320 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



I found a kindly Mexican family, and experienced 

 again the courtesy of these often underrated people. 

 While I drank my milk and talked with the dueno 

 in the veranda where the family life went on, the 

 phonograph was turned on for my pleasure. It was 

 odd to hear the strains of "Pagliacci" by these 

 lonely reaches of the Colorado. "Tipperary" did 

 not sound so improbable. 



I now turned northward along the river. The one 

 difficulty I expected in making my way along the 

 stream was the overflowed areas likely to be left by 

 the yearly flooding which results from the melting 

 of the snows on the headwaters. But fortunately this 

 summer the rise had been less than normal and there 

 should be little trouble, though I must expect de- 

 tours and retracing of steps. 



A hardly discernible track ran alternately along 

 the river margin and the gravelly mesa that 

 stretched from the bank to the belt of rugged hills. 

 This gave variety to the march, sometimes through 

 thickets of willow, again in open blaze of sun, while 

 at intervals a ravine came down from the moun- 

 tains, filled with ironwoods, palo verdes, smoke- 

 trees, and the tedious but useful mesquit. At a little 

 cove where firm ground allowed of Kaweah getting a 

 drink I stopped for lunch and a congratulatory pipe, 

 feeling not a little satisfaction in at last travelling 

 along this famous stream, which had for years at- 

 tracted my imagination. 



The Colorado is not in its lower course a particu- 

 larly striking river. That kind of feature it has in 

 full measure farther up, where with roar of rapids or 



