2i6 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



money or patience had given out, and the wagon 

 and tools were left to fall to pieces in the sun. I 

 heard afterwards that the outfit had come by the 

 same route that I had taken, but the men had lost 

 their way after passing Clay Point and had been 

 three days in reaching Seventeen Palms. 



Skulls and ribs of cattle, sometimes with shreds 

 of hide upon them, gave token that I was in cattle 

 country. Leg bones, being easy to manipulate by 

 those ghouls the coyotes, are generally hauled off 

 to a distance, but the skull and ribs with backbone 

 usually stay where the poor brute perished, and 

 coyotes, buzzards, and skunks repair again and 

 again to the feast until the ultimate remnant glis- 

 tens in the sun, a melancholy monument. There is 

 something specially ghastly about the ribs with 

 their hollow griddle look. Perhaps it is because of 

 the resemblance to the human skeleton in this detail 

 that the staring emptiness has a horror all its own : 

 one realizes the fragility of one's own frame, and 

 thinks, with a shock. What, am I such a drum! 



A speck of green that I had been watching for 

 half an hour revealed itself as the homestead of a 

 settler. Half hidden by a huge mesquit was a one- 

 room tent-house of fair size. It was surrounded by 

 half an acre or so of cultivated ground, all that was 

 possible with the feeble flow of water yielded by the 

 well. The man was away, but the barking of the dog 

 brought out his wife, a cheery little Devonshire 

 woman, who bade me be seated and "Rest, do ye 

 now." The first question was, "Have you brought 

 any mail?" and great was the disappointment when 



