:::::::::C THE MESQUITE WILDERNESS m::::::::: 



Sparrow not ten feet away lay ruffled and torn in the 

 centre o£ a tiny thorn weed, where it had in some way 

 become entangled, and its succeeding struggles only 

 bound it the tighter. The vanguard of the million ants 

 which soon would overrun the little ball of bedraggled 

 feathers was already on the scene with antennae playing 

 eagerly, while a few couriers were speeding nestward 

 at topmost speed to spread the news. 



As we approached the little gorge which the falling 

 stream had carved for itself down the side of the great 

 harranca, several Wilson Snipe sprang up, with a harsh 

 note, from the dense undergrowth of watercress, and 

 zigzagged out of sight. They had been feeding on the 

 small snails and worms in the brook-bed. If their fare 

 was as toothsome and tender as we found the cress, 

 their hesitation in taking to wing was not without 

 reason. The water-loving plants were here as large as 

 lettuce and yet most delicate. 



It was late afternoon as we seated ourselves on the 

 brow of the great chasm and watched the shadow creep 

 slowly up toward us, first darkening the semi-tropical 

 underofrowth near the bottom. Slowlv but surely it 

 came, dulling the boulders and flowing like a phan- 

 tom tide of darkness along the ancient lines of beaches 

 which for age upon age have watched the silver stream 

 at the bottom cutting its way ever deeper, leaving 

 their wave-worn nakedness ever farther upward. 



Suddenly over our heads and on each side poured 



<4 103 #* 



