26o CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



fortunes coming out of that mountain, which has 

 hardly been touched by prospectors, on account of 

 the difficulty of taking in sufficient water for a stay 

 long enough for effective work. 



Wellson was making for a "dry camp" of his on 

 the way to which we should pass an old mining 

 shaft in which a little liquid was sometimes to be 

 found. This, though quite impossible for human 

 beings, Wellson had known his animals to drink 

 when hard pushed. 



It was long after dark when we reached the hole. 

 We hauled up a bucket of the stuff, the horses 

 crowding round for first chance. The stench was 

 atrocious, and it was all I could do to avoid being 

 violently sick. One after another the animals did 

 their best to drink, putting their noses to it thirstily 

 time after time, but it was too foul and they would 

 not take it. We drew bucket after bucket in hope of 

 getting something a degree less disgusting. At last 

 one of Wellson's horses reluctantly drank a little, 

 rolling back her lips after each mouthful to get rid 

 of the filthy taste and odor. Her mate, and my 

 Kaweah, who is unusually scrupulous, could not 

 bring themselves to touch it, though their eagerness 

 was pitiful. 



We led the poor beasts to camp, which was in a 

 clump of mesquits near the foot of the mountain. 

 With barley and mesquit beans they were well fed, 

 at any rate. Then we scratched up a meal by the 

 light of a candle-end, threw our blankets on the 

 sand and ourselves on them, and smoked for an 

 hour while we radiated the day's accumulation of 



