256 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



pomoche, in view of the tendency to exaggeration in 

 such matters: but the story has come to me from 

 several sources. 



Two hours brought us to the edge of the bad- 

 lands, in the form of a deep, abrupt barra^ica, the 

 first of dozens through which we must thread our 

 way. In we dived: and, indeed, to plunge into one of 

 these mazes is much like diving into unknown water: 

 when, where, or whether one will get out is some- 

 what a matter of chance. In and out, up and down, 

 we went for hours, scrambling up and sliddering 

 down. Now and then we left the horses and climbed 

 out to get our bearings afresh. It was not reassuring 

 to see that Wellson was often at fault, though it was 

 natural, since he was gauging landmarks from an 

 unfamiliar side. 



We reached at length a rim from which we looked 

 out over a still more intricate piece of country. With 

 a sweep of the hand my companion remarked, 

 "There's the worst stretch of country I know, and 

 I know 'most all the bad layouts from Idaho down. 

 More men have got lost in that mess of stuff than 

 any other place I ever saw, and most of 'em are 

 there yet. Miner's Hell I call it, easy to get in and 

 the devil to get out. Well, I know where we are, 

 anyway. I wasn't sure before, but now there'll be 

 monuments, if we can find 'em, so I reckon we'll 

 get through." 



It was a remarkable sight. Imagine a cauldron of 

 molten rock, miles wide, thrown by earthquake 

 shock into the complexity of a choppy sea and then 

 struck immovable. Looking down on it one would 



