OH, SHOOT! 



or new tasks became necessary, we unani- 

 mously elected Eddie to do them. 



To yachtsmen cruising in west Mexican 

 waters, gasoline is a problem, for it is scarce 

 and poor and commands about the same price 

 as the best grade of contraband alcoholic 

 beverages. When our boat sailed, her tanks 

 were full, her decks crowded with steel drums, 

 and her cabins packed with case goods. She 

 smelled like a dry-cleaning establishment and 

 was anything but an ideal retreat for a bunch 

 of tobacco fiends. 



Pettis and I were considered of less value 

 than our weight in gasoline; so we went by 

 train to Guaymas, the most northerly town on 

 the Gulf of California, picking up my brother 

 en route. 



The Southern Pacific of Mexico, a subsidiary 

 of our Southern Pacific, at this time ran three 

 passenger trains a week in and out of Mexico, 

 connecting with the main system at Nogales, 

 Arizona, a town built astride the international 

 border, and this intermittent schedule served 

 a double purpose: not only did it allow the 

 border customs officials more time in which to 

 harass, humiliate, and annoy travelers, but 

 also it made life easier for the Yaqui Indians. 



222 



