To the Gulf of Cortez 



age here in early times. About 3 o'clock in 

 the afternoon, we reached the only water spot 

 on the trail. Anastasio parted some withered 

 reeds, and, looking earnestly, said, " Dry." A 

 short distance further up, he repeated the 

 word, and yet again, till, at his fourth attempt, 

 he said, "Very little," and we camped. By 

 scraping away the mud and grass, we got a 

 small gravelly hole, and dipped out the slowly 

 seeping water, a cup at a time. We thus 

 managed to give each of the mules a little in 

 a pan, and to get a canteen full for cooking. 



Then I noticed Anastasio gathering wood, 

 which I thought at first was for general use, 

 but I found it was a private pile, to be used, so 

 to speak, for bedding. Anastasio did not take 

 the ax to secure his wood, but smashed off 

 mesquite branches with a rock or pulled out 

 some old root. He quite despised pinon and 

 juniper logs, saying they gave no heat — mean- 

 ing, probably, that they burned out too soon. 



We turned in soon after supper, and the 

 night was cold. Anastasio said he feared 

 snow. The reason for his fear was soon evi- 

 dent. My bed was about twenty feet from 

 Anastasio's, and during the night I would turn 

 and watch him. He carried but one small 



67 



