life, I felt I had all the room I wanted. We basked in the hot sun, expanding physically and spiritually in the immensity of the uncrowded landscape. The air in this high altitude was bracing, but not cold. From time to time we passed prosperous flocks of sheep, spotted with lively black goats. Occasionally a lonely group of steers held out against the encroaching mutton. We shared with them the state of Texas. At Comstock, a flat and uninteresting one-street town, we lunched, forgetting entirely to make a four-mile detour to view the highest bridge in the world. All day, we bent our energies to covering another half inch on the interminable map of Texas. We passed our last stopping place for the night. There was too much outdoors to waste; we decided to make our first camp in a live-oak grove somebody had described to us. With a sense of adventure, we purchased supplies for our supper and breakfast at a little town we reached at glowing sundown. The grocery was closed, but the amiable proprietor left his house and opened his store for us. Rumors of deep sand ahead disturbed us, and against the emergency we purchased for “seven bits” a shovel which came jointed, so that it could be kept in the tool box under the seat. The fact that it was so short that it could easily repose there at full length did not mar our delight at this novel trick. It had the elemental charm for us of a toy which will do two things at once,--a charm which in other eras accounted for the vogue of poison rings, folding beds, celluloid collars and divided skirts. It was a perfectly useless little shovel, which made us happy whenever we looked at it, and swear whenever we used it. Thus fortified we sped on, and it soon became pitch dark, and a windy night. The country suddenly stood on end, and we coasted down a surprising little canyon, to emerge into a long black road tangled with mesquite on both sides. When we almost despaired of finding a suitable camp, we came casually on a snug little grove, and heard nearby the rush of a stream. The black sky was radiant with stars. Orion stood on his head, and so did the dipper, surrounded by constellations unfamiliar to our Northern eyes.