100 
MOUNTAIN SHEEP.—BIG SANDY.—BILL WILLIAMS’ FOBK. 
direct, it would have heen reduced to fourteen miles, giving a grade of eighty-six feet per mile. 
This, however, is only a rough approximation. Careful computation of the notes will probably 
modify this estimate considerably. 
As the water of White Cliff creek sinks a short distance from camp, it was thought best to 
continue with a reconnoitring party in advance, Leroux still thinking that we ought to aban¬ 
don the stream and proceed due west to Mojave. It would shorten the distance, without doubt, 
hut at a great sacrifice of grade. Therefore, our bedding and jwovisions having arrived from last 
camp, at 2 p. m. the explorations were renewed. Moving southwest along the dry bed of the 
creek to its junction with a large sandy arroyo, supposed to he what Walker named “Big 
Sandy,” we then travelled south, through the centre of a wide valley, and, after a march of six 
miles, encamped without having found water. Notwithstanding the dry surface, the soil is not 
deficient in vegetation, such as occurs in the vicinity of Bio Gila, viz: grama-grass, larrea Mex- 
icana, cacti, and Spanish bayonets. Bordering the sandy bed of the creek there is a fringe of 
dwarf oaks. The day has been pleasantly warm. 
February 3.—Proceeding onward nearly south, w T e soon struck into an Indian trail which led 
over a ridge into an arroyo from the mountains upon our left. There we found, at the foot of a 
white feldspar cliff, a fine spring of flowing water, sheltered by alamos, willows, and an acacia 
which bore a new variety of mistletoe. Some “bighorn” mountain sheep were frightened 
away from it at our approach. They were magnificent animals, with skin of silky hair like an 
antelope, and horns of remarkable size, curled like those of a ram. It is said that when pur¬ 
sued by hunters they throw themselves from lofty precipices, and striking upon their horns, 
escape uninjured by the fall. Those that we had started disappeared among the mountains ;* 
and as a prize had been offered for a specimen, some of the men followed with perseverance, 
which, however, Avas not rewarded. Having watered our mules, Ave turned doAvnthe steep and 
rocky ravine to its junction with Big Sandy, and continued the march south in the dry bed of 
that stream. The hills upon the right and left of our trail Avere of coarse granite, containing 
much feldspar, and, like those passed yesterday, covered with spring vegetation. The valley 
was about half a mile wide, and upon the surface of the washed arroyos were traces of recent 
water. About twelve miles below Big Horn spring, and tAventy from White Cliff creek, Ave 
reached the junction of Big Sandy with Bill Williams’ fork. The latter stream, which flows 
from Aztec Pass, here escapes from a ridge of volcanic hills and trap dikes, to enter a wide and 
fertile valley. It is now a clear rivulet fifty feet wide, and from a foot and a half to two feet 
deep. It flows nearly direct, in a soutliAvest course from Camp 108, Avhere the wagon trail 
crossed it, distant about thirty-four miles. BeloAv this point Bill Williams’ fork takes a south- 
AvestAvardly course, and bids fair to lead us, by the southern base of Blue Kidge, directly to 
the Colorado. We have therefore concluded to adopt this route for the survey, and haA r e sent 
back a messenger to Lieut. Ives, desiring him to advance and folloAv us Avith the train. 
Our camp is upon a gravel ridge near the mouth of Big Sandy, where grama is abundant. 
In the valley below are groves of mezquite trees which shelter a luxuriant crop of young grass. 
A fringe of the same borders the rivulet, quite in accordance with the delightful weather Ave 
have experienced. The thermometer at noon stood at 80° Fahrenheit. Around our bivouac 
are great quantities of “ fouquiera.” It is a singular shrub, Avith many thorny stalks shooting 
from the same root, and groAving without branches nearly straight from ten to fifteen feet in 
height. When in blossom it is exceedingly beautiful. In winter, while the circulation of the 
sap is suspended, it seems to be saturated Avitli an unctuous substance that causes it to burn 
with a brilliant light like fat pine ; at night, therefore, it serves as a torch. 
To-day Ave have found a neAV species of cactodendron, called clmg. It groAvs in extensive 
patches to the height of eight to ten feet; a confused mass of angular joints, whose sheathed 
* These form part of a chain which was afterwards called “ Big Horn,’ ; or “ Cer-bat ” range. Cer-bat is the Coco Maricopa and 
Mojave name for this animal, called Cimarron by the Mexicans. Their hair is supposed to be too coarse to be woven; but, nev¬ 
ertheless, I doubt not that these were the “wild beasts” referred to by the Gila Indians, in describing to Father Marco de Ai^a, 
in 1539, the woollen cloth made by the Totonteacs. See Indian Report. 
