134 CHANNEL ISLANDS OF CALIFORNIA 



back for many centuries, the black-stained earth show- 

 ing clearly, and broken shells and implements crop- 

 ping out every now and then. As we jogged along, 

 in a fox-trot, Mexican fashion, pieces of mortars, broken 

 pestles, portions of stone hammers, round stones, the 

 parts of some game, appeared and suggested that here 

 had been for ages a city of the San Clementeans, and 

 that the entire mesa had been scattered with the 

 refuse of the camp, which doubtless would well repay 

 the investigator or collector. 



San Clemente is one of the best conducted sheep 

 ranches in the country. Its eighteen or twenty miles 

 is laid out in various ranches. At one end, Don 

 Alonzo, a picturesque old Spaniard, held forth. Then 

 came Eagle Ranch, occupying the middle and western 

 portion of the island. As we entered its confines the 

 country became wilder, the trail narrower and more 

 winding. Now we passed near the sea, with moun- 

 tains rising to the east; then dropped into deep mys- 

 terious canons, or through cactus; everywhere a region 

 awful and fascinating in its desolation, calling to mind 

 the wonderful scenery of the moon. 



That San Clemente is the overflow of a great vol- 

 cano is very evident; we were shortly passing great 

 lava beds where the oozing rock had piled out into the 

 sea. Here was the home of the choya cactus, — a 

 terrible menace to horse and man; forests of it dotted 

 the slopes, and off the trail I often Hterally waded in 

 ice plant. Half-way down we came to a region so 

 arid that for miles it might have been a part of the 

 Hades of Dante, so weird and gruesome was the pic- 

 ture of desolation. The trail now led by the sea and 

 out around a great lava cape known as Cape Horn. 



