April i, 1907 ] 



THE INDIA RUBBER WORLD 



205 



A Journey Through Guayule Land— II. 



By the Editor of "The India Rubber World.' 



THE TRIP IN DETAIL. 



WHEN out has a bad cold and it is raw and snowy in New 

 York, the prospect of a visit to the Southland is most 

 agreeable. Those were the conditions when, bundled in 

 winter clothing. I boarded the train and made my start. The next 

 morning, at breakfast somewhere in Ohio, we were two hour.? 

 late, with the outlook dreary, for the fields were still snow cov- 

 ered, the sky cloudy, and the air full of a chilly fog. We dined 

 in Indiana, and although we lost the snow there, the clouds, the 

 fog, and the leafless trees, together with the flat muddy stretches 

 of country, did not cause the joy of spring to course through our 

 veins. \Vi' rLa.lied St. I.miis three hours late, but through the 



Mounted Men' Prospecting for Guavule. 



assistance of the "ushers," called porters elsewhere, caught our 

 train and felt at last as if the start was made. 



The next morning, as we cautiously ran through Arkansas, 1 

 made the acquaintance of Mr. W. T. Selleck, a brother of H. D. 

 Selleck, of New York, well known as the holder of important 

 rubber concessions in South America. Although a Mexican min- 

 ing man, he knew much of guayule, and we put in a pleasant fore- 

 noon discussing it. Reaching San Antonio, Texas, it was quite 

 springlike and I began to consider summer clothing Before I 

 reached the point of changing, however, a "norther" came up and 

 I was glad to remain clad as I was. Did 1 mention that we were 

 seven hours late reaching San Antonio? That, together with 

 the bad buffet service, was the first real suggestion that we were 

 nearing the land of manana. Down through the flat plains of 

 Texas, by dun colored adobes, through vast stretches where only 

 the mesquite grows, we crawled toward Laredo. At Pearsall the 

 engine gave out and we waited four hours for anotlier. Sitting 

 on the freight platform, with the hot sun baking my knees and 

 the chill of the norther in the back of my neck. I was approached 

 by a passenger of solemn and respectable mien who saved me 

 from death, through weariness, although he didn't know it. He 

 had a mine, with stock to sell, which he broached latc". But as a 

 preliminary, and to prove his absolute honesty in word and deed, 

 he told of adventures with Indians and bad men. of peril from 

 fire and flood, of mineral discoveries and development, until 1 

 knew that he was a genuine Buffalo Bill and John Hays Ham- 

 mond combined. He was, I think, about to show me his collec- 

 tion of knife wounds, bullet holes, and samples of ore. wlien I 



heard guayule mentioned by a man near by and, therefore, broke 

 away. I am sorry now, for if my memory serves me right $100 

 worth of that stock would be worth within two years $563,247.13. 



Talk about your luck ! 



The guayule mention came from another American who lived 

 across the border and who asserted with all confidence that the 

 white sage of Colorado, known as the "winter cattle feed," was 

 one and the same with the plant from which the rubber was ob- 

 tained. He said that he had extracted rubber from it himself, 

 and gave me addresses of Colorado men who could substantiate 

 his story. 



When the new engine at last arrived we entered the smoker 

 ,111(1 continued the conversation in the presence of a very hilarious 

 bunch of Shriners on a pilgrimage to Mexico City. Then came up 

 the question of the discovery of the rubber in the plant. The 

 solemn man, he of the stab wounds and bullet holes, believed that 

 the shrub chewing Indians first made it known. The Shriners, on 

 the other band, held that the rubber eating goat should have the 

 lionor. Indeed, before w-e parted they [iromised to have a hard 

 rubber tablet set into the wall of a shrine in Colorado adorned 

 with the following: 



THE RUBBER GO.\T. 



Patter, patter, little feet, 



As you search for food to cat, 

 Cactus, sage brush, cast-off shirt. 



Nothing could your stomach hurt, 

 'Till you browsed on gray guayule. 



Which it killed you. pronto, truly. 

 And it was your prompt post mortem 



That, and nothing else, that taught 'em 

 How to take this desert shruber 



And turn it into d good rubber. 



Thus your masters' fortune win. 



Just because you "butted in." 



MEXICO REACKED. 

 These and other pleasantries helped time to fly until we reached 

 Laredo at 10 P. M., crossed the Rio Grande at 11, and, after a 

 brief examination of luggage and an exchange of our money into 

 Mexican on a basis of 2 for I, we felt that really we were in the 

 rubber land. To be sure, it w-as cold and everyone was coughing, 



Ke.st kuk Lunch in Gu.wule L.xnd. 



