: MECCA TO FIGTREE JOHN i8i 



The Indian patriarch of these parts Is old Juan 

 Razon, or, as he Is better known, "FIgtree John." 

 In former times he lived, far from whites and other 

 Indians, at a spot a few miles to the south. It Is to 

 be known by a few fig trees and Is marked on 

 Government maps as FIgtree John Springs. When 

 the Salton Sea submerged his little estate he moved 

 to another spot, called Agua Dulce, on somewhat 

 higher ground. I already had a slight acquaintance 

 with him, and was pleased now to meet him as he 

 was leading his horse to water. When I had sur- 

 rendered the can of tobacco with which I had come 

 prepared, he Invited me to share a watermelon with 

 him at his house. I hastened to agree to this excel- 

 lent Idea. The mellowest sandia was brought from 

 his little patch and bisected with a rusty hatchet, 

 and we sat In shade of the ramada and chatted while 

 the cooling hemispheres rapidly melted away. To 

 my regret, Mrs. John was coy and would not join 

 us, nor would a huge girl who gloomily watched 

 the melon's effacement through peepholes In the 

 brush partition. 



From a chummy, almost fraternal, tone, John 

 became impressive. An old satchel was produced, 

 and proved to contain archives that revealed my 

 friend In higher roles. First was a photograph, ten- 

 derly wrapped, of himself en cavalier, wearing a 

 police uniform the feature of which, apart from a 

 certain roominess of fit, was its double rows of 

 gleaming buttons. The severity of a stove-pipe hat 

 gave effect to an attitude of martial rigidity which 

 he had thought proper on the occasion of being 



