The alkali plains, or deserts, as they are often erroneously called,
are great stretches of adobe soil, known as "dobie" by the natives. This
soil is a yellowish brown, or perhaps more of a gray color, and as fine
as flour. Water plays sad havoc with it, if the soil lies so as to
oppose the flow, and it moves like dust before a slight stream. On the
flat, hard-baked plains, the water makes no impression, but on a
railroad grade, be it ever so slight, the tendency is to dig pitfalls. I
have seen a little stream of water, just enough to fill the ditches on
each side of the track, take out all the dirt, and keep the ties and
track afloat until the water was gone, then drop them into a hole eight
or ten feet deep, or if the washout was short, leave them suspended,
looking safe and sound, to lure some poor engineer and his mate to
death.
Another peculiarity of these storms is that they come quickly, rage
furiously for a few minutes, and are gone, and their lines are sharply
defined. It is not uncommon to find a lot of water, or a washout,
within a mile of land so dry that it looks as if it had never seen a
drop of water.
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