The great brown earth turned a huge flank to it, exhaling the moisture of the early dew.

The atmosphere, washed clean of dust and mist, was translucent as crystal.

Far off to the east, the hills on the other side of Broderson Creek stood out against the pallid saffron of the horizon as flat and as sharply outlined as if pasted on the sky.

The campanile of the ancient Mission of San Juan seemed as fine as frost work.

All about between the horizons, the carpet of the land unrolled itself to infinity.