To the Gulf of Cortez 



J. B. was a wonder. He seemed to enjoy 

 giving his fellow mortals the best breakfasts 

 and suppers — for we never had any midday 

 meals — that our supplies could furnish. Al- 

 ways rising at the first call, in the dark, some- 

 times with an accompaniment of snow or rain, 

 he managed the commissariat to perfection. 



I in my humble way packed and saddled 

 and did other necessary work, and Anastasio 

 regarded us with benevolent curiosity, though 

 always ready to get wood or water or mules 

 when we asked him to do so. 



We were now approaching the true desert. 

 This term is not restricted to the broad level 

 sand wastes along the Gulf, but includes the 

 arid and waterless mountains adjacent, and 

 this must be borne in mind when the Mex- 

 icans tell you that sheep are to be found in 

 the desert. 



We passed the last of the brushy hills, and, 

 crossing a small divide, came over slopes of 

 volcanic cinders to a little water spot with 

 dwarf willows and grass. This was our hunt- 

 ing camp. The country through which our 

 route had lain heretofore was altogether gran- 

 itic, though one could see hills apparently of 

 stratified material in the distance. Toward 



69 



