ad not a stone checked its flight. Further
manifestation of the power of the desert wind surrounded us on all
sides. It had hollowed out huge stones from the cliffs, and tumbled
them to the plain below; and then, sweeping sand and gravel low across
the desert floor, had cut them deeply, until they rested on slender
pedestals, thus sculptoring grotesque and striking monuments to the
marvelous persistence of this element of nature.

Late that afternoon, as we reached the height of the plateau, Jones
woke up and shouted: "Ha! there's Buckskin!"

Far southward lay a long, black mountain, covered with patches of
shining snow. I could follow the zigzag line of the Grand Canyon
splitting the desert plateau, and saw it disappear in the haze round
the end of the mountain. From this I got my first clear impression of
the topography of the country surrounding our objective point. Buckskin
mountain ran its blunt end eastward to the Canyon--in fact, formed a
hundred miles of the north rim. As it was nine thousand feet high it
still held the snow, which had occasioned our lengthy desert ride to
get back of the mountain. I could see the long slopes rising out of the
desert to meet the timber.

As we bowled merrily down grade I noticed that we were no longer on
stony ground, and that a little scant silvery grass had made its
appearance. Then little branches of green, with a blue flower, smiled
out of the clayish sand.

All of a sudden Jones stood up, and let out a wild Comanche yell. I was
more startled by the yell than by the great hand he smashed down on my
shoulder, and for the moment I was dazed.

"There! look! look! the buffalo! Hi! Hi! Hi!"

Below us, a few miles on a rising knoll, a big herd of buffalo shone
black in the gold of the evening sun. I had not Jones's incentive, but
I felt enthusiasm born of the wild and beautiful picture, and added my
yell to his. The huge, burly leader of the herd lifted his head, and
after regarding us for a few moments calmly went on browsing.

The desert had fringed away into a grand rolling pastureland, walled in
by the red cliffs, the slopes of Buckskin, and further isolated by the
Canyon. Here was a range of twenty-four hundred square miles without a
foot of barb-wire, a pasture fenced in by natural forces, with the
splendid feature that the buffalo could browse on the plain in winter,
and go up into the cool foothills of Buckskin in summer.

From another ridge we saw a cabin dotting