Life in the Sierra Madre 217 



on a more brilliant glow and blazed like electric lights. 

 The trees in the upper ranges bent and bowed before 

 the blast, branches were beaten to the ground, and oc- 

 casionally the crash of limb or trunk came down the 

 wind, or the roar of some avalanche of gravel where 

 the rain had loosened the soil, and sent it crashing down 

 the mountainside. Reaching its climax with roar and 

 wild acclaim, the wind suddenly ceased, to come on 

 again with renewed force. Such winds are the most 

 dangerous and blow in a clear sky without rain ; they 

 come in over the ranges from the north, sweep in 

 through the passes, as the Cajon, and in the form of 

 sand-storms fill certain sections with dust that is carried 

 miles out to sea, where I have seen it coming on, a vast, 

 ominous deep-red cloud. 



The rain-storms in the mountains fill the streams 

 with melody and the forest thrills with ten thousand vi- 

 brant notes. The roar and cadence of the greater falls, 

 the ripple over rocky beds, the wild sweep and surge of 

 rain or sheets of water against granite cliffs, and the wail 

 of the wind as it rises and gives rein to its fancy, 

 sweeping over the ridges, rushing down into the canons, 

 through the chaparral, on in sheets and rivers, bending 

 great trees and snapping off the dead wood, are all 

 features in the splendid setting of the forest stage. 



By such a storm I was isolated in the mountains for 

 several days ; the ordinarily peaceful streams became 

 violent rivers; Millard Canon, the Arroyo Seco, and 

 Negro Cafion were impassable, and at its height I 



