BLYTHE TO COACHELLA VALLEY 341 



son of (et csetera) has stolen the rope off the 



windlass. I hope he'll die raving mad for a drop of 

 water right where he can see it, like I might have 

 done. Roping up's too good for that kind of dirt." 



Perfectly true, for a more scoundrelly trick can 

 hardly be imagined, as cold-blooded as if a sailor 

 should cut the life-line that has just been his salva- 

 tion. It illustrates the chances that lie in wait for the 

 desert traveller, and keep him anxious from the time 

 he leaves one water-hole till he reaches the next. So 

 far as we were concerned, we could have returned 

 to this ranch ; but in the case of a man arriving at 

 that well in bad straits for water, perhaps having 

 used his last supply freely in expectation of surely 

 renewing it here, death would be a not unlikely 

 outcome. 



I changed my plan perforce, but stayed over for 

 the day so as to make an earlier start the next morn- 

 ing. My accommodating rancher had a fair store of 

 hay, purchasable at a price, and I had brought a few 

 feeds of barley from Blythe, so Kaweah passed the 

 time profitably, while I indulged myself with such 

 ancient magazine literature as the house afforded. 



By daybreak we were on the march. The air was 

 cool and Kaweah seemed to know that he was 

 headed for home, though home was well over a hun- 

 dred miles away. We had knocked off a few miles be- 

 fore the sun came up, and when it rose I wheeled 

 and sat enjoying, as I don't often find possible, the 

 magnificence of the desert sunrise. I felt I could af- 

 ford to do Sol justice now that a few days would 

 bring the end of my journey. Moreover, the equinox 



