210 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



fallen to the lure, "followed the gleam"; and the 

 gleam had led them on and on, a little farther, to the 

 next rise, the canon beyond, till the terrible "bad 

 lands" had them locked in their scorching maze, 

 there to wander till, crazed and raving, they stag- 

 gered and fell : scrambled with frantic terror to their 

 feet and stumbled on (the thought of gold a fright- 

 ful mockery now) till they fell once more and did 

 not rise again. If ever the Peg-Leg Mine is found, it 

 would not be surprising if there are seen about it 

 the bleaching bones of the fortunate ones who 

 reached the goal. Then it should be renamed "The 

 Death's Head," and christened with the dregs of a 

 canteen of Seventeen Palms water. 



Kaweah and I kept Sunday very comfortably at 

 Borego Springs. For him there were mesquit beans 

 in plenty and even a picking of Bermuda grass: for 

 me, shade and the thought of a bad piece of country 

 in my rear: for us both, good, cool, abundant water. 

 A road-runner came round several times to make 

 sure his eyes were not playing him false : lizards with 

 iridescent head and throat crept down the roasting 

 boards and watched me with cunning reptilian stare : 

 a few finches cheeped and twittered — the friendli- 

 est sound I had heard for days. 



A tour of the immediate neighborhood showed 

 the usual incidents of these old camps — cascades 

 of cans, scraps of rawhide, horseshoes, rock speci- 

 mens, and stove-in canteens. The corral-gate was 

 decorated with the skull of a steer, a satirical object 

 for the famishing cattle as they shoved their way to 

 the water-trough. Among the names scrawled here 



