IMPERIAL VALLEY TO YUMA 307 



I obtained — one from the room below the dome, 

 a sort of dormitory furnished with a number of 

 highly unattractive beds, provided, I suppose, for 

 unfortunate jurymen. From here I could look out 

 on all sides — to the green-bordered river winding 

 in sinuous course toward the Gulf; or to range be- 

 yond range of mountains, of red, yellow, purple, or 

 of mere haze; with an extraordinary peak, the Pi- 

 cacho,^ standing up like an artificial obelisk twenty 

 miles to the north, and more to the east the equally 

 strange shape of Castle Dome, the Cabeza del Gi- 

 gante, or Giant's Head: over all an evening sky 

 where clouds sailed in majestic squadrons. 



The other view was different but fully as impres- 

 sive — a human being, in fact, but of a kind that I 

 supposed had passed away. He entered the building 

 as I was leaving it, and I turned back to have an- 

 other look. I knew he was a judge before I saw him 

 go into the court-room. Long, thin, goateed, shirt- 

 sleeved, with cigar and wide-brimmed Stetson at 

 free-and-easy angle — he was the devil-may-care, 

 reprobate, Bret Hartean judiciary to the life, a sort of 

 epic. Without doubt he had a gun in his pocket, 

 perhaps another in the leg of his boot. I could 

 hardly keep from taking his photograph. I reckon 

 him to be the last of a species. Yuma must be careful 

 with him, and when he dies he should be gently pre- 

 served under glass in some museum of American 

 types. I have read of a person who was so gro- 



^ It was named by Garces, Penon de la Campana, or Great Bell- 

 Tower Rock, a name quite expressive to one familiar with the isolated 

 bell-tower of Spanish architecture. 



