TO PINON WELL 133 



ler. One feels that, without drinking constantly, one 

 would shrivel, and perceives with horror the fearful 

 nature of such an end as death from thirst. 



The track — it could on no terms be called a road 

 — after passing through an opening in the mud hills 

 at a point where curious caverns, pinnacles, and 

 arches occur, turned westerly into a long valley that 

 divides these foothills from the main mountain wall. 

 Silt was exchanged for sand and gravel, and the 

 vegetation changed automatically with it. Creosote, 

 burro-weed, and lippia made a scanty show, with 

 tufts of the interesting white "holly," which at this 

 season takes on pale tints of seashell pink and laven- 

 der, almost iridescent. The going became slower 

 than ever. I relieved Kaweah by walking, but there 

 was no amelioration for the straining team that now 

 could hardly keep way on their huge load, though 

 they were splendid animals and in the pink of condi- 

 tion. Looking at my watch I was astonished to find 

 it was only seven o'clock. I should have said we had 

 been five hours on the road. 



Little as there was of vegetation, there was still 

 less of animal life. Birds there were almost none, 

 for the distance to water ruled them out. Jack-rabbit 

 tracks came now and then, for Jack is almost a total 

 abstainer. Lizards there were, for they are every- 

 where; and I noted plentiful tracks of the dreaded 

 sidewinder, Crotalus cerastes. This is a small, asp- 

 like species of the ordinary rattlesnake, found most 

 often in the sandy or silty desert, whereas the larger 

 rattler likes rocky country and the neighborhood of 

 water. Two little protuberances over the eyes, like 



