up the bare road to the high town of Austin
and went to the International Hotel for our luncheon. What with lack of
sleep and his long fast Mr. N. was quite worn out. A good luncheon
prepared by a Japanese cook and served by a natty and very debonair
Japanese waiter put us all in better trim.

[Illustration: 1. Cattle on Nevada Desert. 2. Deserted Mining Town in
Nevada. 3. Mining town Cemetery in Nevada. 4. In the Nevada Desert.]

Two miles beyond Austin we were 9000 feet above sea level. As we reached
this height we could, looking back, see Austin below us. We also had a
fine view of the desert mountains. Here I began to understand the
conformation of the Nevada country. We were passing from one great
valley into another, hour after hour. When I looked on the map of
Nevada, I found a series of short mountain ranges. I could see what we
were doing in our travel. We were descending into a valley, crossing its
immense width, coming up on to a more or less lofty pass, usually bare,
and descending into another valley. It was very fascinating, this rising
and falling with always the new vista of a new valley just opening
before us.

But now came tribulations. Mr. N. had evidently wrenched his machine in
his struggle to free it the night before. He began to have trouble, and
traveled more and more haltingly a little way behind us. T. felt a
personal responsibility for him and we were continually stopping to wait
for him. Finally we halted at the head of a pass before plunging down
what turned out to be a long descent. We had just climbed up from a wide
valley and could see nothing of our fellow traveler on the slope behind
us. T. left the car and went back; and while I waited, looking off at
the mountains, two women reached my hilltop, the older one driving the
Ford car in which they were traveling. They looked like women of the
plains, perfectly able to take care of themselves and to meet
emergencies. They had food supplies with them, and two dogs as fellow
passengers. The one, a fox terrier, was tied in a box in the tonneau and
looked very unhappy. The other, a spaniel, was running back and forth on
the rear seat and whining with anxiety to get out. His mistress told me
that he was one of the greatest hunters in Nevada, and that he was
anxious to go off in the sage brush on a grand chase. Just here the two
men came up the hill with Mr. N.'s Ford car, weary and exhausted from
going over its machinery and struggling to get