208 THE STORY OF A BIRD LOVER 



view the panorama of the Santa Catalinas, stretch- 

 ing just to the north, only some twelve or fifteen 

 miles away, bald, naked, and monumental against 

 the sky. 



From Tucson a journey of six hours on horse- 

 back will bring the rider into the valley of the 

 Rio San Pedro; another hour will suffice to 

 reach that stream. The whole northern slope is 

 now revealed, and may be ascended by the rider 

 to the grand pine woods on the very summit of 

 these stately mountains. The panorama when 

 the outer edge of the forest is approached is in- 

 spiring. The precipice descends abruptly to the 

 plain at the base of the range. The general 

 aspect of the scene below is desert-like. Tucson, 

 with its clustering shade trees and cultivated 

 fields, forms an oasis in the foreground. Then 

 the waste stretches far away to the south, bounded 

 only by high ranges. Towering above all, on the 

 very horizon, yet clearly defined in the wonderful 

 prevailing atmosphere, almost two hundred miles 

 away, are some of the mighty peaks of the Sierra 

 Madre of Mexico. The variety of light and shade 

 serves to enhance the air of mystery and grandeur 

 which prevails. 



