PALM SPRINGS TO SEVEN PALMS 93 



where it had been laboriously placed: either some 

 rare, long-continued winter storm, or, more likely, 

 a sudden summer flood. A glance at the surrounding 

 mountains makes the matter plain. Figure the cer- 

 tain effect of a heavy fall of water on those two- 

 mile-high walls of almost barren rock. Like raging 

 giants the floods come leaping down, torrent reen- 

 forcing torrent, and burst roaring from the caiion 

 gateways. What work of man's hands could with- 

 stand that assault, even when the shock is weakened 

 by miles of distance? In the path of these desert 

 floods a railroad might as well be a bit of fish -line. 

 Here, at any rate, as I said to Kaweah, who stood 

 with pricked ears, pondering at the sight, the age of 

 horseflesh is not yet gone by. 



Partly hidden among dunes of sand bristling with 

 a scrub of mesquit, there is an oasis and a pleasant 

 group of palms. Its name, dating from bygone 

 decades, is Seven Palms, but there are now a score 

 or so of the trees scattered about the place. A cow- 

 boy acquaintance of mine years ago " homesteaded " 

 the spot, captured by the charms of a patch of dingy 

 salt-grass, a pool of barely drinkable water, and un- 

 limited quail, rabbits, snipe, and duck. Perhaps he 

 had also an eye for a landscape which might move 

 the toughest of "punchers" to admiration. His 

 cabin, sheds, and corral, almost lost in the jungle of 

 arrowweed, made up the picture of a typical desert 

 home, and three slender palms, in shadow cameo 

 upon an amethystine sunset, gave the touch of per- 

 fection which is seldom far from the commonplace. 



I made camp under a cluster of palms that grew 



