198 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



for this economy was not that I feared running 

 short of water, but there is always the unforeseen 

 to be reckoned with. I found that this small but 

 regular ration kept me going, and I had already 

 accustomed myself to drink only for necessity, not 

 for comfort or luxury. 



The appearance of a sign-board (a fragment of 

 box-lid tied to a stake) raised hopes of a word as to 

 direction and distance. But whatever information 

 it may once have carried was gone as though it had 

 never been there. Sun had bleached and sand had 

 scoured till not a mark could be made out. This 

 sort of thing is as aggravating as a practical joke. 

 I was tempted to kick the thing sky high, but re- 

 frained when I reflected that it might be named as a 

 landmark to some future traveller. 



At last appeared, miles away to northwest, a few 

 dots that showed black against the pale yellow foot- 

 hills. If they were palms they were my landmark. I 

 turned toward them: lost them and found them 

 again and again : but finally knew that they were my 

 palms; not my destination itself, but a guide to the 

 place. Tracks became more frequent and converged 

 toward a point in the clay hills that fringe Santa 

 Rosa's southern base. A faint trail grew out of 

 nothing, and led into a winding gallery of sand and 

 boulders, where strange wind-worn and sand-worn 

 clifl"s showed at every turn. The palms appeared 

 again, now close at hand; and in half an hour I 

 caught sight of another group (once, I suppose, 

 seventeen, but now only six or eight) that marked 

 our halting place for the day. 



