THE FORESTS ASD DESERTS 01' ARIZONA 215 



imaginable, the celebrated Garden of the Gods in Colorado lieing 

 an insignificant imitation only. The manifold, curious, wind- 

 carved shapes of the red sandstone rocks rising abruptly from 

 the ground, contrasted with the green of the surrounding plain, 

 are worth a long journey to see. The few who have visited this 

 secluded valley will also not forget the remarkabh? bouquet an<l 

 aroma of the grape, raised by one of the more enterprising ranch- 

 ers on these sun-warmed sand bottoms, whi(;h pnnnises some 

 day to outrank the finest vintage of Bordeaux. 



Presently a wide view opens before our eyes ; far below us 

 stretches Verde valley, and we are looking over the rim intotlie 

 borderland of the southern desert region. In red and white 

 and yellow and 1)rown tints glare the arid gravels, studded tiiinly 

 wdth a scant, shrubby vegetation, dr}'- and gray. The fresh, bright 

 green spots that catch the eye we find afterward to he groups of 

 opuntias, large prickly pears, whose red, acid fruit we appre- 

 ciate later in the season, after we have learned how to avoid 

 the prickles which almost invisibly cover them in small tufts. 

 Among the trees, the first we meet is a peculiar, leafless, shrub- 

 like form, with long, slender, green branches, the falsely so-calle<l 

 paloverde, Cunotla holacantha of the botanists. The majority of 

 the shrubs of the brush desert belong to the Acacia tribe, all with 

 symmetrically rounded heads, and, like every otiier plant here, 

 provided with thorns or spines, the peculiar adaptation to desert 

 conditions making the labors of the collector a hard task. Many 

 unfamiliar plant forms excite the curiosity of the new-comer. 



We have suddenly dropped to the 3,000-foot level, and begin 

 to feel the difference in temperature; the canteen is often called 

 into requisition. By-and-by the heat of the early afternoon sun 

 leads us to wish that camp were near. Uncertain of the road, 

 we ascend one of the glaring, white limestone hills, and lo ! what 

 an unexpected sight meets our eye. The contrast is so great that 

 we think a mirage must liave risen to mock, our heated brain. 

 There lies at our feet, stretching away for several miles, a land of 

 green vegetation, rich and luscious as in the most fiivored si>ots 

 of the Alleghanies in early summer, a l)road river of foliage, in- 

 terrupted here and there by fields of alfalfa and corn, with 

 orchards from which the red roofs peep out hos[)itably. We are 

 looking into the valley of Beaver creek, one of the aflluents of 

 Rio Verde, which, like all these water-courses, hidden away under 

 a dense cover of deciduous trees, are the surprises of tiie (leserts 

 through which they flow, and furnish the water for the irrigated 

 fields of the rancher. 



