TO THOUSAND PALM CANON 97 



hard to keep fire enough together to boil my billy 

 of tea. 



A few swallows were racing about, like little in- 

 carnations of joy. A prospector who is a frequent 

 camper here had told me that they built their nests 

 against the smooth boles of the palms, and I looked, 

 but without success, for this example of the skill of 

 the jolly little masons. 



Kaweah showed more than his usual alacrity 

 when I led him in to be Saddled, and we took our 

 way again northward. There was no trail, but none 

 was needed, for after a mile or two we came in sight 

 of the two palm groups, conspicuous objects against 

 the light ochre of the foothills. In recent years a few 

 land-hungry settlers have come into this region and 

 are engaged in what seem, to my judgment, pathetic 

 attempts at farming. Lack of water is, of course, the 

 first obstacle, and almost certainly a fatal one. Sur- 

 face water, sufficient for household use, is easily got 

 in most parts, but this may be counted a misfortune, 

 since it merely makes possible a losing fight. Next 

 stands the poor quality of the soil, which, with the 

 exception of a patch here and there, is much too 

 light to produce crops, except of one of two kinds 

 that could only succeed by means of copious irriga- 

 tion. It is possible that wells sunk to sufficient depth 

 would yield a good supply, but there the checkmate 

 comes in: it is the poor man who clutches at poor 

 land, better being beyond his means (a truism that 

 has special point in this State of booms and fantastic 

 valuations) : while, per contra, the sole chance of 

 productiveness with such land lies in a heavy initial 



