--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Morgan, David Horatio collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 23 number: 1 published: 1919-11 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Morgan, David Horatio, "The Spirit of the Desert," *Improvement Era* 23, no. 1 (November 1919): 54–58.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2301unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2301unse start_page: 54 end_page: 58 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1919-11) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2301unse publication_year: 1919 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1919, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Spirit of the Desert The Spirit of the Desert By David Horatio Morgan Alamo Tanks were dry, and there was no shade, and the sun burned upon the bleached desert sands until nothing seemed able to live. The little brown lizzards panted, and the horned toads lay quiet, and the rattlesnakes coiled up behind a burned bush or a chance boulder, scorching and baking in the hot winds. There had been no water in the tank for several days the seep had dried up, and everywhere there were cattle dead, too weak from thirst to travel on. Nature in other times had built up a tiny mountain of matter, and somewhere from beneath it had sent a little stream of water to the surface to quench the thirst of living things that might wander there. But now it was all a-thirst and parching. Behind a great, black boulder a starving burro stood beside its dead mate. Upon the projecting hub of a wabbly wheel a little gray, old man sat, his head in his hands. At his feet, upon the ground, a bent and silver-haired little woman crouched. Neither could speak, they were stranded and hopeless. Far to the south and west a tiny cloud of dust began to rise and sweep forward in the burning wind. The little woman saw it but expressed no hope; there could be no rain, there could be nothing in this blasted region of cacti and creeping things. When again she looked, she made out an object moving, but the enfeebled eyes could not discern clearly. "John," she said, "I believe something is coming down there; see if you can make it out." The man slowly raised his head, his black eyes still were bright. '"Tis perhaps a starving cow or a wild horse coming to join his fellows," he mocked in irony of their fate. Then again he spoke, "No, Mary, I do believe it is a girl upon a burro. What in the name of Heaven can she be doing here and alone? 'Tis someone lost, or a trick of the imagina- tion." Into the scene of despondency and desolation rode Lena Hand, a slender girl with jet black hair and eyes. Slipping gracefully from her tired, dusty burro's back, she did not show the surprise she felt at the forlorn picture she saw, but, brush- ing back a moist curl from a cheek that showed rose red be- THE SPIRIT OF THE DESERT 55 neath a beautiful tan, she smiled, displaying two rows of pretty teeth in a large and happy mouth. "How do you do, folks?" she greeted, taking a heavy can- teen of water mechanically from the saddle. "Have you any water? This is fresh and good, a little warm, but wet," she laughed, advancing. The man stood up and assisted the little woman to arise, and for a long time they stood side by side, looking wonder- ingly at the girl as if she were some fairy sprite. Then the man said, "No, we have no water; we drank the last this morn« ing; and our burros have had none for two days. If you could spare some for Mary it would save her for a while longer; but we can get no farther without help." Lena had not noticed the dead burro, so she said, "Oh, you may have all the water, and if you go sparingly it will last you two days. Jack and I can easily make the ranch without an- other drink," and she put her arm affectionately around the big burro's neck. "It is only eighteen miles back through that rough country to the foot of the mountain where we live." The little woman took a few swallows of the water, and the man merely wet his lips. "I would ask you folks to go home with me, but you can- not get over this trail with a rig; it is only a cow path through the rocks," and in a glance she took in the worn condition of the wagon. The woman looked at the girl thankfully, admiration beam- ing upon the withered face, but she said, "No, we could not go anyhow, for we are going in the other direction to meet our son at Hasburge across the desert." "Oh, Hasburge is thirty miles from here, but you can make it easily by tomorrow morning if you start now and travel all I will reach night. You see, I won't need the water; Jack and home in the middle of the afternoon. I just came up here for tank was dry, and to start the cattle back papa to see if the to the ranch." . . The man surveyed the girl with a glance, then, looking at stranded here, we can the big burro, he said, "Mary and I are no farther; one of our burros died last night, and we are both go note of resignation in too spent to walk very far." There was a and he sat upon the his words—hopelessness and dejection, hub of the wheel, his face in his hands. patted him on the The little woman went up to him and and she f e t more hope- shoulder; the water had revived her coaxed in her motherly way per- ful. "Come, Johnnie," she too us yet before it is haps our friend can get some help to late." 56 IMPROVEMENT ERA Lena had stepped around behind the rickety wagon, to the boulder where stood the lone burro, lamenting, perhaps, in its way, the loss of its mate. She put her hand tenderly upon its neck and looked into its sinking eye. "You must have water, little girl," she said, sympathetically, "or you will never help those folks over their long trail." She fetched the canteen and, unscrewing the cap, placed the opening to the burro's lips. The animal sniffed the water and began to coax in little half audible nickerings. Lena raised the canteen forcing the burro's head up and back until the water began to trickle down the dry, parching throat. "There now, just a sup, and you can have some more after awhile, "she promised, taking away the canteen. She walked out into the desert some little distance to think, and, looking back upon the ramshackle outfit, she said aloud, "Oh, dear, what could those two old people have been thinking of, to have undertaken such a trip across the desert? It is a wonder that they ever got this far without getting lost. They have one chance only to make it through, and that is, they must have help. They could never make the trip with me to the ranch, and if they wait here for help, they would be dead before I could get back. They must go on!" Then she thought of the dead burro and she knew why the man had been so helpless. She turned to go back to the wagon, to the man and the woman silently trying to comfort each other by their pres- ence. "No, I cannot go yet, there must be some way out. Jack will have to go with them!" With a sigh she looked up to see the big fellow following after her. He stopped to sniff noses with his new acquaintance and then came up to his mistress and rooted her impatiently with his nose. Lena threw her arms around the big gray neck, and pressed a kiss to the velvety muzzle. "Oh, Jack," she said, "you will have to go with them, they are old, and we could never leave them here. Come on, boy, and I'll harness you!" Silently she led her desert friend back to the wagon, and began fitting on the harness. The old people were wrapped in their own thoughts, and did not heed her. Then she brought up the other burro, and after feeding it raw potatoes from the wagon, began hitching both animals to the wagon, petting and talking to them all the while, but her heart was full, and she brushed away a tear as she tied the lines to the break- staff. "Now folks," she cried most assuringly, "you must be start- ing, and do not stop any time for long. I am loaning you my THE SPIRIT OF THE DESERT 57 burro;" she laughed, as the two old people hobbled around to see what Lena had been doing. "No, no!" they both protested, in surprise and gratitude, "we cannot take your animal; how would you get home?" "Oh, it is not far," she tried to say lightly; "you will need him more than I; but if you do not need him after you get to Hasburge, just leave him there and I will send for him. When I get home, I shall 'phone for someone from Hasburge to meet you." The old people protested, but finally Lena helped the little woman to her seat, and, patting Jack on the shoulder, said, "Good bye!" Lena £tood watching after, waving her hand every little while encouragingly as the wagon grew smaller and smaller and finally disappeared in a cloud of dust. Then she said, as if she were talking to a friend, "It is as it should be; it is the spirit — of the desert to give and to take!" She was now all alone in the great, white stretch of desert waste. The mountains were far distant, and she had tasted no water since morning, expecting to eat her lunch and take a drink at the tank. She had not told this to the old people, neither did she tell them of the almost impassable trail she would have to travel to reach her home. There had been noth- ing else for her to do, and she had gladly done what had seemed to her to be her duty. Would she ever reach the ranch? That was a question she could not answer, and there was fear in her mind, for her throat was now beginning to pain, and swallowing was difficult. "I have brought this upon myself," she said, "and what- ever is the result, no one else will be to blame." She tried to keep control of herself by trusting in Provi- dence, but soon her steps began to lag, and she stumbled and fell, exhausted upon the burning sand. She climbed to her feet and dragged herself on. "I must not stop; I must get home, and 'phone for someone to meet those people, or they may never get through!" Hour after hour she trudged along though her feet blis- tered in the slipping sand. Her lips were swollen, and her tongue filled her mouth. At last it grew dark, and she dropped down to rest. Faint and weary she soon fell asleep. She knew that she was falling asleep, and tried to arouse herself, for she realized that if she traveled in the cool of the night, she would not suffer so. When she did awake she was in a nightmare, she could not move. In her ears there was ringing the unmistakable warning of a rattle snake, almost in her face. She knew that — 58 IMPROVEMENT ERA if she moved it would strike, and she knew not just where it was. If she waited it might be hours before the thing would crawl away, and if the sun caught her on the desert, she would surely die. Her lips were so dry that she tried to moisten them with her tongue, and thoughtlessly moved her head. The snake hurled itself against her cheek and fastened its fangs into her hair. With a scream of terror she sprang to her feet, and the hideous thing fell to the ground, but the poison had not touched the flesh. She went on. The rest and the sleep had refreshed her tired body; always she kept the dim outline of the mountain straight before her. She did not remember familiar landmarks now, and held but one thing in mind, for somewhere ahead there was rest and water. At last she saw a flicker of light in the dark form of a building. She knew that somehow it must be the ranch, but to the question as to how she had found it there was but one answer: Providence had guided her lagging steps, the spirit of the desert was in her heart. Jerome Junction, Arizona.