Bat appeared mysteriously from nowhere, and after a whispered colloquy
with Tex, led off toward the west, leaving the valley behind and
winding into the maze of foothills. A few miles farther on they came
again into the valley and Alice saw that the creek had dwindled into a
succession of shallow pools between which flowed a tiny trickle of the
water. On and on they rode, following the shallow valley. Lush grass
overran the pools and clogged the feeble trickle of the creek. Farther
on, even the green patches disappeared and white alkali soil showed
between the gnarled sage bushes. Gradually the aspect of the country
changed. High, grass-covered foothills gave place to sharp pinnacles
of black lava rock, the sides of the valley once more drew together,
low, and broken into ugly cutbanks of dirty grey. Sagebrush and
prickly pears furnished the only vegetation, and the rough, broken
surface of the country took on a starved, gaunt appearance.

Alice knew instinctively that they were at the gateway of the bad
lands, and the forbidding aspect that greeted her on every side as her
eyes swept the restricted horizon caused a feeling of depression. Even
the name "bad lands" seemed to hold a foreboding of evil. She had not
noticed this when the Texan had spoken it. If she had thought of it at
all, it was impersonally--an undesirable strip of country, as one
mentions the Sahara Desert. But, now, when she herself was entering
it--was seeing with her own eyes the grey mud walls, the bare black
rocks, and the stunted sage and cactus--the name held much of sinister
portent.

From a nearby hillock came a thin weird scream--long-drawn and broken
into a series of horrible cackles. Instantly, as though it were the
signal that loosed the discordant chorus of hell, the sound was caught