BOREGO SPRINGS TO LOS COYOTES 221 



could only be attacked from the air. Thus, the wild 

 desert bees find the agave their best means of sup- 

 port. 



The brush became heavier as we made our way 

 up the canon, until at one spot I counted, close to- 

 gether, ocotillo, agave, desert willow, smoke- tree, 

 cat-claw, and the two kinds of mesquit. We were 

 both on the lookout for water, and when a faint 

 trickle showed above ground Kaweah made for it 

 at once, sucking up a mixture of sand and liquid as 

 if it were nectar of the finest tap. I was not much 

 more particular, for the water in the canteen was too 

 hot to be pleasant. 



There is said to be a trail up this canon, but it 

 was beyond my skill to follow it. Evening found us 

 entering a jungle of arrowweed and mesquit. In this 

 we struggled for an hour, hoping to fight a way 

 through into clearer country. The last daylight left 

 us at an impassable place, the creek close by, but 

 running in a deep channel with perpendicular walls, 

 impossible for Kaweah to descend. We turned and 

 stumbled back for a mile in the darkness, Kaweah 

 getting badly snagged more than once on stumps 

 of mesquit. When we could cross the creek I turned 

 upstream looking for a place to camp. 



Reaching a sandy opening among willows I 

 stopped and off- saddled, gave Kaweah a hearty 

 feed, and ate my bread and cheese by starlight. 

 Breakfast had been my last meal, sixteen hours 

 before. It was delicious to lie listening to the ripple 

 of the creek and hearing Kaweah nibble about. 

 These moments gain charm in proportion to their 



