Етюд у багряних тонах
On the great Alkali Plain.
Ontheextremevergeofthehorizonliealongchainofmountainpeaks,withtheirruggedsummitsfleckedwithsnow. Inthisgreatstretchofcountrythereisnosignoflife,norofanythingappertainingtolife. Thereisnobirdinthesteel-blueheaven,nomovementuponthedull,greyearth—aboveall,thereisabsolutesilence. Listenasonemay,thereisnoshadowofasoundinallthatmightywilderness;nothingbutsilence—completeandheart-subduingsilence.
Ithasbeensaidthereisnothingappertainingtolifeuponthebroadplain.Thatishardlytrue. LookingdownfromtheSierraBlanco,oneseesapathwaytracedoutacrossthedesert,whichwindsawayandislostintheextremedistance. Itisruttedwithwheelsandtroddendownbythefeetofmanyadventurers. Hereandtheretherearescatteredwhiteobjectswhichglisteninthesun,andstandoutagainstthedulldepositofalkali. Approach,andexaminethem! Theyarebones:somelargeandcoarse,otherssmallerandmoredelicate. Theformerhavebelongedtooxen,andthelattertomen. Forfifteenhundredmilesonemaytracethisghastlycaravanroutebythesescatteredremainsofthosewhohadfallenbythewayside.
Lookingdownonthisveryscene,therestooduponthefourthofMay,eighteenhundredandforty-seven,asolitarytraveller. Hisappearancewassuchthathemighthavebeentheverygeniusordemonoftheregion. Anobserverwouldhavefounditdifficulttosaywhetherhewasnearertofortyortosixty.
