TO SAN FELIPE CITY 259 



the rim, or shrank back into niches of the unfriendly 

 wall. The only bird I saw was a raven, whose slow 

 wing-beats struck heavily on the well-like air and 

 whose croak as he flew from point to point before us 

 seemed to warn us back, and promise dismal conse- 

 quences if we followed. 



Sunset found us nearing the northern outlet of 

 the caiion. In that deep, silent place, the light as it 

 faded away up the vast walls seemed to be with- 

 drawing for the last time, clinging and lingering on 

 the upper heights with the dull glow of dying lava. 

 Close behind crept like tragedy the ashy shadow. 

 Now only the topmost edge held the rays, as if 

 clutching a last hope. For a moment they bright- 

 ened, and the spectral shapes looking down moved 

 as if in relief: but on the instant a dark hand passed 

 over, and chilled all color to stony gray. 



I pushed on to overtake Wellson before he passed 

 out of the cafion, where I might be unable to follow 

 his tracks in the darkness. I came up with him just 

 as we emerged upon the sloping bajada, which is the 

 feature of almost every desert canon mouth. Brush 

 grew more thickly, and had a friendly look after 

 the barrenness of the gorge. Far across the valley 

 to the north I recognized Santa Rosa Mountain, 

 unmistakable, though showing a face new to me. 

 A dark ridge to the east I knew must be Superstition 

 Mountain, now not many miles away. 



We picked our way round the shoulder of Fish 

 Creek Mountain, an imposing mass that even in 

 half darkness showed a metallic look, very notice- 

 able by daylight. I expect to ^hear some day of 



