352 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



not be finally solved. On the whole, the open valley 

 ahead was the best prospect. It led in the Cotton- 

 wood Springs direction and ought to bring me into 

 the road by which, two months before, I had come 

 from Dale. We would go ahead and see what hap- 

 pened. 



We had not eaten for twelve hours, for I had been 

 too much preoccupied to think of food. Kaweah had 

 not drunk either, but I relied on the coolness of the 

 night to refresh him. I gave him the last feed of bar- 

 ley, ate a scratch meal myself, and with an encour- 

 aging word to my anxious companion we started on. 



Daylight had gone but the moon was well up and 

 afforded aid and comfort. Except for the discomfort 

 of doubt I could have revelled in the charm of the 

 scene. The uncouth Chuckwallas rose dark behind 

 and to my right. Moonlight whitened here and there 

 the angle of some buttress, touching with charm of 

 fancy the leagues of shadowy mountain. Our shad- 

 ows marched before us, mingling with filmy pattern 

 of creosote or skeleton of cactus or ocotillo. To the 

 left the horizon line was a procession of dusky 

 shapes, shifting and vanishing like monsters seen in 

 a nightmare. 



We had gone for a few miles in a sort of dogged 

 muddle, when wagon tracks appeared without warn- 

 ing, crosswise of our line of march. Whither they 

 might lead in either direction I had no idea, but 

 they came as a vast relief. I made a rapid guess and 

 chose the right-hand track. Another mile and we 

 ran into an unmistakable road and were heading 

 westerly into the long valley. It was now only a 



