THE PALM OASES AND CANONS 25 



ing rocks that formed at best a nominal roof, and 

 cascades ran picturesquely down the walls. The 

 floor was a mere bog. Only a space about three feet 

 square was free from overhead drip, and on this 

 islet I built a tiny fire over which I crouched in par- 

 tial shelter. I supposed it was near daybreak, but on 

 looking at my watch found it was eleven o'clock. 



I cherished that fire as few things are cherished 

 on this planet. When gusts blew the rain in upon it, 

 I covered it with my hat. When it sulked and sput- 

 tered because the bog encroached, I fed it with 

 splinters from my tripod. When the wind scattered 

 the cupful of embers, I scraped them up reverently 

 like a Parsee. At last I got a good blaze, made a billy 

 of coffee, and settled to the night's work of drying 

 myself, blankets, gun, camera, and "et caeteras." 



The storm maintained a headlong deluge which 

 did not moderate for a moment. The creek had risen 

 higher, and was making wild uproar as huge boul- 

 ders began to come down from the upper caiion, 

 thundering and bumping along like barrels tumbling 

 down a stairway. With the boulders went the trees. 

 The one to which Kaweah had been tied (a full- 

 grown sycamore) had disappeared soon after I 

 moved him. Only by a few minutes had he escaped 

 going with it. Now I watched tree after tree suc- 

 cumb. First their tops, which showed dimly against 

 the sky, would begin to shiver as the water tore 

 away the earth like a terrier at a rat-hole: then as 

 roots broke from their grip the victim stooped lower 

 and lower, until water and granite between them 

 gave the coup-de- grace, and the unlucky alder or 



