180 NATURE-STUDY REVIEW [14:5— May, 1918 



In the southwestern part of our country there is a great stretch 

 of arid land, of which most of us know little except that it is 

 called the Great American Desert or the "American Sahara". 

 There are over two hundred thousand square miles of this sun- 

 shine, drought, shifting sand, and purple mist, all of it immensely 

 rich in minerals, alkali products, marbles, and semi-precious 

 stones. Small wonder that men are lured into the heart of it! 

 Though it is crossed here and there by railroads and much of 

 it is quite well-known and well-traveled, on the other hand there are 

 great unknown out-of-the-way stretches (for instance, the Cali- 

 fornia Death Valley, that most arid of all spots, yet beautiful 

 beyond all powers of description) which are rich in every variety 

 of wealth except the mainstay of life in these desert wastes — water. 

 It is with these especially dangerous places that our story deals. 



The terrors of this country are many. Once in it, there are 

 hardships always to endure — the merciless blistering sun, suffocat- 

 ing blinding sandstorms, the ever present menace of "side-winders" 

 and other poisonous things, the danger of drinkng poisoned 

 water or of having none at all, for of water there is little. What 

 there is is scattered in wells or "tanks" from thirty-five to fifty 

 miles apart. Much of this scanty supply is unfit for use — poisoned 

 by saturation with strong alkali or contaminated by snakes, 

 lizards, kangaroo-mice or coyotes which may have fallen into it. 

 Many a thirst-crazed man has reached such a water-hole only 

 to die from drinking from it. It was after many years of coming 

 upon grim evidences of suffering and particularly after a terrible 

 experience of being without water for three days and two nights 

 and then being rescued by his own dog that Lou Wescott Beck, 

 prospector and mining engineer* dedicated himself and his dog 

 to the work of rescue which has won for him the name of "The 

 Good Samaritan of Death Valley". For sixteen years he spent 

 many months of the year prospecting in this "Land that God 

 Forgot", but always turning aside to give aid wherever and 

 whenever it was needed. The later years of his life were devoted 

 entirely to rescue work, the fascination of prospecting having 

 lost itself in the more humanitarian interest. Each spring 

 found the master and his chosen companion wandering into the 

 silent places to direct travellers, alleviate suffering and rescue 

 the dying. This is how it happens that my Dog Hero has a 

 record of having saved thirty-two men who were in the last stages 



