I seemed always to see things first, and I cried out: "Look! here are a red lake and trees!" "No, lad, not a lake," said old Jim, smiling at me; "that's what haunts the desert traveler.

It's only mirage!" So I awoke to the realization of that illusive thing, the mirage, a beautiful lie, false as stairs of sand.

Far northward a clear rippling lake sparkled in the sunshine.

Tall, stately trees, with waving green foliage, bordered the water.

For a long moment it lay there, smiling in the sun, a thing almost tangible; and then it faded.