60 THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 



heaviness of low altitudes rarely comes nigh us. 

 Sunstrokes and heat-prostrations are unknown, and 

 no matter to what height the thermometer may rise 

 later, the morning hours are as the very Dayspring 

 from on high, and around our rural retreat sings 

 all night the tempered breeze from east or south. I 

 have stood even at noon watering stock in the broil- 

 ing sun — and no one devoid of practical knowledge 

 is acquainted with the leisurely habits of the drink- 

 ing animal — having to mark time with my thinly 

 shod feet to keep them off the redhot ground, when 

 suddenly up has sprung the vivifying breeze of the 

 country, and at once I am cool, almost cold ! Conse- 

 quently the same given temperature at high altitude 

 and low altitude implies perhaps twenty degrees of 

 difference in one's feelings. 



As July approaches it behooves the farmer to 

 keep that weather eye, of which mention has been 

 made, very wide open. Let him pay no heed to the 

 man minus the aforesaid eye, or to the city dweller 

 whose mind is akin to a sieve. The Tenderfoot 

 in particular must beware of the latter, who may as- 

 sure him that there has been no rain for two or 

 three years. Watch the knowing ranchman's face 

 when such assertions are made by those whose 

 memories are of sieve-like quality. He has lost, and 

 he knows. Too vividlv his mind recalls many a 

 downpour of the previous summer, ruined 

 alfalfa and sodden cane — and erimlv he smileth. 

 Therefore is it incumbent on the ranching 

 person to take note. For instance, I sallv 

 forth some clear, exquisite July or August 



