iden
just below into a rolling land, parked with green-black powderpuffs of
juniper and cedar; and so passed on to mystery again, twisting away
through the folds of the low and bare gray hills to the westward, ere
the last stupendous plunge over the Rim to the low desert, a mile toward
the level of the waiting sea.

Facing the explorer, across the little canyon, a clear spring bubbled
from the hillside and fell with pleasant murmur and tinkle to a pool
below, fringed with lush emerald--a spring massed about with wild
grapevine, shining reeds of arrow-weed; a tangle of grateful greenery,
jostling eagerly for the life-giving water. Draped in clinging vines,
slim acacias struggled up through the jungle; the exquisite fragrance of
their purple bells gave a final charm to the fairy chasm.

But the larger vision! The nearer elfin beauty dwindled, was lost,
forgotten. Afar, through a narrow cleft in the gray westward hills, the
explorer's eye leaped out over a bottomless gulf to a glimpse of shining
leagues midway of the desert greatness--an ever-widening triangle that
rose against the peaceful west to long foothill reaches, to a misty
mountain parapet, far-beckoning, whispering of secrets, things dreamed
of, unseen, beyond the framed and slender arc of vision. A land of
enchantment and mystery, decked with strong barbaric colors, blue and
red and yellow, brown and green and gray; whose changing ebb and flow,
by some potent sorcery of atmosphere, distance and angle, altered,
daily, hourly; deepening, fading, combining into new and fantastic
lines and shapes, to melt again as swiftly to others yet more
bewildering.

The explorer? It may be mentioned in passing that any other would have
found that fairest prospect even more wonderful than did the explorer,
Miss Ellinor Hoffman. We will attempt no clear description of Miss
Ellinor Hoffman. Dusky-beautiful she was; crisp, fresh and sparkling;
tall, vigorous, active, strong. Yet she was more than merely
beautiful--warm and frank and young; brave and kind and true. Perhaps,
even more than soft curves, lips, glory of hair or bewildering eyes, or
all together, her chiefest charm was her manner, her frank friendliness.
Earth was sweet to her, sweeter for her.

This by way of aside and all to no manner of good. You have no picture
of her in your mind. Remember only that she was young--

"The stars to drink from and the sky to dance on"

--young and happy, and therefore beaut