224 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



being in cattle country, though one may travel for 

 many a day and see no cattle, to say nothing of 

 implied mankind. 



I went back for Kaweah and my traps, and moved 

 to this better camp, where I resolved to stay for a 

 day. As I passed the cabin I heard some one exclaim, 

 "Well, I '11 be (so-and-so), here's a man at last! Who 

 are you, anyway?" I glanced in and saw a big fellow 

 stretched on the ramshackle bed that half filled the 

 place. He excused himself from rising on the score 

 of having "durned near worn his feet off yesterday, 

 clambering over these eternal mountains," but hos- 

 pitably told me to come in and share the casa, add- 

 ing, "There was a rattler around here a while ago, 

 but I reckon he's maybe left by now." 



When I had accounted for myself, my new ac- 

 quaintance reciprocated with the statement that he 

 was Thomas McSandy (the name was not exactly 

 that) for the present a prospector, and that he had 

 been "grub-staked" by a Los Angeles friend who 

 was acquainted with a man whose brother (then in 

 an insane asylum) knew of a gem mine, the location 

 of which, as described to some official of the asylum, 

 was supposed to be somewhere hereabout. On this 

 hopeful quest he had been searching the surrounding 

 country, and his "stake" of grub being about ex- 

 hausted, he had given up the job and was striking 

 out next day for home by way of Warner's Ranch. 



The gullibility of mankind with regard to lost 

 mines or buried treasure is staggering indeed. The 

 number and giddiness of these wild-goose chases 

 amount to a phenomenon. No story is too unlikely, 



