270 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



day, and next morning I walked the twenty-five 

 miles in to Mecca. Frank Coffey came back with me 

 to Cottonwood with two of his burros, and then I 

 went back with three gallons of water and a loaf of 

 bread. The jack was tied where I left him. He was 

 pretty sick-looking and lying down. I went on and 

 found my burros over at Pirion, and brought them 

 all back to the Springs. 



"That was about the closest call I've had. I 

 did n't ought to have started with that little can- 

 teen, but gosh! us fellers are all fools, else we 

 would n't stay with it. Well, after that I was through 

 with old Blue: sold him to a rancher for eight dol- 

 lars. Don't happen to have the makins, do you? 

 Gracias." 



We had agreed to start back at three o'clock, 

 but when the hour came, our courage was wanting. 

 However, Wellson handsomely offered to boil an- 

 other billy, and when it had been despatched we 

 braced up and moved off. On emerging from the 

 cafion we took a direct line for home. It led us first 

 over a plain of clay thinly covered with sand and 

 pebbles, next into a region of dunes, discouraging 

 to the tired horses, and then to the edge of a depres- 

 sion that was curiously broken up with fissures — a 

 sort of miniature bad-land formation. From the 

 tracks of wild-cats and coyotes that threaded the 

 narrow gullies, it would appear that this is a kind of 

 preserve of theirs, though what they live on, unless 

 on one another, is a mystery. Tracks of sidewinders 

 were here too, in great profusion ; quite a nice popu- 

 lous neighborhood. 



