i64 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



up just in time to escape being trampled by a pair 

 of horses that failed to see me until they were almost 

 on me, when they reared and backed on the heavy 

 wagon. It was the owner of that hay, come at mid- 

 night as if to avenge his wrongs. At the moment, 

 that seemed to be his mood when he heard my story: 

 but in the morning he felt better about it, and be- 

 came quite friendly when he pocketed his scanda- 

 lous overcharge. 



Sunrise found us on the move down the cafion, in 

 shadow of high walls from which came ever and anon 

 the haunting call of the caiion wren, as charming as 

 that other 



"Sweet bird, that shun'st the noise of folly, 

 Most musical, most melancholy." 



The air in these desert cafions at early morning, 

 before the sun shines in, is about the finest in the 

 world, cool, light, mildly energizing, pure as the 

 upper ether. It was enchanting to ride in ease and 

 shade, not now too wearied to feel the finer glory of 

 the sun-ray as it roused the dull tone of common 

 rock into living flush of color, kindled the upper clifif 

 to a beacon flame, trimmed each coping and pin- 

 nacle with tremulous fire. The cafion sides here were 

 high and precipitous, and weathered at the top into 

 fantastic confusion. Outlined with toppling crags 

 and turrets on an almost overhead skyline were 

 spectral yuccas and ocotillos, their rigid shapes fully 

 in keeping with the crude rock forms among which 

 they appeared. 



In the caiion bottom a few palo verdes were still 

 in blossom, along with desert willow and cat-claw. 



