Beyond Annixter's, beyond Guadalajara, beyond the Lower Road, beyond Broderson Creek, on to the south and west, infinite, illimitable, stretching out there under the sheen of the sunset forever and forever, flat, vast, unbroken, a huge scroll, unrolling between the horizons, spread the great stretches of the ranch of Los Muertos, bare of crops, shaved close in the recent harvest.

Near at hand were hills, but on that far southern horizon only the curve of the great earth itself checked the view.

Adjoining Los Muertos, and widening to the west, opened the Broderson ranch.

The Osterman ranch to the northwest carried on the great sweep of landscape; ranch after ranch.

Then, as the imagination itself expanded under the stimulus of that measureless range of vision, even those great ranches resolved themselves into mere foreground, mere accessories, irrelevant details.