102 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



mind and declared to Kaweah that we 'd be hanged 

 if we would move so long as that state of things 

 lasted. So I off-saddled and lay all morning with 

 canteen at hand watching ominous clouds pile 

 higher and higher over San Jacinto, then spread 

 north and south over San Gorgonio and Santa Rosa. 

 A storm was certainly coming, one of those sudden 

 violent bursts that fall on this region at long inter- 

 vals in summer, brewed almost in an hour in the fur- 

 nace of the desert sky. A hundred yards in front of 

 me was a palm that had lately been struck by light- 

 ning, and was now a ghastly, headless stick, like a 

 skeleton finger pointing at its murderer the sky. At 

 Seven Palms I had seen others like it, carrying scars 

 that told the story. Being the only objects of height 

 on the desert the palms are naturally marked for 

 attack. The first boom of thunder seemed to be a 

 warning, but I could not bring myself to move. 



By noon a little freshness crept into the air, and I 

 gathered energy to eat my cheese and hardtack and 

 make a start. We were now at the back of the great 

 sand-hills, and I turned eastward toward where a 

 long gallery opened between them and the higher 

 San Bernardino extension ridge. The storm still held 

 off us and seemed to be pouring its wrath wholly on 

 the western highlands, a thing that often occurs, 

 resulting in those sudden floods of water from appar- 

 ently dry caiions that are so dreaded by desert men. 

 When the clouds extend in summer over the open 

 desert, rain may often be seen falling, yet never a 

 drop reach the earth, all being evaporated while 

 passing through the heated air. 



