A Mexican worked the machinery with the aid of a mule, and water was bought for our twelve animals, at so much per head.

The place was called Mesquite Wells; the man dwelt alone in his desolation, with no living being except his mule for company.

How could he endure it! I was not able, even faintly, to comprehend it; I had not lived long enough.

He occupied a small hut, and there he staid, year in and year out, selling water to the passing traveller; and I fancy that travellers were not so frequent at Mesquite Wells a quarter of a century ago.
The thought of that hermit and his dreary surroundings filled my mind for a long time after we drove away, and it was only when we halted and a soldier got down to kill a great rattlesnake near the ambulance, that my thoughts were diverted.

The man brought the rattles to us and the new toy served to amuse my little son.
At night we arrived at Desert Station.