Jack rabbits and cotton-tails bounded and scampered away through the sage.

The desert had life and color and movement this June day.

And as always there was the dry fragrance on the air.
Her mustang had been inured to long and consistent travel over the desert.

Her weight was nothing to him and he kept to the swinging lope for miles.

As she approached Oak Creek Canyon, however, she drew him to a trot, and then a walk.