BLYTHE TO COACHELLA VALLEY 351 



carefully, but felt no certainty of being able to find 

 the way through this wilderness to our last camp. 



Suddenly I spotted two tents in a side gully. We 

 made for them hopefully, but there was no sign of 

 recent habitation, nor any indication of water. It 

 was the camp of some prospector who came once or 

 twice a year, at times when the tanks would yield a 

 supply. A trail led up the mountain-side at the rear 

 of the tents. This looked Inviting, and we followed it 

 cheerfully for two steep miles. Then it turned di- 

 rectly north and I saw it was useless to go on, so 

 with the loss of an hour of valuable daylight we 

 turned to our problem. 



Evening was coming on. I climbed a ridge and 

 scanned the country. There was plenty of it, and all 

 alike. The mine was no doubt somewhere within the 

 scope of view, but I could not guess even whether 

 it lay to north or south. To hunt for it in twenty 

 square miles of wash and gully offered slight chance 

 of success. 



I sat down and figured things over. We were now 

 clear of the Chuckwallas. To the south was a ridge 

 of hills that, as I reckoned, shut me off from sight of 

 the Sal ton Sea. Ahead a wide valley opened, running 

 due west for many miles. If I could make southwest 

 across country I ought to come out into the Dos 

 Palmas road; but it was nearly dark, the country 

 was a labyrinth of barrancas — the worst of all 

 country to get lost in — the last traces of any trail 

 had been left behind hours ago, and the spectre of 

 thirst was keeping me ever closer company. Even if 

 I could find Com Springs again my problem would 



