Pevieir of Bevieus, 1112/13. 



LEADING ARTICLES. 



991 



THE GOOD SAMARITAN OF DEATH VALLEY. 



A fascinating stor)' of hunian service 

 under dramatic circumstances is told by 

 Howard C. Kegley, in the " Interesting 

 People " department in the " American 

 Magazine." It is the stor\- of Lou 

 Wescott Beck and his dog Rufus, and 

 is worthy of the annals of the Alonks of 

 St. Bernard. This man Beck and Rufus 

 have saved scores of lives during the 

 past ten years. But we will let Mr. 

 Kegley tell the story in his own words. 



Time was when Beck was a plain 

 prospector in the Cripple Creek coun- 

 try. He was in on the diggings at 

 Leadville, and he ])anned around in 

 Montana awhile. Likewise he rushed 

 into the Big Horn at the time of the 

 mineral strike there, but he never struck 

 a lead that made him rich. Eventuall\- 

 he drifted down through Nevada and 

 into Death Valley, chasing rainbows 

 Wild rumours about " Death \^alle)- " 

 Scotty's big find in that section electri- 

 fied the country, and scores of pros- 

 pectors rushed into the desert, expecting 

 to make their fortune in a few days. 

 Beck was " among those present." 



There were several in Beck's part)'. 

 They hiked many miles through the 

 mirage land, finding nothing worth 

 while, and worr}nng constantly lest the\- 

 exhaust their supply of water. For two 

 days they sought water holes ; and when 

 out of water they went for hours with 

 tongues swollen and lips parched from 

 want of moisture. Then when death 

 seemed inevitable they suddenly dis- 

 covered a tiny stream trickling out of a 

 canyon at the base of the Panamint 

 Mountains. 



When Beck returned to civilisation he 

 was a changed man. He had seen sands 

 that were strewn with skulls, and that 

 sight had put a big idea into his head. 



Came spring, and Beck made another 

 trip through Death Valley. At his side 

 was a Newfoundland dog. The pros- 

 pector carried a bundle of tin strips. 

 They were signboards to guide the wan- 

 derers' steps aright. 



Each summer since then the pros- 

 pector and his dog have made a journe)' 

 to the land of the purple mist, piling up 

 rocks and attaching signs to them. 



searching for lost travellers and inci- 

 dentally keeping a lookout for a piece 

 of precious metal. Once or twice Rufus 

 has led his master to prospectors who, 

 after long suffering from thirst, had 

 fallen upon the burning sands to die. 

 In signboarding the desert Beck has 

 saved a number of thirst-mad rainbow- 

 chasers, and has also, in remote districts, 

 stumbled upon the bleaching bones of 

 dead men who may have found fortunes 

 in the silver sulphuret district, but who 

 did not live to tell the world about it. 

 At one time he assisted at the burial of 

 four men who died of thirst within two 

 miles of a spring. 



The country that Beck traverses is the 

 most arid section of the American con- 

 tinent — a dreary stretch of hundreds of 

 miles of desert, dotted here and there 

 with foothills, buttes, dry creek beds, 

 chaparral, prickly pear, and sagebrush. 

 Springs are miles upon miles apart. 

 Most of them are bitterly alkali, and 

 some are poison. One finds an occa- 

 sional coyote well, but they are not 

 numerous, especially when sought. 



Very little animal life exists in the 

 desert. Always there is the crafty 

 coyote and the kangaroo mouse. Aside 

 from them, put down the chuckwalla 

 and the side-winder. The side-winder 

 is a dusty-looking little snake, scarcely 

 more than a foot long, yet nearly as 

 deadly as his big brother, the diamond- 

 back rattler. As a protection against 

 snake-bite. Beck has his dog wear boots 

 which lace up the legs. Before donning 

 boots, the dog was bitten several times 

 and barely escaped with his life. 



On an ordinary summer afternoon 

 the thermometer runs up to about 134 

 degrees in the shade out in Death Val- 

 ley, and the most unpleasant thing about 

 it is that there is a dearth of shade. 

 W hen man ventures out upon this track- 

 less expanse, the sliimmering heat dazes 

 him, the scarcity of water crazes him, 

 and the mirage — treacherous, Ivin.^ 

 thing of beauty that it is — looms ever 

 before him, flashing upon the canvas of 

 his mind's e\'e a verdant valley, gor- 



eeousb 



'■reen with growing things. 



fresh with flowers, wet with water, and 



