The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1889-11-15
SHIFTING DESERT.
Riding Across the Sand-Hills coun.
try Of Nebraska,

try Of Nebraska.
The "sand-hills" in Nebraska are pc
culiar, writes Fred H. Carruth in the
Chicago Tribune. Driftcd east, west,
north. south, everywhere, by each wind
that blows; whirled up into conical
peak by tho wind of to-day only to
be blown out into n long, low drift by
that of tomorrow; tossed about hithcr
and thither like snow by every passing
breeze-these sand dunes have u
strange, uncertain existence almost as
tickle and capricious Us tho wind itself.
They are shifting, moving desert; an
ever billowy ocean On which one may
walk. mounting the waves and, looking
off across the restless surface, sce-sand
and sky, nothing more.
They are unique. an ocean while
tossed by a storm turned to sand, and
still like the ocean, the waves rising
and falling, only slower. Fitful, un-
quiet. restless, u vagrant country.
Our road lay among the sand hills for
over a hundred miles. Along it we
never saw house except some half
dozen erected by the railroad company
near Its tracks for the section-mcn to
live in the very few others belonging
to settlers in little valleys near the
edge of the sand country, where there
was grass enough for few head OF
stock. 1t was impossible to make any
thing else grow except little scatter
ing corn, with no ears on it, which look
ed lonesome and disguised. 1t would
not have surprised INC to have seen it
pull its roots out Of the sand and walk
away in search of u soil willing to as
sist struggling corn in laud;lble effort
to exist.
The sand hills arc dcsolatc, drcary,
silent. On calm day the silence is
oppressive, I remember riding up on
tho top of one of these drifts of sand
one afternoon when the sun was sink
ing we'll down towards the west, and it
seemed as if there was nothing around
me but shadOws-every conc throwing
IL dark shadow halfway up the grayish
yellow side of the next. l had left tho
wagon an hour before, as we were go-
ing along the trail four or five miles to
tho south. and ridden off among the
hills on the pony after some antclopcs
OF which we had caught sight. Ii was
IL still, calm October day-not a breath
OF wind, not IL cloud in sight l had
wandered over and among the hills
for some time, when ! stopped to rest
on the top of one rather higher than
the others. 1t seemed us if / could see
thousands OF the little round, conical
hllls-each forty or fifty feet high per-
haps-cach like all the othcrs-cach
casting q dark, scmi-circular shadow.
AS the eye reached farther away the
hills seemed to become lost and gradu-
ally melt into one another, but the
shadows remained, making u landscape
OF shadows-half shadows, half sun
light The shadows lay thick and reg
,'lar over the sandy waste, as if some
giant had gonfe. f.! oyer tbs whale G8HAlggXX
the landscape regularly with dark
blotches. Their edges almost met.
with only tracery of sunlight dividing
them. In time the view would have
grown monotonous, but then it was
strange, unique. bcwildcring. II was
Silence and Dcsolation lying at ones
feet with the soft afternoon sun-a little
rcdder than usual, little more like
Indian sumlncr-ilooding it with a h:zy
light and gradually sinking lower and
lower, while the shadows rose higher
and higher.
Some little distance away could sec
a couple Of the antelopcs had started
after, on top OF one Of the hills, gazing
toward me with mild surprise at the
fact that | thought l was going to get
them. Sitting half way up the side Of
almost the next hill was IL lean and
hungry coyote. At the foot of the one
where stood lay scattered the bones of
two or three buifalocs, half buried in
the sand, with their white. spectral
looking skulls and black horns. The
rest was s;lnd-sand, and shadows, and
silence.
My pony stood with her feet buried in
the sand watching the wolf. Nothing
stirred, II seemed as if Icould feel the
silence. 1t pressed down and around
1t was everywhere. | wondered how
far into the edges of this dessert the
noises of the world without penetrated
l spoke and it sounded like IL voice
from behind the next sand dunc-fUm
some one unseen. 1t was strangc-this
deep silence--and as the shadows crept
gradually up the hills the whole scene
became weird. 1t seemed as if was in
a labyrinth OF shadows-s in among
the shadows by silcnce-and gradually
l began to doubt whether there was
such Il thing as direction or distance
only shadows, and more shadows, and
a dead, heavy, almost painful silence.
l wondered if there was ever any sound
here or if-but there was-thc silence
was broken by flock Of s;lndhifl cranes
flying over so farabove that they looked
but little more than spccks, but the
tapping of their wings came clear and
distinct. Then a. little burrowing owl
flew out OF the next shadow towards the
sun and Tapped its way slowly around
another hill, and the coyote went in
what appeared to me would be IL rather
fruitess pursuit, and the antclopcs
bounded away, looking no bigger than
rabbits as they disappeared among the
hills and shadows.
There w:ls no limit to the view hills
and shadows, shadows and hills. as far
US the eye could reach and, far be-
yond. 1t was fifty miles to the east be-
fore the fertile country was encoun-
tered; almost as far to the west. The
sand hills stretched away one hundred
and twenty miles to the south: don't
know how far to the north--it was not
above two miles to the line between Ne
braskl and Dakota, and beyond that
was the great Sioux Indian Rcserva-
tion, reaching away TO the north almost
three hundred miles. 1t made little
difference how far the sand extended.
this was equally wild and uninhabitetl
| whether IL WAS n desert on n fertile.