258 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



instead of exploring a certain part of Fish Creek 

 Mountain that Wellson wished to visit with an eye 

 to mineral. We found a smoke-tree and made the 

 most of its hypothetical shade while we ate lunch 

 and fed and rested the horses. Before going on we 

 gave them each half a bucket of water, which they 

 drank eagerly and asked for more; but it was im- 

 perative to ration the whole party more severely 

 than we had intended. A good deal had escaped 

 from the water-bags by leakage, though they had 

 been soaked all the previous day in the spring.^ 



We now entered the most striking part of the 

 gorge, which reminded me of Painted Canon, near 

 Mecca, which I described in an earlier chapter. The 

 cliffs here, though they have not the variety of color 

 of those in Painted Canon, are vertical, like them, 

 and equally high. The width of the floor is about 

 the same. There is always a feeling of gloom in these 

 places. Let the sun pour his blinding rays as he will, 

 a chill is on the mind. The walls seem to draw closer 

 about the traveller; the eye itself seems to feel 

 a sense of dread, and shrinks from realizing the 

 threatening height. 



The gorge continued for several miles. Now and 

 then some side cleft opened, choked with granite, 

 here old, there freshly broken. The sky-line was torn 

 into wild forms as if by blows of a Titan's hammer. 

 Lean ocotillo or starving creosote stared grimly from 



* These bags, much in vogue in our desert regions, would be im- 

 proved by providing a heavy reenforcement, preferably of leather, 

 to cover the bottom and extend a few inches up the sides. Without 

 this, the pressure of the water in a large bag forces it through the 

 canvas. 



