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To the south dreary wastes of sand, glistening white under the burnished sun and crowned with clumps of grayish green sage-brush, stretched to an encircling rim of hills. Cacti and yucca palms broke the monotony of the roll of the plains to the uplands. Sahuaroes towered over the low station, which was built in the style of the old Spanish missions.
Punchers accompany them to feed and water the beasts on the trip. They help turn them into the pens. It is dawn in the valley of the Sweetwater. The spring rains have freshened the verdure of the plain. Clumps of coarse grass fringe the river's brink. Cacti and Spanish bayonets nod in the morning breeze, which sweeps down from the mountains. Yucca palms and sahuaroes glisten with the dew.
Through the arbor a glimpse of the Tortilla Mountains, forty miles away, held the eye. The Sweetwater, its path across the plains outlined by the trees fringing its banks, flowed past the ranch. Yucca palms and sahuaroes threw a scanty shade over the garden. Shortly after the arrival of the Allens in Arizona they were blessed with a daughter, the first white child born in that region.
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