PINON WELL TO MECCA 159 



canon where every hillside had a metallic look at 

 the most casual glance. Everywhere were prospect 

 holes, or deeper workings where the mountain had 

 spewed out piles of glittering gray rock. Here and 

 there were scraps of machinery, old windlasses and 

 boilers, dragged here at enormous expense, now 

 mere rusty monuments to the ruling passion ; though, 

 to be fair, one must say to man's energy, hardihood, 

 and determination, as well. 



The stony track made rough going for Kaweah. 

 Fortunately I had had him shod (a new experience 

 for him, though he was rising nine when I bought 

 him) at Indio, in anticipation of the rocky country 

 we should meet in the mountains. I was glad when 

 the cafion opened southward upon a wide plain, a 

 dozen miles or more across, through which the road 

 ran straight to vanishing point. The sun was unusu- 

 ally severe; the scanty vegetation gave no relief to 

 the eye ; and all there was of variety for mile on mile 

 was the alternation of glaring sand with darker 

 pavement-like stretches that reflected the sun gleam 

 with added intensity. The air was in a tremor of 

 heat, and under my sombrero my eyes ached so 

 that I often closed them and left Kaweah to pilot 

 us alone. Sometimes I dismounted and walked in 

 order to relieve him, but this was a signal for him 

 to slacken his pace to almost a standstill ; so having 

 no mind to drag half a ton of horseflesh I soon 

 mounted again, whereat he sighed, eyed me with 

 soft reproach, and stood waiting till a touch of the 

 spur urged him to a spiritless shufile. 



Still far to the east rose the Cockscombs, ghostlike 



