278 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



scorching fire. The tongue and lips grow thick, crack, 

 and blacken. Every organ of the body is deranged, 

 for the drought is not local, but runs through every 

 vein. Life cannot endure for long when one of its 

 elements is literally drained away. The brain's bal- 

 ance is overthrown and panic adds its terrors to the 

 torment that gnaws each throbbing nerve. Then 

 comes madness, and, whether mercifully soon or 

 cruelly delayed, the end. 



Meanwhile the sun shines on, showering down 

 carelessly his death-dealing rays. Nature is merely 

 the mathematician; her business is only to get the 

 right answer. Given the season and latitude, the 

 physical geography, and the constitution of the 

 body, the result works out to a certainty. 



At last we reached a wider gully leading in the 

 right direction, and which Wellson thought he recog- 

 nized. Here and there were what might be monu- 

 ments, and we went on more hopefully. But the 

 gully turned west, then north, and we knew we 

 were on the wrong track. Wellson climbed a ridge to 

 survey the country. It seemed we might have to go 

 ten miles round after all, and our water was about 

 exhausted. He was a long time away and I began to 

 fear he was lost. I was on the point of signalling by 

 firing my revolver when he reappeared and reported 

 that if we could cross two more difficult gullies we 

 should be in the canon that led to water. There was 

 nothing for it but to try, though I did not think the 

 horses would ever do it, for they seemed not to have 

 another effort in them. My poor Kaweah, I wager 

 you remember that day. 



