A RECORD RUN 67 
The country was typical of the locality—rough, 
brushy and precipitous. Four to six forties out 
made a good average run. 
As I left for my station Frazer called jgualy) 
‘‘Looks like you’ve got the post of honour to-day! 
You ought to get some mean going. Get out as far 
as you can, but don’t overdo it!”’ 
In my cocky mood this sounded very much like a 
challenge to performance and I started out with the 
firm intention of reaching the edge of timber if it 
extended ten miles. Asa matter of fact it was three 
miles—twelve forties—before the pine petered out 
and the woodland type began to appear. To get that 
far I had dropped from 9,000 to 6,800 feet altitude, 
and crossed several exceedingly steep ridges which 
bounded the side canyons draining into Tierra 
Blanca Canyon some thirty chains north. 
When I finally surmounted the last ridge and saw 
nothing beyond but scrubby pifion and juniper, it 
was just noon. The sun seemed hotter than usual. 
As I glanced at the aneroid and saw the three thou- 
sand foot change in elevation the reason for the in- 
crease of temperature was evident. My canteen 
was dry and I decided to postpone lunch till later, 
on the chance of striking water coming back. I felt 
comparatively fresh, so that while the prospect of 
the uphill climb home was not at all attractive, I had: 
no special misgivings as I began the return trip. 
The first mile in was about as exasperating work 
as could be imagined. I was running high up on 
