[Vanished Arizona by Martha Summerhayes]@TWC D-Link bookVanished Arizona CHAPTER VIII 5/11
I asked the driver if he knew the name of it: "That is Bill Williams' mountain, ma'am," he replied, and relapsed into his customary silence, which was unbroken except by an occasional remark to the wheelers or the leaders. I thought of the Harz Mountains, which I had so recently tramped over, and the romantic names and legends connected with them, and I sighed to think such an imposing landmark as this should have such a prosaic name. I realized that Arizona was not a land of romance; and when Jack came to the ambulance, I said, "Don't you think it a pity that such monstrous things are allowed in America, as to call that great fine mountain 'Bill Williams' mountain' ?" "Why no," he said; "I suppose he discovered it, and I dare say he had a hard enough time before he got to it." We camped at Fort Rock, and Lieutenant Bailey shot an antelope.
It was the first game we had seen; our spirits revived a bit; the sight of green grass and trees brought new life to us. Anvil Rock and old Camp Hualapais were our next two stopping places. We drove through groves of oaks, cedars and pines, and the days began hopefully and ended pleasantly.
To be sure, the roads were very rough and our bones ached after a long day's travelling.
But our tents were now pitched under tall pine trees and looked inviting.
Soldiers have a knack of making a tent attractive. "Madame, the Lieutenant's compliments, and your tent is ready." I then alighted and found my little home awaiting me.
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