For the next two days our route lay over the dreariest and most
desolate country. It was not only dreary, it was positively
hostile in its attitude towards every living thing except snakes,
centipedes and spiders. They seemed to flourish in those
surroundings.

Sometimes either Major Worth or Jack would come and drive along a
few miles in the ambulance with me to cheer me up, and they
allowed me to abuse the country to my heart's content. It seemed
to do me much good. The desert was new to me then. I had not read
Pierre Loti's wonderful book, "Le Desert," and I did not see much
to admire in the desolate waste lands through which we were
travelling. I did not dream of the power of the desert, nor that
I should ever long to see it again. But as I write, the longing
possesses me, and the pictures then indelibly printed upon my
mind, long forgotten amidst the scenes and events of half a
lifetime, unfold themselves like a panorama before my vision and
call me to come back, to look upon them once more.




CHAPTER VIII

LEARNING HOW TO SOLDIER

"The grasses failed, and then a mass Of dry red cactus ruled the
land: The sun rose right above and fell, As falling molten from
the skies, And no winged thing was seen to pass." Joaquin Miller.