BILLY BOB-TAIL, THE HERMIT 

 WOOD RAT 



(Neotoma irftermedia desertorum) 



I 



THE wind, that had spent the whole of its 

 energies since sun-up blowing the sand in great 

 sweeps across the oasis desert village, only 

 seemed to redouble its efforts as the sun sank 

 in redness below the western rim of the San 

 Jacintos. It was no night for even the hardened 

 prospector to lie out in his blankets, and I 

 sought the shelter of my little shanty, hoping 

 that, though I must literally chew sand all 

 night (for it sifted into the house through every 

 crack), I should at least be able to keep covers 

 over me. t 



But soon after midnight the wind, that had 

 seemed to know no stopping, dropped, and a 

 stillness, that made itself conspicuous through 

 mere contrast with the wind-furious sound of 

 the early evening, now came on. As I lay there 

 in the quiet, breathing once more the clear, 

 good air, there came a break in the silence. 



