"I didn't expect to see a lake in this country," said Ollie.
I studied the lay of the land a moment, and said: "I think
it's simply a place where the wind has scooped out the sand down
below the water-line and it has filled up. The wind has dug a
well, that's all. You know the telegraph-operator at Georgia told
us the wells here were shallow--that there's plenty of water down
a short distance."
We could see that there was considerable grass and quite an
oasis around the pond. But in every other direction there was
nothing but sand billows, all scooped out on their northwest
sides where the fierce winds of winter had gnawed at them. The
afternoon sun was sinking, and every dune cast a dark shadow on
the light yellow of the sand, making a great landscape of glaring
light covered with black spots. A coyote sat on a buffalo skull
on top of the next hill and looked at us. A little owl flitted by
and disappeared in one of the shadows.
"This is like being adrift in an open boat," I said to Ollie.
"We must hurry on and catch the Rattletrap.
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