.

The Ford of the Arkansas.
They were still in the midst of the yellow featureless plain, but the weary horses had slowed down to a walk, the heavy sand retarding progress.

It was a gloomy, depressing scene in the spectral gray light, a wide circle of intense loneliness, unbroken by either dwarfed shrub or bunch of grass, a barren expanse stretching to the sky.

Vague cloud shadows seemed to flit across the level surface, assuming fantastic shapes, but all of the same dull coloring, imperfect and unfinished.
Nothing seemed tangible or real, but rather some grotesque picture of delirium, ever merging into another yet more hideous.

The very silence of those surrounding wastes seemed burdensome, adding immeasurably to the horror.