LANCE of the long approach, the road that runs straight at the thrones of the elders. He appeareth as a black ribbon laid across the gilded desert, miles of it without a turn, aimed at the distant gathered buttes as an arrow is aimed; the dark sky above seems to deepen in the direction of travel. His office is to teach the pilgrim the size of the country: the thrones stand plain in view from the first step and grow no nearer for an hour, and the road offers no comfort but its own straightness. All deserts guard their elders behind distance. The arriving, when at last it comes, feels earned — which was the desert’s purpose all along.
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