193809 desert magazine 1938 september

8/4/2019 193809 Desert Magazine 1938 September

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IT'S SO GLORIOUSLY

HEN the thermometer"sees red" and "O ld S ol" beatsdown unmercifully, keep inmind that you can reach California'sSummer Capitol within a few hours'drive. Cool, invigorating breezes anda tum bling surf provide the ideal tonic.You can sail, fish, swim and tan to adeep bronze. You can loiter on the"W alk of a Thousand Ligh ts" and strollalong the palisades with the Pacificbathed in the moo nlight below. Andyou can sleep in such cool comfort !Rentals and living costs are surprisinglylow.lor Reii/nl Details, Living Costs, anil Other VacationInformation, W rite ti) BECKO NEERS , Long Beach, Calif.


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CREED OF THE DESERTBy J U N E LE M E R T P A X T O N

Dr. Yerba Santa and Dr. SquawTeaOffer their service, asking narya fee;While ol' Doc Sage always is handySteeping a brew that beats anybrandy.

D E S E R T

AUG. 27Arizona Small Mine Oper-ators' association to hold jamboree atPrescott, Arizona.SEPT. 2Annual fiesta and dance.Acoma pueblo, New Mexico.SEPT. 2Fall semester opens at NewMexico State college at Las Cruces.SEPT. 3-5Rock climbers of SierraClub of California will make annualclimb up east face of Mt. WhitneyHoward Koster, leader.SEPT. 3-5Dig-N-Dogie Days at King-man, Arizona. Round-up of mine andrange sports.SEPT. 3-5Rodeo at Price, Utah.SEPT. 3-5Annual fiesta at Santa Fe,New Mexico.SEPT. 3-5Rodeo at Winnemucca, Ne-vada.SEPT. 4-5Annual Labor Day stam-pede at Duchesne, Utah.SEPT. 4-5Amateur rodeo at Winslow,Arizona.SEPT. 6Harvest dance, San Ildefonso,New Mexico.SEPT. 8-10 Beaver county fair atBeaver, Utah.SEPT. 8-10Rodeo at Vernal, Utah.SEPT. 9-11Navajo county fair at Hol-brook, Arizona.SEPT. 12-14Rodeo at Logan, Utah.SEPT. 15Jicarilla encampment, Apachedances and ceremonies, Horse Lake,New Mexico.SEPT. 15-17Rodeo at Provo, Utah.SEPT 16American Legion tour to visitGrand Canyon of Arizona.SEPT. 16-18 Navajo fair, WindowRock, Arizona.SEPT. 17-18-New Mexico Kennelclub's dog show at Santa Fe.SEPT. 18-20Lea county fair androdeo, Lovington, New Mexico.SEPT. 19St. Joseph's Day, dance,Laguna pueblo, New Mexico.SEPT. 22-25Nevada state fair atFallon.SEPT. 23-24Otero county fair, Ala-mogordo, New Mexico.SEPT. 28-30Annual assembly, Orderof Beauceant at Albuquerque, NewMexico.SEPT. 29-30Bi-state fair at Clovis,New Mexico.SEPT. 30Frank A. Schilling, presi-dent of the Nature Club of SouthernCalifornia to lecture on flora of Cali-fornia and Arizona deserts at SierraClub headquarters in Los Angeles,7:30 p.m.SEPT. 30Fiesta de San Geronimo atTaos, New Mexico.

Vol.1 SEPTEMBER. 1938 N o. 11COVERCALENDARPHOTOGRAPHYPERSONALITYREPTILES

PRIZESHISTORYGEMSRECREATIONHOMESCAMERA ARTMYSTERY

RANGETALL TALESWEATHERLETTERSPOETRYNEWSLANDMARKSFICTIONBOOKSCONTRIBUTORSPLACE NAMESMININGCOMMENT

Sidewinder, Photo by James M. Dannaldsonand Harold Allport, Jr.September events on the desert 1Prize contest winner 2Padre of the Uncharted Desert

By ARTHUR WOODWARD 3Hunting Sidewinders

By JAMES M. DANNALDSON 6Amateur Photographers' contest 7How Joshua Trees Were Named

By DENNIS H. STOVALL 8Turquoise on the Mojave

By JOHN W. HILTON 9"I Caught a Trout - - "

By MRS. WHITE MOUNTAIN SMITH . . . . 12House of 'dobe

By LON GARRISON 14"Feel" of the Desert

Photo by Wm. M. PENNINGTON 17"Say that I Kept My Dream"

By HUGH LACY 18Story of the Range Told in Branding IronsBy RAYMOND F. LAW 21Prize winning hot weather story

By CARLYLE ELLIS 24Temperature reports 24From readers of the Desert Magazine 25"Possessed" and other poems 27Here and There on the Desert 28Prize contest winner . . . . . . 30Hard Rock ShortyBy LON GARRISON . . . . " . 30Reviews of past and present books of the desert . 32Writers of the Desert 33Compiled by TRACY M. SCOTT 34Brief notes of desert mine operations 35Just Between You and Meby the Editor . . . 36

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Publishing Company, 597State Street, El Centro, California. Entere d as second class matter October 11, 1937 at thepost office at El Centro, California, under the Act of March 3, 1879.Title registered No. 358865 in U. S. Patent Office, and contents copyrighted 1938 bythe Desert Publishing Company. Permission to reproduce contents must be secured fromthe editor in writing. Subscription rate $2.50 per year in U. S. A. or possessions. Singlecopy 25 cents. RANDALL HENDERSON, EditorTAZEWELL H. LAMB, Associate EditorJ. WILSON McKENNEY, Business ManagerManuscripts and photographs submitted must be accompanied by full return postage.The Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility for damage or loss of manuscripts or photo,graphs although due care will be exercised for their safety. Subscribers should send noticeof change of address to the circulation d epartment by the fifth of the month preceding itu.S E P T E M B E R , 1938


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By CAROLINE S. YETTERFallon, NevadaDesert's mighty stillness tightens'round us,Light reflects from sand of deadwhite earth;Flitting shadows 'mong the sage andgreasewoodFill the air with songs of insect mirth.Stiff and dry the leaves andsandblown petalsRustle nowwith hint of things tocomeSwift upon us bursts a blinding stormcloudPierced with biting sand to drive

us home.

P ho t og ra ph byJERRY McLAIN301 Myrt le AvenuePhoenix , ArizonaThis pic ture was a w a r d e dfirst prize in the July photo-graphic contes t of the Deser tMagaz ine . Taken wi th a 4x5S pe e d Gra ph i c , S c hne i de r f:4.5l ens , 1/25 s e c ond e xpos u re , 8s top, using cloud filter at sixp . m .

While black fury, hateful andunboundedSends before it, but not long to lie,Sagebrush, thistles, leaves and spinycactus,Battered, torn from earth and left todie.

SuddenlyBillowing clouds scud quickly 'crossthe sky,Thin films of mist obscure themountain peaks;An eerie light onparched andwindblownearthPortends that once more SilentNature speaks.

For, at this moment, grey with chillyblast,A golden light dispels the darkeningmist;A gorgeous sun,blood-red, breaksthrough at lastNor leaves the now resplendent hillsunkissed.

The DESERT MAGAZINE

Desert Storm


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To the Yuma Indians the picture of an unsaved soulburning in hell always brought terror // reminded themof the cremation of their own dead relatives.

Padre of theUncharted Desert

By A RT H U R W O O D W A RDArt by GLORIA WIDMANN

Father Euseb io Kino ex tended the ou tpos t s o fthe Chris t ian fai th north from Mexico to the Gilariver . That was in the lat ter part of the 17th century.Seven ty - f ive years l a t e r Fa ther Franci sco Garces car -r ied the banner of Chris tendom farther north to thel a n d o f t h e Ch e me h u e v i , t h e Mo j a v e , t h e H a v a s u p a ian d the Hopi . Fa ther Gar ces d ied a mar ty r a t theha nd s of the Yu m a Ind ians befo re h i s work w as f in -i s h e d b u t h e w a s a p i o n e e r w h o s e c h a r a c t e r w i l la l w a y s b e l o v e d b y t h e me n a n d w o me n o f t h edeser t .

f ) LMOST naked Yuma IndiansI / squatted around the grey-robedFranciscan priest, Father Francis-co Garces, as he earnestly exhorted themto follow the True Faith.In one hand the good Father held themagic fetish, the little cross which an in-terpreter informed the awed Indians borethe image of the Son of God. Garces'other hand supported a staff from whichfluttered a banner showing the picture ofa saintly womanthe Virgin Mary.Suddenly the Father reversed the ban-ner and there staring at the astoundednatives was a man writhing in the flames

of hell. To Garces it was but a symbol ofthe wrath to be visited on all unrepent-ant sinners. But to the Indians it mightwell have suggested the cremation of oneof their own dead relativesand sincethe Yumas in the year 1771 did not liketo be reminded of the dead, any morethan they do to this day, they turnedtheir faces from the picture and many ofthem ran away.This reaction of the heathen neverfailed to please the earnest young priest.Everywhere he went among the river peo-ple the Indians averted their gaze fromthe burning sinner. It was a sign of deep

understanding on the part of these poorignorant children of the desert, FatherGarces thought. The same people fingeredthe well thumbed breviary and kissedthe crucifix because they were furtherevidences of the white man's power. Themagnetic compass, the little metal thornimprisoned in a case that told the medi-cine man where to go was also magicbeyond their comprehension.Father Garces was 33 years old whenhe first visited the Colorado river. Hehad been ordained scarcely five yearswhen he was sent to the mission ofSan Xavier del Bac in the Papago country.S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 3 8


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On a bluff overlooking the Colorado river at Yuma a monument hasbeenerected in honor of Father Garces. The inscription reads: "Daring explorer,zealous missionary andunfailing friend of the Yuma Indians, Padre Garcesfounded theYuma Indian mission, andnearby, gave his life for their souls.Hisfaith was unshakable; hishope tranquil; hischarity joyous, hiszeal triumphant."

That was in the year 1768. In those daysthere was no elaborate structure with animposing facade such as one sees todaytowering above the squire, mud-and-wattled dwellings of the Papago on thedesert south of Tucson. In that same yearGarces had made his first entrada intothe Pima country farther north. Thenextyear he had ventured among the hostileApache and in 1770 a fatal scourge ofmeasles and diarrhoea sent him trudgingback again to the dome shaped sheltersof the Pima scattered among the cotton-

woods and arrowweed beside the watersof theGila.Like that indefatigable missionary,Father Eusebio Kino who now had rest-ed in his grave in Magdalena for overhalf a century, Garces felt impelled toexplore the hinterland.There were many tribes to be visited,missions to be founded, souls to be saved.In theyear 1771, Garces stood upon thebank of the mighty Rio de los Tizones,River of theFirebrands, thus called by theSpanish explorers of the 16thcentury be-

cause the shivering natives carried em-bers with which to warm their nakedbodies. Later it was renamed the Colo-rado because of its rusty red color.On that trip he visited the Indians onthe lower reaches of the Colorado, wasferried across the tawny flood, probablyon a tule balsa, by Indian women, whoswam and pushed it through the water,happy and innocent in their nakedness.He covered 900 miles before he finallyreturned to his home station in thePapagueria.The year 1774 saw Garces as a mem-ber of the trail blazing expedition com-manded by Juan Bautista de Anza. Withthat gallant soldier Garces journeyed oninto Alta California.The following fall, Father Garces andPadre Tomas Eixarch accompanied Anzaon his second overland trip from Sonorato California, as far as theColorado river.This time Garces went across the streamen the shoulders of three stalwart Yumabraves, face up, feet first, like a corpse.Fray Font, the grumbling one, swayeddizzily on a horse with three naked Indiosholding him in place.This was to be the first real opportuni-ty for mission work among the river peo-ple. Garces and Eixarch would remainamong the Yuma and catechize thetribesmen. It was a heaven sent moment.Accordingly a newstick-in-the-mud hovelwas constructed in the bottom lands nearthe dwelling of Capitan Palma, whileAnza made ready topush on to Monterey.With some live cattle, three loads ofcharqui or dried beef, three hams, a boxof biscuits, some chickpeas, tallow, sixcheeses, beans, the inevitable chocolateand a little sugar as provisions, the twofliars were left among the Yuma guar-dians of the river. To aid in making newfriends, the priests also had some glassbeads and twists of tobacco.Wi th thepriests were also left two In-dian interpreters and the runaway SanGabriel neophyte, Sebastian Taraval,Anza's erstwhile guide who was now toaid Garces in penetrating the desert fast-ness.Garces traveled to the mouth of theColorado on this trip, revisiting thetribes he had seen in 1771. TwoCajuenche women who had been amongthe Yuma preceded him to let their peo-ple know that thecowled grey-robe camein peace from the Yuma land, the Caju-enche and Yuma being enemies.He reached his destination, the Gulfof California about January 3, 1776, andwas back with Father Tomas early inFebruary.Now the sturdy Garces was imbuedwith the idea of opening newer andshorter routes between the Colorado andthe missions of Upper California on thewest, and to the settlements along theRio Grande on the east. There were new

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tribes to be visited. The country was sovast and the span of a man's life so short,that every day countedA flood threatened the rude quartersof Eixarch and himself and so Garces de-layed long enough to aid in the removalof the hut from the inundated lowlandsto the little hill of Puerto de la Concep-cion, the ill-fated spot where three yearslater was to be erected the simple missionchapel, and where nearly a century lateran American fort was to rise upon theruins of the Spanish walls. Today, aschool dominates the scene, dedicated tothe education of the descendants of thesame Yuma Indians for whom Garceslaid down his life in an attempt to Chris-tianize them.Garces left the Yuma village on Feb-ruary 14, 1776, and traveled slowly upthe California bank of the river. TheChemehuevi welcomed the stranger. Hewas the first white man to go amongthem.

The Jama jabs or M ojave were next toreceive him. Mojave warriors joined hislittle party near the present site of Need-les at a place he called Pozo de San Casi-miro, the Well of St. Casimir. Thence hetraveled up the river until he arrived ata point nearly opposite the spot whereFort Mojave was founded in 1859. Herethe intrepid priest announced to his Mo-jave escort that he wished to take the trail

that led into the setting sun. He wouldvisit the Mission of San Gabriel and thenseek a short cut to the Mission de SanLuis Obispo. The uncharted leagues ofdesert land that lay between him and thePacific coast did not daunt him.The trail he took was later to becomean overland route. For centuries the barefeet of the Indian traders journeying fromthe river to the coastal villages of theChumash had beat a well defined pathfrom water hole to water hole. Today ontopographic maps one may see the namesof Pahute Springs, Rock Springs, Govern-ment Hole and Marl Springs. At theseplaces Garces stopped to slake his thirstand after him in long and ghostly pro-cession soldiers in dust powdered bluecoats, tired emigrants, sweating freightersand unshaven prospectors halted besidethe cool waters.

At a spring in the Providence Moun-tains, Garces met four Indians who hadbeen on a trading venture among the In-dians of the Santa Clara Valley not farfrom Ventura. The priest was amazedto learn that these men carried no bowsand arrows for protection. Neither did

Father Garces was jerried acrossthe Colorado river probably on atule balsa with the w omen oj theYuma tribe swimming alongside andpushing it through the water.

they have any food. The Mojave told himnonchalantly that it was quite customaryfor Indians crossing that dreary waste togo four days without food and if need be,without water.On March 9, 1776, Francisco Garcesdiscovered the Mojave river, the firstwhite man ever to traverse its course. Hepaused on the shore of Soda Lake whichbecame to him Arroyo de los Martires.Thence he continued southwest along theriver past the place known as the Caves,where in later years Indians of the regionliked to lie in wait for unlucky teamstersor stray prospectors. His sandaled feetshuffled across the site of the future CampCady, to be known to army men in the1860s as the meanest military post inthe west, a dreary collection of hovels andadobe huts hated by privates and officersalike. In this naked desert land povertystricken Indians gave him of their best.The rabbits and corn atole he receivedwere much better than the horse meat up-on which he and his guides had beenforced to subsist.

Now the goal was near. On across thedesert and through the mountains, emerg-ing at last into the Valle de San Jose, theSan Bernardino of the Lugos and theMormons. He tarried awhile at San Gab-riel, then he was away, through San Fer-Continued on page 26

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Huntinq SidewinderssBy JAMES M.DANNALDS ON

Hunting sidewinders is not a dangerousoccupationif you have theproper equip-ment, and donot become careless. This isthe opinion of James MDannaldson 'whohunts snakes iorzoos, museums and lab-oratories. Bill Bischoff, whoaccompaniedDannaldson on thehunting trip describedin this story, isshown inthe picture abovewith the tools of thehunta lantern, ahomemade "grabber" and a stout box.

S~ \ S theback wheels of our car be-I I gan tolose traction and spin deep-\ ' erinto the sand it became evidentwe must deflate the tires ifwe expected toget through thedunes ahead.I stopped the motor on a short inclinean d was about to climb outwhen mycompanion exclaimed, "Sidewinder!"I reached for theelectric lantern andBill Bischoff, from theseat beside me,began fumbling in theluggage compart-ment forthe snake stick. The beam frommy flashlight revealed thehorned rattlercoming along the ridge of sand whichbordered the road. Bill hadcaught hisfirst glimpse of thereptile as it flashed

across the path of the headlights in frontof the car.The snake seemed bewildered by thepowerful gleam from my lantern andstopped, drawing itsbody upinto a let-ter S. Its small triangular head waspoisedin readiness to strike. Its black forkedtongue darted out, curving upward untilit touched the top of its head.Bip reached outwith hissnake stickand caught the reptile inthe center ofthebody. Its tiny rattles began a nervouswhirr and it struck furiously at the stick.Minute drops of yellow venom drippedfrom itstwo small fangs.I brought abox from the carand the

squirming snake waslowered into theopen compartment. Flashing thelanterninto the box wesaw that hehad caughtan exceptionally fine specimen about 18inches long with a pale pink tinge to itsstraw colored body. Thesmall brownspots arranged irregularly in a row downthe center of itsback were exceptionallywell defined indicating the snake onlyrecently had shed itsskin.This wasSidewinder No. 1 for theevening.Bill Bischoff and I haddriven out tothe southern part ofthe Mojave desertofCalifornia on one of ourperiodic snakehunts.During the heat of theday weloafed

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in the shade at Twentynine Palms oasis.It was useless to hunt sidewinders duringdaylight hours. Exposure to the direct raysof the midsummer sun will kill one ofthese little horned rattlers in a few min-utes.But toward evening the doves beganto stir in the trees of the desert oasis andas we had many miles to travel before wereached the dune country where I knewthe snakes would be plentiful, I arousedBill from his siesta and we began to makepreparations for the night's work.Our equipment consisted of a powerfullantern, boxes with hinged covers inwhich to keep our victims, and the snakestick or "grabber." This is an indispens-able part of our hunting equipment. It isa homemade gadget consisting of a four-foot handle to which two metal prongsare attached. The prongs can be snappedtogether by pressure on the lever whichruns up the handle. Of course we worethick high-topped boots.As we headed our car out across theopen desert the sun was sinking behindthe moun tains in the west. Myriads ofstars appeared in the canopy overhead.Joshua trees along the road loomed blackagainst the sky, assuming all sorts ofweird poses and appearing at times to begesturing with their shaggy armlikebranches.

Snakes Come Out at NightWith the coming of night the desertdunes are places of intense activity. Outof holes and burrows and from the con-cealment of rocks and shrubs come ro-dents and reptiles and insectsbarb-tailed scorpions, hairy tarantulas, poisoncentipedes, fanged rattlers, and a hordeof harmless squirrels and rats. They dotheir foraging after the sun has gonedown.We kept our eyes focused on the roadahead. Perhaps the headlights of the carwould pick out the sinuous form of arattler. Several times we stopped to ex-amine rocks and sticks which to ourstraining vision seemed to have the ap-pearance of the snakes we were seeking.Having caught our first sidewinder, we

lowered the pressure in the tires of ourcar and continued into the dune 2reawhere our prey was likely to be mostplentiful.In the fine sand of the road the head-lights revealed the graceful curved mark-ings which the sidewinder always leavesas the sign of his passing.Suddenly we saw a tiny grey shadowlooping its way along in front of the car.We were out almost before the wheelshad ceased to turn. When we were neat-ly upon him, the sidewinder unexpectedlyreversed his direction and came directly

toward us. Caught off our guard we wereunable to bring the "grabber" into ac-tion quickly enough, and we leaped forthe safety of the running board as thesnake passed under the car. His changeof direction was not an attackside-winders do not fight except when crowd-ed. But it is not a comfortable feeling tohave a reptile wiggling between one'sfeet.We put the car in reverse and backingup a few yards brought the sidewinderinto the range of the headlights againand with more caution than we had usedbefore, caught him.The desert sidewinder or horned rat-tler is crotalus cerastes and seldom growsto a length greater than two feet. It getsits common name from the odd motionwith which it propels itself along theground. With head and tail parallel themiddle part of the body describes a seriesof loops, giving the impression that it ismoving at right angles to a normal course.

The marks left in the sand resemble aseries of shallow S S S's.Nineteen in the Box

At the end of three hours hunting wehad captured 19 sidewinders. On ourway back to Twentynine Palms we had anew experience with horned rattlers.Passing a mesquite tree we observed aslight movement in the branches. Whenwe went to investigate we found a side-winder twining among the branches. Itsmission was not clear, but it probably wasthere in search of food. Bill brought thesnake stick and we added the tree-climberto our collection.While this was a new observation asto the habits of the sidewinder, we werenot surprised. I have found these little

snakes in many odd places. It is not un-common while digging in rats' nests tofind a sidewinder in possession of thenest with two or three bulges in itsstomachevidence of a recent meal onbaby rats. I have found them in the car-casses of dead cattle, in the debris underdeserted cabins, in mine shafts, and oc-casionally in tortoise burrows.Back at the oasis we removed the boxesfrom the car and inspected the lids tomake certain they were securely fastened.The danger from sidewinders is not somuch in the hunting as in carelessness oroverconfidence. With boots and ordinaryintelligence the sport of sidewinder hunt-ing is not especially hazardous and pro-vides thrills at least equal to those offishing or game hunting.

It is legendary among old prospectorsthat the sidewinder frequently makes it-self a bed companion. Such a thing hashappened, but the ordinary traveler mayspend years on the desert without seeingone of the horned rattlers. One thing issurethey never go about looking fortrouble.

Announcement of WinnersRalph Gardner of Tujunga, Cali-fornia, was the winner of second prizein the July photography contest held bythe Desert Magazine. Mr. Gardner'swinning picture will appear in a laternumber.In addition to the prize-winningphotographs, the following entries wereof special merit:Alonzo W. Pond, Milton Jet., Wise,"Crossing of the Fathers."Roy. L. Shipp, Jr., Boulder City, Ne-vada, "Cholla."Arthur Buckwalter, Upland, Calif.,"Yucca Blossoms."

ta AmateurEach month the Desert Magazine offers cash prizes to amateurphotographers of desert subjects. These contests are open to all readersof the magazine regardless of residence.The first awa rd is $5.00 an d the second $3.00. The pictures m ayinclude any desert subject, photographed on the desert. Close-ups.of

plant and animal life, unusual personal pictures, well-composed land-scapes and scenic effects, rock formations, water holes, oases and re-creational pictures are among the subjects suggested.Following are the rules governing the contest:1Pictures submitted in the Septembercontest must be received at the DesertMagazine office by September 20.2Not more than four prints may besubmitted by one person in one month.3Winners will be required to furnisheither good glossy enlargements or theoriginal negatives if requested.4Prints must be in black and white,2V4X3V4 or larger.5Pictures will be returned only whenpostage is enclosed.

For non-prize-winning pictures acceptedfor publication $1.00 will be paid for eachprint. , , 1

Winners of the September contest willbe announced and the pictures publishedin the November number of the magazine.Address all entries to:CONTEST EDITOR,DESERT MAGAZINE,El Centro, California.

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How Joshua TreesWere Named

By DENNIS H. STOVALLR A W N by gaunt-ribbed oxen, atrain of cumbersome immigrantwagons creaked slowly across theupper mesas of the Mojave desert inSouthern California. Bearded men goadedthe shambling beasts. Others rode lean-flanked horses. Wom en and children,faces drawn by thirst andhunger, lookedout through the tattered canvas flapsas the heavy vehicles jolted along.

Leader of thecaravan was Elisha Hunt.The grim-featured men and women whoaccompanied him were members of theMormon colony destined to form the set-tlement of San Bernardino in 1851.Like many of the westward treks ofthe Mormon pilgrims, this one was in-spired by a vision revealed to BrighamYoung in a dream. Elisha Hunt was butthe faithful emissary of a greater prophet.He was leading this company of chosenpeople toward a gigantic arrowhead on amountainside which Brigham Young hadseen in his vision. The arrow wouldpoint to the land the colony was to oc-cupy.Leaving Salt Lake early in March, thecaravan traveled across Meadowlake washand the southern Nevada desert to DryLake, thence through Las Vegas valleyto the Mojave river, and from theretoward the Cajon pass. The wagons wereso large, so heavily loaded with imple-ments andsupplies, they could not followthe regular trail in many places. Longandwearisome detours were made.

By the time they reached the easternborder of the Mojave their food supplywas almost gone. The wagons werebrought to a stop on the upper plateauof the desert. Ahead of them on the dis-tant horizon was a jagged range of moun-tainsthe San Bernardinos. Beyond thatrange the leader believed they wouldfind the great arrowhead pointing likethe finger of God.

Nearer at hand, thethings that attractedtheir attention just nowwere the queer-foliaged trees. The mesa and ravineswere covered with them. To the wearyeyes of the travelers it was like a fantasticGarden of Eden. To the bearded leaderthe strange forest in the desert wastakenfor a "sign."They had turned this way, off thebeaten route, because their advance riders

reported the wagons were too wide to

pass down theCajon trail. Westward theyhad come to the edge of this forest oftrees such as they had never seen before."It is a good omen from the Lord Al-mighty!" declared the leader.He uncovered his head and raised hisface to heaven. A delicious coolness hadtempered the sultry air. Clouds hid thesun."Look, brethren! The sky no longer islike brazen brass. God has sent theclouds.It is as if the sun stood stillas Joshuacommanded. These green trees are liftingtheir arms to heaven in supplication."We shall call them Joshua trees! Soonwill we reach the Promised land!"

The caravan moved ondown theCajon on the western side of the canyonto what later became known as Sycamoregrove. It is a verdant spot IV2 miles westof what is now Devore station on theSanta Fe railroad. A monument at thisspot memorializes those sturdy immi-grants who founded the colony of SanBernardino.It was from their camp at Sycamoregrove, near the mouth of Cajon canyonthat Elisha Hunt and his company be-held the visionthe gigantic arrowheadhigh up on the precipitous walls of theSan Bernardino. They knew they were attheir journey's end.Since that day, uncounted pilgrims ofmany faiths have found rest and peaceand comfort in the shade of the Joshuatrees. The desert wind whispers softlyand always with a note of mystery throughtheir ragged fronds. Seen against a back-ground of lilac, when the sun's heatdances in a shimmering haze at noon-

time, or in the quiet dusk of a desertevening when the sky changes from tur-quoise to goldthe Joshuas always arealluring, mysterious, beautiful.

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Prehistoric Indians were work-ing the turquoise deposits in thedesert Southwest long before thewhite man arrived in America.Many of the ancient Indian pitexcavations are still to be foundin New Mexico, Nevada andCalifornia. In the accompanyingtext and map John Hilton givesthe location of some of the pre-historic mines, and also tellswhere collectors may obtainfair specimens of turquoise gemrock today.

Turquoseon theMojave

By JOHN W. HILTONf/YYL'E. thousands of other gem cut-/ ters before me, my first experiencein lapidary work was cutting andpolishing turquoisemystic gem stone ofthe American Indian. Due to its com-paratively low hardness of six and itseven texture, turquoise is made to orderfor the practice work of the beginner, es-pecially if the soft inferior grades areavailable for this purpose.One cannot handle a great amount ofturquoise without developing a great lik-ing for the gemsuch is its character.There seems to be beneath its surfacebeauty a mysterious attraction which inmy case created a desire to know moreabout this fascinating gem.I learned that it was mined on theSinai peninsula in Persia, and in manyother widely scattered desert regions ofthe earth, including portions of our owndesert Southwest. A fact which interestedme perhaps more than anything elsewas the almost invariable presence of pre-historic workings where turquoise de-posits of any consequence are located.Ancient turquoise mines are scatteredover a considerable part of our Ameri-can desert region. Some of the largestare near Cerillos in New Mexico. MountChalchihuitl is the site of the most ex-tensive prehistoric mineral workings inAmerica. The whole north side of the

Zuni Dick, until his death a few months ago, was one of the most skilled ofIndian turquoise workers. According to Burton F rasher, who took this pictureZuni Dick was able to recall the last excursion made to the Pacific coast by m em-bers of his tribe to secure seashells for beads and ornam ents. It is be lieved thistrek was nearly 100 years ago.hill has been quarried out and the presentfloor of the pit supports a growth ofgiant pines which perhaps are hundredsof years old. The largest pit is over a hun-dred feet deep and 200 feet wide. Thedumps of debris about these workingscover several acres.It is almost inconceivable that a primi-tive race could have moved the countlesstons of solid rock with the tools whichmust have been used at that time. Scat-tered through the debris and in the bot-toms of the workings have been found

stone hammers which quite evidentlywere used by the aborigines of that an-cient period for mining purposes.Several other districts in New Mexicowere worked in prehistoric times andsome of these have produced commercialturquoise since then. Notable am ongthese are the Burro mountains and theHachita district in Grant county and theJarilla district in Otero county.Turquoise occurs in Arizona nearTombstone, Cochise county, Mineral parkin Mohave county and a number of otherS E P T E M B E R , 1 9 3 8


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i.Mojave desert landscape showing du mps from the oldturquoise workings.Themonument on the trap rock at the top of the hill was erected when theclaimswere located.

places. In almost every instance thepres-ent mines either are on the site of the oldIndian diggings or near them. Evidenceindicates that a considerable mining in-dustry existed in the pre-Columbian pe-riod in Arizona. Colorado andUtah alsohave produced turquoise. In Conejoscounty, Colorado, near Lajara, severalcommercial ventures in turquoise mininghave been launched. As in other places,the Indians had been here ahead of thewhitemen.Today Nevada is the most productivesource of high grade turquoise. Mining isgoing on in several districts on a fairlylarge scale. TheNevada holdings of theAmerican Gem company areproducing alarge part of the high grade turquoisenow offered on themarket. TheprincipalNevada turquoise deposits are in Esmer-alda andNye counties, but there arealsodeposits in Lincoln andLyon counties.

Belongs to the DesertOne of themost interesting facts about

turquoise is its unwavering attachment tothe desert. Generally minerals and gemsare no respecters of climate or locality.But strangely enough, turquoise is foundin commercial quantities only where des-ert climatic conditions prevail now orhave existed in the immediate past. Noexplanation of this odd circumstance hasbeen offered unless it be the fact that itis a superficial mineral and actually de-pends on certain climatic conditions forits formation.Turquoise is a hydrous phosphate ofaluminium with traces of iron and cop-

per. It is assumed that the blue coloring

comes from the copper content and thatthe varying amounts of iron present areresponsible for thegreenish shades foundin the inferior grades. It is present inrocks whose surface composition includesthe elements of which it is formed. Usual-ly turquoise occurs in tiny veinlets orsmall nodules as a secondary mineral fill-ing the cavities in the decomposing sur-face of rocks.Always Close to SurfaceIt is not believed to occur in any de-gree of perfection much below 100 feetin depth. A geochemist may some dayestablish a relationship between this factand its persistent desert occurrence. Inmany other parts of the world the samerocks which mother the turquoise arefound in the same associationsbut onlywhere such elements arecombined in thedesert is turquoise found in sufficientquantity for profitable mining.In the northeastern corner of San Ber-nardino county, California, is an interest-

ing group of old turquoise mines. Myattention first was called to them in apublication of theCalifornia state divisionof mines. Author of the article was theeminent gem authority George FredericKunz, and it was entitled "Gems andJewelers' Materials of California." Thispublication, printed in 1905, gives a mostfascinating description of the San Ber-nardino turquoise region and the miningoperations carried on there since 1897.It describes at length many prehistoricworkings in that region. These workingsare in the form of saucer-like pits 15 to30 feet across. I found on visiting thelocality that these depressions are noteasi-

ly seen when close at hand. However,they are readily identified from a highpoint some distance away at a time ofday when the shadows are long. Actionof wind andwater over a long period oftime hasalmost obliterated these pits. Ifound that it required several days ofhard labor to remove thedebris from oneof thembut was rewarded by the dis-covery of a fine stone hammer some dis-tance below the surface. The claim I lo-cated at this point failed to produce tur-quoise of fine enough grade to competewith other mines being worked at thetime.

Evidence of previous Indian habitationin the vicinity of the old turquoise pitsis found in petroglyphs on the walls ofnearby canyons. Com menting on theseglyphs, Kunz said:"The most impressive feature, however,is the abundance of rock carvings in thewhole region. These arevaried, conspicu-ous and peculiar, while elsewhere they

are very rare. Some are recognizable asAztec water signs, pointing the way tosprings, but most of them areunlike anyothers known andoffer a most interestingproblem to American archeologists."This section of the desert may wellhave been the source of the first turquoiseused in America. In defense of this con-clusion I offer the following version oflegends current among the Indians ofDeath Valley today:"A long time ago the desert Mojavesoccupied this region. One day there ap-peared from the west or south a strange

people searching for precious stones inthe rocks. The visiting tribesmen werean entirely different race of Indians andbrought feathers of tropical birds as gifts.These people made friends with the des-ert Mojaves and remained to mine theturquoise found in the rocks here. Theywere peaceable and industrious neighborsand were blessed with many strange artsand much magic."They notonly taught thenatives howto mine the turquoise buthow to inscribethe desert rocks with mystic symbols.

Pahutes Are Suspicious"The neighboring Pahutes looked up-on the new arrivals with suspicion forthey did notknow but that the strangerswould teach the Mojaves a knowledgewhich would make them superior in war-fare and enable them to destroy otherdesert tribes."The whole proceeding looked likebad medicine for thePahutes and so theirchiefs made plans for a sudden attack be-fore their potential enemy became toostrong. There ensued a bitter conflict inwhich all of the strangers and most ofthe Mojaves were killed."This seems to have brought an end to



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the turquoise workings until the advent ofthe white man.Supporting this folklore tale is the storyof Mexican Indians that they got theirturquoise from the far north in exchangefor bird feathers.It probably was at a later date the In-dians of the south finding it impossibleto cope with th e savage Pahutes discoveredthat turquoise of even better qualitycould be secured in the country of themore peaceable Pueblo Indians. It prob-ably was through the turquoise-seekingemissaries from the south that the PuebloIndians learned to prize the gem forthemselves.

On a recent return to the old turquoisemines described by Kunz I found thewest camp just about the same as it hadbeen when I first saw it nearly 10 yearsago. The route of the highway has beenchanged and several new service stationserected along the way, but the rocky trailin to the old camp is unchanged.Due to the hardness of the rock thetunnels of the old "Tiffany" workings arestill in good condition and there seemsto be no danger in entering them al-though they have been abandoned formany years. Turquoise is still to be foundthere, both fragments in the old dumpand occasional specimens embedded inthe walls of the mine. Visitors should becareful about dislodging loose rock inseeking to secure the gem stone from thetunnels.Although the mines are only 5.2 milesfrom the paved highway the road is rough

Collectors and others whoplan to visit the old turquoiseworkings described in this storyare urged to await the comingof cool weather before under-taking the trip. While there areno great hazards for those ac-customed to summer tempera-tures in the desert region, thepleasure of exploring the gemfield will be much greater whenclimatic conditions are favor-able.

BOATING EVENTS DRAWDESERT VACATIONISTS

and rocky and an ample supply of watershould be carried. Also, the visitor shouldwatch for rattlers except in the wintermonths.If the visitor allows a full day for thetrip from Yucca Grove or Baker therewill be ample time for exploring both theabandoned tunnels of the white man'sworkings and the pits of the prehistoricIndians.The accompanying map is an accurateguide for those who are interested in mak-ing this trip. Visitors should not go thereexpecting to find specimens of great com-mercial value. If fine gem stone wasthere in any quantity it is needless to saythe property would not have been aban-doned. However, any collector with care-ful search will find at least a few samplesof turquoise worth taking homeand forthose who love the desert it will be aninteresting day of exploration.

Desert folk who scurry to the seashorewhen the thermometer does the High-land fling have shown interest in yacht-ing at Pacific harbors this season.San Diego, Newport-Balboa, and LongBeach all boast international races duringAugu st and September. This year thereare meets for every size of boat, fromsix-meter snowbirds to 45-foot schooners.During the week August 23-28, New-port Harbor Yacht club sponsors theclimactic yachting event of the summerwith a program of racing which has at-tracted international attention.

^ B E A C O N i ^ ^ t S ^ , ...-sskh PREHISTORIC PUEBLOiHTSsBr" j

S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 3 8 11


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There are two k i nds of fisher-m e n t h o s e who can catch fish,a nd t hos e who can te l l goodfishing stories. Evidently Mrs.White Mounta in Smi th is one ofthose ra re pe rsons who ha sm a s t e re d bo t h b ra nc he s of thefishing art. A n y w a y , you mayread this s tory and j udge foryourself.

"I Caughta Trout "By MRS. WHITE MOUNTAIN SMITH

Cartoon byREG MANNING>oF you're not a natural bom angler{/who se fishing career began with a * bent pin on twine tied to a willowswitch, right now is a good time to turnto another story. For I'm one of thoseincomprehensible females who wouldrather fish for trout in a clear cool moun-

tain stream than angle for a no-trump ina bridge deck.Northern Arizona is dotted with lakesfull of game trout, and up in the Whitemountains, streams come down from thesnow covered peaks and they are a fish-erman's perfect dream. About once a weekI look around thePetrified Forest and be-gin to compare stone trees with livingmurmuring pines. I dive into the closetfor a pair of woolen slacks and mysweatshirt. While I lace my boots WhiteMountain Smith, whose enthusiasm forfishing isn't as great as mine, thinks ofsome imperative duty over at the Painted

Desert, and so my brother and I collectour over-night equipment and depart.We each take a sleeping bag with aneiderdown quilt. Into a zipper bag gotowels, toothbrushes and soap, and weadd Iodine, adhesive tape and bandage.Most anything can happen when onegoes fishing.We learned long agothat most peopletake toomuch food when they go camp-ing, and so ourstandard list consists of:1 pound good ground coffee (nomilkor sugar)1 pound sliced bacon (grease from

this fries fish)

"A warning rattle sounded and Ileaped waist deep into the icecold waterjust as a harmless water snake floatedpast me and a buzzing jarfly lighted ona twig close by myhead andresumed itsvibrations."

1 can of pickles1 dozen eggs (should fish fail to bite)2 loaves of bread, 2 cans tomato juiceSalt, pepper andcracker crumbsSometimes I have softening of theheart and addmarshmallows to toast overthe fire while Fisherman smokes, or per-haps a cake for the sweet touch.Cooking utensils are a coffee pot, along handled steel skillet and the neces-sary knives, forks, tin cups and a canopener. We cook over a small gasolinecamp stove. It sounds more romantic touse a camp fire but I have to do thecook-ing, and I never was willing to tradecomfort for romance.We carry five-ounce bamboo rods andordinary reels. Our hooks are assortedsizes, some snelled, some plain shortshanked steel hooks. A fewflies aretakenalong for effect. One large-mouthedthermos jug is filled with ice and keptsealed until we are ready to store thecleaned fish in it for impressing the For-est dwellers.As for baitit is always a safe bet to

take plenty of fishing worms which canbe found along most any irrigation ditch.I say"along most anyditch." Onerecallswith mixed emotions the strategy of afarmer at Concho who graciously permit-ted us to thoroughly clean out his irriga-tion ditch in search of non-existentworms. Incidentally, it's never quite safeto leave a baited hook outside a farm-house while calling within. A grandflapping of wings combined with aston-ished squawks and the remarks of the in-dignant housewife brought to light thefact that an oldgrey goose hadswalloweda fishing worm. Well, theworm was im-paled on a hook and the hook tied to aline, and the line ended on a reel and thereel on a poleand thepole belonged tome. I bought myself an old grey goosethat time. '

Last Wednesday wassultry in the Pet-rified Forest. The hills beckoned andFisherman and I left for a fishing trip.We drove over U. S. 260 to Springervilleand on up through Eagar to where a For-est service road led into the South Forkof the Little Colorado. You, who haveseen this sluggish muddy river in the



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lower country would not recognize it asthe clear icy mountain stream leapingand foaming in the narrow gorge of theSouth Fork. Almost every pool containsbrook or rainbow trout ready to welcomea diet of worms. My only objection tothis stream is the thick foliage interlac-ing across the water which makes castingan impossibility and landing your catchsomewhat of a gamble. It's disconcertingto find your finny victim giving you afishy stare from the top of a ten-footwillow. I always feel that insult has beenadded to injury when I have to coon-hunt a trout after I've succeeded in flip-ping it out of a treacherous pool.

Beavers, too, have claimed this streamfor their home and have dammed it threetimes within a mile. Around their homesthe water has spread, surrounding treeswhich resemble cypress in the Great Dis-mal swamp. And here lie the wary oldtrout that have survived many a fishingseason. We usually garner half a dozenfrom this spot for our supper.Farther down the river the steep banksare rocky and wreathed in wild roses.While I fish with one eye on the busi-ness in hand I bend the other one on thebank in a diligent search for rattlers sun-ning themselves. I was intent on hookinga trifling trout and carelessly neglectedmy snake hunting. A warning rattlesounded and I leaped waist deep into theice cold water just as a harmless watersnake floated past me and a buzzing jar-fly lighted on a twig close to my headand resumed his vibrations. Strange as it

may seem the astonished fish swallowedthe bait and struggled to get under asubmerged log. I looked at my brother;"Fisherman!" There was a world ofpleading in that one word."Every man for himself!" was theheartless answer and he rolled on thebank and laughed. I dragged that troutfrom under the log and hauled him toshore. And then we left there.Back to Springerville we resumed ourjourney on U. S. 260 and climbed stead-ily until we reached Alpine. Three miles

from there and close to the New Mexicoborder, a side road led directly to theshore of a tiny lake set like a jewel in atiffany mounting of green hills. Fishing,to me, is one of the greatest sports in theworld, but fishing in a blue lake 7000feet high, where one can look for a hun-dred miles and see distant mountains sil-houetted against the sunset, is supreme.Across the lake cows grazed on the grassgrowing to the water's edge. A suddenthunder storm broke from the storm capsrising behind the mountains and greatwarm drops of rain flattened against thelake water. We crawled into slickers and

Trout stream in the scenic Whitemountains of Arizona.were warm and dry while we fished fromthe red volcanic ledge against which thewater lapped. The trout struck hungrilyat salmon eggs and we caught our limitbefore sunset. We stopped fishing earlybecause each of us had staked the stag-gering sum of 40 cents on the Schmel-mg-Louis fight, and we wanted nothingto interfere when it came time to turn onthe car radio.

"Shall we eat before the fight?" I ask-ed Fisherman."Sure. Otherwise it'll be nine o'clockbefore we get any supper. Those boyswill stall for a few rounds!"Back in the pines from the lake wemade camp. Fisherman gathered woodfor the camp fire and broke fat-wood outfrom a pine stump for kindling while Ifried bacon and trout and made coffee.It's funny how good trout taste out inthe woods. Fried to a crisp brown, sprin-kled with salt and pepper and eaten with-out benefit of knife or fork they justnaturally melt from sight. I licked thelast crumb from my fingertips and turnedthe dial. Time for the fight."Bur-r-r-r-r, Grin-n-n-nd-d-d, Scre-e-e-c-c-c-h!" Warming up in the high alti-tude with an electrical storm hoveringnear the radio made weird noises. "Zip-p-p-p-p, and that blow, ladie-e-s and gen-tlemen, finished the fight!" From sevenuntil eleven o'clock I fought static andswing music until the Richfield Reportertold us what really happened. I reluct-antly handed over 40 cents I'd clutchedhopefully.If you've never shared a camp fire of

fragrant pine high in the mountains with

a companion who knows enough tosmoke silently and leave you to yourthoughts, you've missed one of Nature'sgreatest gifts. On this nigh t the stormclouds drifted apart and a far off moonlooked timidly down to mark a pathacross the dark waters of the lake. Onthe other side a lonely calf appealed tohis mother and she answered in reassur-ing tones. An owl scolded softly to him-self about some wrong done him and Icrawled into my sleeping bag. As I zip-pered myself securely inside the bag Ihoped, as always, that some comfort lov-ing rattlesnake hadn't pre-empted theplace and homesteaded.Fisherman evidently wasn't ready forslumber and he turned the radio dial toan eastern station in search of somethingbesides "swing" which we both detest. Iwatched the stars twinkling between thebranches above me and listened. "O, Ihear that New River train, O, I hear thatNew River train. It's the same old train,

!" I drifted to sleep thinking of thewildly beautiful New River canyon wherewe were born. There was a change in theprogram. Lights were out and only a fewembers shone dully in the ashes. Th emoon gave enough light for me to see acoyote sitting on his tail protesting longand loudly about some imaginary grief,or, perhaps after all it was genuine. Heleft behind him an empty pan that hadbeen full of gingerbread intended forbreakfast. I had made the gingerbread.Five o'clock found breakfast over,camp broken and the fire buried. I baited

the hook with a nice juicy fishing wormwrapped around a salmon eg g and drop-ped it into the water preparatory to cast-ing. Instantly a fish struck and my reelsang as he started south. The battle lastedseveral minutes during which time I wasvaguely conscious of a large pulpy per-son annoying me with "Neighbor, givehim slack! Reel him in! Run up the bankand pull your line in! Here, let me landhim!" I not only had to fight the fish butit was necessary to defend with elbowsand black looks the right to catch myown fish. At last I had a 15-inch brooktrout safely strung."Now, neighbor, I wouldn't want totell you how to fish""It's mutual. I wouldn't want you to!"And he drifted sadly away to kibitzer hisway through the day. As he rounded theturn small rocks rolled his feet fromunder him and he sat down with a re-sounding smack. "Oh, my goodness, mygoodness!" said he. Fisherman and I feltthat God was still in His Heaven.By ten o'clock we had caught 30 nicetrout and since the game warden wasvisiting with us most of the time, ourbetter judgment told us to go back to thePetrified Forest.

S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 3 8 13


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Laying adobe bricks at LaPurisima Mission

H ouse o f 'dob e>By LON GARRISON

For a l l-year comfort , modern man has notb e e n a b l e to i m prove m uc h on the mud h o u s e sprehis tor ic Indians were bui ld ing on the de s e r tp e r h a p s 600ye a r s a go . T rue t he re ha v e be e nsome re f inements both in s t ruc tura l me thod andi n a p p e a r a n c e b u t a d o b e mud st i l l remainso n e of the bes t insula t ing mate r ia l s used forbu i l d i ng pu rpo s e s . He re are s om e h i n t s forprospec t ive bui lde rs , wri t t en wi th cha rac te r i s t i cLon Garr i son humor.

c o u r s e there aresome folkswhofeel that a house made of adobemud is a bit too homespun forgenteel occupancy. But for those whosesense of values is unhampered by suchnotions, the adobe house remains justwhat it has always been to the desertdwellera cool, comfortable place to callHome Sweet Home.

Having decided to erect a house ofadobe, one of the first problems to besolved by thebuilder is where to find thedirt to make the bricks. Strange to re-late, most any kind of dirt will doex-cept 'dobe. Real adobe soil contains toomuch clay and cracks wide open whendried.It is a good idea to experiment withthe various soils and see how they workout. If the texture is too sandy and thebricks crumble, add clay. If the soil con-

tains too much clay and the bricks crack

when dry, add sand. A good clay-loamsoil is best.Shovel a four-inch layer of this into amixing trough such as plasterers use.And, since one of theeconomies of adobebrick for building is that it allows theuse of unskilled laborin this instance,meaning youget your hoe and bust upall the bigclods. Then runwater in untila nice gooey mud results. You might evenge t in and squish-squash around in itwith your toes. It all helps, and sinceyou're unskilled labor anyway it won'tmake much difference if theneighbors dosee you.Next add the strawa layer about halfas thick as the layer of mud. This shouldbe mixed in with a hoe or pitchfork toge t a good thorough distribution. Themess should be completely soaked, yetstiff enough to stay piled up. The pur-pose of the straw is one of those thingslike the riddle of theSphinx. Some adobe

builders saythat the straw is the tie thatbinds the brick more firmly together-gives it unity, coherence, and more of it,so to speak. Othe rs insist that it is theother way around, the straw is to breakup the homogeneity of the material andreduce thermal conductivity.Frank S.Pinkley, superintendent of theSouthwestern National Monuments r>tCasa Grande, Arizona, suggests that thestraw may be for blotting purposes. Thatis, during a rain storm, capillary attrac-tion sucks the moisture in along thestraws without disintegrating the exteri-or of the brick. As soon as the storm isover, theprocess is reversed and themois-ture steals away like the Arabs, ieivingthe brick undam aged. Take your pick asto theories, but put in the strawor hayor grassor even manure if you thinkyour wife can stand the smell.Having mixed the bricks, the nextthing is to mold them. Select a fairly level



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spot and cover with a thin layer of loosedirt, sand, or straw to keep the brickfrom sticking to the ground. Then makea brick mold. This can have from one tothree compartments. And as to brick size,that is up to you to figure out. The mostcommon size seems to be 12x18x4 butthere is no law on the subject except theold economic law about supply and de-mand. Lay the mold on the ground, ladleit full of brick mixture and pat each moldcompartment full. Do more than thatbe firm about it. Stomp the stuff in so allthe corners and cracks are full. Level thetop and you're ready to lift off the moldand make some more bricks. A metal lin-ing in the mold makes it lift off easierand gives better looking edges and cor-ners. Bricks should not be moved for sev-eral days, depending on the weather, butwhen they can be stacked they should bestood on edge, not too close together, andallowed two or three weeks to seasonthoroughly. They should be well protect-ed from rain during this period.See if They'll Break

Mr. Pinkley of Casa Grande cites anold Mexican test of a brick. Hold a com-pleted, dried brick flat in your arms atbreast height and drop it on the ground,first moving your toes back out of theway. The brick should land flat, and if itbusts it is no good and you can proceedto the test of the next brick. But if it sur-vives in one chunk, you have done a goodjob.The number of bricks you will need to

mold and pile is up to you to figure out.And at this stage of the game you mightas well get used to taking lots of time forfiguring. Tru e, you are only unskilledlabor, but one of the first axioms seemsto be that building an adobe house is likethe construction of Romewhich lias setthe standard for most government jobssince thendon't try to do it in a hurry.In fact there is one stage of the workwhere experts advise waiting at least 60days between steps. But let's go on aboutplans.One of the advantages of an adobehome is that the thick walls and their re-

markable insulating value make for anoteworthy evenness of temperature insidethe house. An d of course, the greaterthe temperature extremes, the thicker thewalls should be. In places with suddenand wide variations, you may find it help-ful to plan double walls with an air spacebetween them. This is just one of theU pper picture Mixing Adobe mudfor brick. La Purisima mission. Photoby Park Service.Lower picture Window and beamdetail, Adobe building at ZoologicalState Park. Photo Park Service.

S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 3 8


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things to keep in mind before you beginon the foundation.A foundation of rock and cement isusually best, dug down below frost line.It should be completely waterproofedwhere it contacts the bricks. A woodensill laid on the foundation helps and thisshould be covered with a layer of tarpaper to head off our old friend capillari-ty whom we met some paragraphs previ-ously. Andwhile it is true that theflooris best put in separately and in fact isusually built to the walls, a little fore-sight in providing footings for the sillsand joists will be a big help later. Youcan add that to the things youwill wantto figure on.

M ud for MortarFor building the walls, the bricks arelaid just as in any brick construction,breaking the joints with each course. Formortar you canmost handily use some ofthe same material youused for thebricks,

with the straw left out. If you prefer, amixture of onepart lime with three partsof sand adds to thestrength of the build-ing but increases the cost.And, as you go up with thewalls, thefiguring you have done will demonstratejust where you will want to leave gapsfor windows and doors. Frames for thesecan either be set in with lots of mortar,or tacked to blocks of wood set in withthe bricks, or both. It is after you get tothe tops of thewindows andhave the lin-tels in that thebest figuring comes along.At that point some experts advise wait-ing 60 to 90 days before proceeding toallow the bricks to dry and settle thor-oughly along the windows. What patch-ing is needed can then be taken care ofbefore the roof is on. It is at this stagethat some contract jobs prove unsatisfac-tory. The work is done in a hurry, thewalls settle away from thewindow framesand unsightly cracks result. But, since

you areunskilled labor you will have timeto figure your wayaround that difficulty.Besides, you need time to figure on theroof.When thewalls are finished, provide agood firm cappinga heavy timber isbest for this although a layer of concreteis satisfactory. On the capping lay yourroof timbers and then add the Roof ofYour Dreams.For extremely dry country where a flatroof is to be used the following proce-dure should besatisfactory. First, use veryheavy roof timbers. Carry thewalls on sev-eral courses above the timbers and coverwith several layers of tar paper. On thisspread a generous layer of roofing tar,and then lay flat a layer of adobe brick,leaving two-inch seams. Fill these crackswith mortar, and add enough more untilthe whole thing is smoothed up evenly.After this has dried, add another layerof bricks, laid at right angles to thefirstbricks, and smooth the surface with lotsof mortar, paying particular attention tothe joint with the roof parapet. Allowthis to dry well and then with a spraygun, apply at least six layers of linseedoil, allowing each layer to dry thorough-ly. Rain drains must be provided in theform of little funnels or scuppers alongthe timbers and the job is ready to oper-ate as a roof.

Takes Tall Figurin'Of course, if you prefer, you may adda pitch roofsingle or double, depend-ing onhow good you are at figuring. Ingeneral, themore rain there is in your lo-cality, the wider the eaves should be,which is just another item foryou to keepin mind. And you can build a two storyhouse if you want toeven with orna-

Caretakers' lodge of adobe. Zoo-logical State P ark of California. Na-tional Park Service Photo.

mental arches, but it takes high class fig-uring to do it.To finish the outside walls, the mostcommon treatment is whitewash. This iseffective, attractive, and not very durable.If it is used, it is best to waterproof thewall first and as good a treatment as anyfor this purpose is to apply several coatsof linseed oil with a spray gun. Mudmortar will smooth thewalls but it takesconsiderable finesse to make lime mortarstick. For smooth plaster finishes, it willbe most satisfactory to fasten chicken wireto thewalls by means of short wire hooksand then plaster the wire.For the inside walls it is customary touse smaller brick, or brick laid thenarrowway. And while you are building thefloors to thewalls is a good time to beginsome more figuring on the finishes forthe inside walls. Whitewash rubs off. Thecommon mudmortar will smooth up thewalls so that paint will stick but the mudchips off easily leaving a spotted effect.Commercial plaster will notstick withoutspecial treatment.

Jim Has Paint RecipeJim Livingston, anexpert who has con-structed many adobe homes in SouthernArizona, has his own method of gettingaround that difficulty. From an encyclo-pedia of formulas he has taken a white-wash recipe with variations to suit thejob. This mixture can be applied likewhitewash, dries glossy white, will notrub off, and can be used as a base forpaint or left as is and renewed as needed.It can be made in any color, and seems

to be just what you'll need to help youfigure things out so they will look right.First, slack !/2 bushel of lime, usinghot water, and strain through a screen ofat least 16mesh.Add6 pounds of salt dissolved in hotwater; 3 pounds of rice boiled to a thin

Continued onpage 24

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DIGNITY Photo by Wm. M . Pennington

Feel of the DesertBy John Stewart MacClary

(7 UDGE CLAH, as he was known, is said to have been one of the strongest\I native characters ever to have come from the San Juan district of the&^ Navajo Indian reservation. As preserved in this Pennington photo-por-trait the features of the old-time tribal judge bear eloquent testimony of thefirm dignity he possessed.The countenances of his two wives suggest that Judge Clah's firmnessmight not have been reserved for use in tribal courts of justice alone. It seemsincredible that the Navajo nam e of this austere d ignitary me ant "Left-handedand curly-haired."S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 3 8 17


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SON!Somewhere your eyes light up to beauty near or far;Somewhere your spirit lives where kindred spirits are.Along the paths of loneliness your feet, rough-shod,Through canyons dark and steep and treacherous have trod.Across the windy desert-stretch you found your way,An Indian hogan sheltered you at close of day.Tjp winding, rugged trails you eagerly have goneTo watch the mystery of stars and vibrant dawn.Brave storm-tossed trees companioned you, bright waysideflowersFaint tinkle of the burro-bells, bold granite towers,Remembered melodies, and chanted poetry.Somehow your thoughts are winging through the clouds to me.by Everett's Mother, Stella Knight Ruess.

Everett Ruess was not the first human beingto vanish in the grim desert wildernessnor isit likely he will be the last. But because of theunusual character of this young man and thestrange circumstances of his disappearance,there still remains after four years of fruitlesssearch a widespread interest in this desertmystery. The accompanying picture of Everettwas taken two years before his disappear-ance. The dog. Curly, was his companion onmany trips.

"Say tha tI Kept

M y Dream"BY HUGH LACY

I J/ HEREVER poets, adventurers and wanderers of the\/y Southwest gather, the story of Everett Ruess will betold. His name, like woodsmoke, conjures far horizons.Everett left Kayenta, Arizona, November 11, 1934, to write,paint and explore among a group of ancient Indian cliffdwellings. His last letter to his parents in Los Angeles ex-plained that he would be unable to communicate for tenweeks. Alone with his paints, books and two burros, he dis-appeared into what is probably the most uninhabited, unvisit-ed section of the United States.He never came back.A sheepherder reported seeing him on November 19 nearwhere Escalante Creek flows into the Colorado.At the first alarm of his prolonged absence, volunteersorganized searching parties, combed the hills and canyons fordays. Signal fires were built, guns fired. Indians and scoutssought water holes for signs of his passing.In Davis Canyon Everett's two burros were located, con-tentedly grazing as if he had just left them expecting shortlyto return.Then, one after another, the searching parties returnedwithout Everett. True to his camping creed, "When I go, Ileave no trace," he disappearedinto thin air.The desert claimed Everett Ruess. Writer, adventurer andartist, the desert's trails were his roads to romance. His paint-ings captured the black-shadowed desolation of cliff dwell-ings. His poetry told of wind and cliff ledge. He sang of thewasteland's moods. Everett belonged to the desert. And in theend, it claimed him.He was one of the earth's oddlingsone of the wanderingfew who deny restraint and scorn inhibition. His life was a

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quest for the new and the fresh. Beauty was a dream. He pur-sued his dream into desert solitudesthere with the singingwind to chant his final song.Everett's quest began earlyand ended early. As a childhe turned from toys to explore color and rhyme. Woodcarv-ing, claymodeling and sketching occupied his formative yearsin New York and near Chicago. From this early backgroundgrew his versatility in the artsmedia through which he laterinterpreted the multihued desert.At 12 Everett found his elementwriting. He wrote in-quiring essays, haunting verse; he began a literary diary. Thediary matured into travel-worn, adventure-laden tomes. Windand rain added marks to the penciled pages, scrawled by thelight of many campfires.At 15 Everett was a member of Mrs. Snow Longley Housh's1929 creative poetry class at the Los Angeles High School.An earlier spur to verse writing occurred with his winning

Mrs. Marguerite Ball Dickson's book, "Tumbleweeds" as anaward for his Indian poem, "The Relic," written while astudent at Valparaiso High School, Indiana. The silence ofwilderness nights during his desert vagabondage was brokenby his chant of remembered songspoems that (in hisdiaries) he stated lifted his spirits and renewed his courage.Even in early years the wild called Everett. The ocean'srestlessness matched his own; mountains lured him; the des-ert fascinated him. His poems were of space, wind, sand, andsage.And then, at 18 his hope-dream of distance crystallized.He wrote his last boyish essay. In part"One night, long ago, while I tossed restlessly upon mybed, an idea crystallized within me . . . My brain was busiedwith tense imaginings . . . In my mind I conjured up a

thousand forgotten cities, left behind by the years; sheer greymountains; mile upon mile of bare, unfriendly desert; coldlakes . . . jungles filled with deadly snakes, immense butter-flies, brilliant colors, fever and death. I swam in coral-tintedwaters. Through insufferable heat and incessant downpours Iplodded forward."On bleak, windswept coasts . . . I pitched my camps. Onthe banks of the sluggish Amazon I built my fires . . I trampedalone through wildernesses . . . On storm-lashed islandsI stood, surveying far-off mou ntain peaks. The n I campedbeneath them in shadowed valleys, watching the sunset . . .These are the things I saw and the experiences I lived throughthat night long past. Now it is night againthe night beforeI go. Once more I think of that which lies ahead."Bitter pain is in store for me, but I shall bear it. Beautybeyond all power to convey shall be mine . . . Death mayawait me . . . Not through cynicism and ennui will I be easy

prey. And regardless of all that may befall, let me not befound to lack an understanding of the inscrutable humor ofit all."That was Everett's farewell to boyhood and home.He journeyed by horse and burro in Arizona, New Mexico,Utah, and Colorado during 1931, '32 and '34. Through thesummers of '30 and '34 he trekked the length and breadthof Sequoia and Yosemite Parks and the High Sierra. As hewandered he sang remembered themes from the great operasand symphonies. He read, wrote, painted and thought, andwas formulating a philosophy to meet the exigencies of hisartist -vag abond existence. .".''*'Everett's last letter to his brother, Wa ldo, said, " . . . as towhen I revisit civilization, it will not be soon- I have nottired of the wilderness . . . I prefer the saddle to the street

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A friendly hiker who metEverettwith his dog andpack burro on thetrail took this picture and sent :tto theboy's parents.

car, and thestar-sprinkled sky to theroof, theobscure anddifficult leading into theunknown . . . It is enough that Iam surrounded with beauty . . . This hasbeen a full, richyear. I have left nostrange or delightful thing undone thatI wanted to do."In Arizona herode broncos, branded calves andexploredcliff dwellings, where as he wrote, "The dim and silentcenturies invade." In1934heworked with University of Cal-ifornia archeologists excavating near Kayenta. He was theonly white man tobe painted that year by the Hopis fortheirtraditional Antelope Dance. He spoke Navajo and sang Indiansongs. Once with a painted brave he chanted prayer-songsat the bedside of asick Indian girl.As he traveled he sold or traded blockprints andwater-colors.He endured stoicallylike a good Indianthe hardshipsof his lonely life.Among the earth's wastelands hefound nepenthe forwhathe termed "an undercurrent of restlessness and wild longing."He often said, "Itoo, long forthat inner stillness, but I haveyet more of the wild songs ofyouth tosing."Alone inan immensity ofdrifting sand and fingerlike peaks,Everett forgot the passage of time. He forgot that civilization

awaited hisreturn. Everett forgot all but themystery ladenvoice ofthe wind, promising toreveal tohim the secreciesofdistance. Here was thebeauty he sought. Heabsorbed themauve and pastel splendor, climbed cliffs, explored, forgettingto return . . .So far as is known, Everett did notlive to see his 21stbirthday, March 28, 1935. Numerous theories fail toexplainhis disappearance. Only thewind towhich hewas pledged(a t 15 hewrote thepoem, "I Have Given theWind MyPledge,") knows theanswer to theriddle.Strangely prophetic, these lines from his "WildernessSong:""Say that I starved; that I was lost and weary;That Iwas burned and blinded by the desert sun;Footsore, thirsty, sick with strange diseases;Lonely and wet and cold, but that I kept my dream!"A small insurance policy onEverett's life has been turnedinto anannuity. Each year, while hisparents live, boys andgirls of the southwestern states that Everett traversed will beinvited tocompete forhonors inthe arts heloved. So in hissilence hewill live oncreatively.His parents express the hope that more mothers and fathersmay establish similar living memorials tosons and daughterswhose life songs break after a stanza.And so toEverett. He kept his dream!

NEW SEARCH MAY BE ORGANIZEDSince theforegoing story of Everett Ruess waswritten, the Desert Magazine has received the fol-lowing letter from the author, Hugh Lacy, throw-ing some additional light on thestrange disap-pearance ofthe Ruess boy.The Desert MagazineEl Centro, California,Dear Mr. Henderson:Several newclues have come to light sincemy story about Everett Ruess waswritten.A SanFrancisco feature writer, whocoveredthe search for Everett for United Press, is nowgathering more information and is hot onthe case,hoping tosolve themystery.Several interested persons in recent corre-spondence with theRuess family brought to lightthat there aretwo Wilson's mesas. Wilson's mesawas one of thepoints Everett intended taking inon the trip during which he was lost. Only oneWilson's mesa was searched. As a result, interestin thesearch has been renewed, although atpres-ent the parents have not had sufficient time toauthenticate the existence of another Wilson'smesa. I checked maps with several LosAngeleslibrarians andcould find only one. Then I calleda LosAngeles geologist who has explored thatarea and he assured methere are two. The sec-ond, he said, according to the U. S. GeologicalSurvey index, is near LaSalle mountain.Another searching expedition may be or-ganized. Also, reports from different sources haverecently reached the parents of three differentyouths seen in thedesert, any one ofwhommayhave been young Ruess. One woman identified apicture ofhim as a boy she hadseen last year.I would like to suggest that anyone possess-ing information in any waypertinent to thecasewrite to me at 141Milna Avenue, Whittier, Cali-fornia. Cordially yours,HUGH M.LACY.



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S t o r y o f t h e R a n g eT o l d in B ran ding Irons

By RAYMOND F. LAW

/ A N Y years ago a young Texas/I/I cowboy named Burk Burnett sat ina poker game one night, and byluck and skill managed to acquire most ofthe money on the table.Th e final hand was played. Burn ett'sprincipal opponent, a wealthy cattleman,said:"I'll bet my ranch and cattle againstyour pile."Burnett called, showed four sixes, andwon the ranch. Th e next day he startedmarking the cattle with a new brand,6666.The history of the western cattle coun-try is full of such incidents, and the manwho can tell you about them is John P.Hale. At his home in Mesa, Arizona, hehas a collection of more than 300 brand-ing irons, and when he relates theirstories you can almost smell the burninghair as the hot metal sears the side of astruggling calf. For him the history ofthe Southwest is written on the hides ofcattle and horses.In eight years Hales hobby has madehim an authority on brand ing irons. Itstarted when he was made chairman of aMasonic banquet given in honor of anold westerner, Jack Fraser of Mesa, whoonce had 476,00 0 acres of land and alarge number of cattle. Hale got a bunchof Fraser's JF branding irons and decor-ated the banquet room with them. Theidea clicked, and Fraser was so pleased hegave Hale one of the irons. Tha t laidthe foundation of the world's finest col-lection of those utilitarian but symbolic

tools of the range.The collection grew until it now in-cludes items from any famous westernranch you can name, and from outfits inCanada, Mexico, South America, Hawaii,New Zealand, Australia, and in fact,wherever cattle are raised.Hale gathers irons and runs down theirhistories when he isn't occupied with thelife insurance business, which he saystakes most of his time. But he managesto get around a good deal to give infor-mal talks about his irons, and is in his ele-ment at cattlemen's meetings. His abil-ity as a hobbyist of the first order was rec-

ognized last fall when he was called to

John P. Hale, H-year-old life in-surance man of Mesa, Arizona, whocollects cattle branding irons as ahobby. He has more than 300 irons,the largest collection of its kindknown.New York for a radio broadcast on hiscollection."In choosing a hobby, be sure to pickone in which your wife is interested," headvises. "It was many months before mywife would let me bring an iron into thehouse. No w she goes to the cattlemen'sconventions with me, helps me exploreold corrals and barns, and criticizes myletters and literary efforts. My daughterhad a hard time in kindergarten learningthe difference between the letters of thealphabet and cow brand symbols. "

Red hot irons have been used for cen-turies to sear symbols of ownership on thehides of cattle. D isputes over such "coatsof arms" of the range account for manyan incident of cattle rustling, lynchingand gun-play in the annals of the OldWest."The brands of the western cowmenare marks of esteem which comprise an

BRANDSthat belong to well knownnames in the cattle industry.

Will Rogers

Jack Frasermm

Duke of Windsor

Burk Burnett

King Ranch{Texas)

7

Stephen F. Austin

John W. Young

Miller-Lux{California)

Santa Marguerita{California)

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U t'

- .,,,

7>OJ-; actually used tobrand ca ttle in allparts of the ivorld, are evidence ofthe persistency and diplomacy with which John P. Hale has pursued his hobby.Linked with every iron is a story, and a composite of these stories would be a thrillinghistory of thecattle industry.historical index," said Hale . "Treasuredas only feudal lords of an earlier ageguarded their heraldic devices and coatsof arms, these irons have been handeddown from generation to generation. Theweird symbols seared on the hides ofcountless cattle that roam the Americanranges today have made and are makinghistory. Though the most accomplishedlinguist would be at a loss trying to readthem, they are an open book to the mostilliterate cowhand who ever cursed a barbwire fence."

Two types of branding irons are com-monly used. The stamp iron burns, withone impression, the entire symbol. Therunning iron is heated and used by thecowboy to draw a free-hand insigniawhich often calls for considerable skill.Brands areuseful in fixing ownership ofcattle because once applied they cannot be22

removed. True , they may be changed,but that is difficult to do successfully inthis day of fenced areas.In the early days of the cattle industryin the Southwest, brands sometimes cov-

ered the whole side of an animal, runningfrom shoulder to hip. They were easilyread at a distance and were difficult tochange. Now, with thevalue of the hidestaken into consideration, most brandscover an area six inches square or less.Cattle owners select their brands care-fully, and when recorded they becomelegal evidence of livestock ownership.Often the initials of the owner or of thename of the ranch are used, but some-times considerable imagination and artis-tic feeling are displayed.Brands take the form of letters,num-

erals, squares, triangles, diamonds, quar-

ter circles, bars, crosses, hearts andcount-less miscellaneous shapes. Hale points tobrands in his collection showing a rock-ing chair, a pair of spectacles, a hoofprint, andiron, wrench, rake, pitchforkand star.One ofhis most interesting irons is thatowned by the late Will Rogers, theworld's most famous cowboy.

Rogers called hisbrand the"Dog Iron"because it looks like an andiron or firedog. He started in thecattle business in1890 with a herd of 65 dogies, givenhim by his father, Clem Rogers. W ill'sventure succeeded, and he scorched thedog iron on a good-si2ed herd before sell-ing out andgoing to Argentina to punchcows. Later he went to South Africa,about the time of theBoer War.In the early 1900s land in the IndianThe DESERT MAGAZINE


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Territory, now Oklahoma, was thrownopen for settlement by homesteaders, andthat marked the end of most large cowoutfits in the region. Th e Rogers ranchat Oolagah once included more than 200sections of land, but now has dwindledto about 1700 acres. When Will re-turned from his trav els, activity at theranch had languished, so he took his lariatand cowboy lingo to th e stage to startthe theatrical phase of his career.Will's father branded his cattle CVand his horses J4. W ill often mentionedwith pride these brands and his own inhis talks and newspaper writings. He wasborn in the old double log house whichstill serves as the ranch headquarters.Herb McSpadden, now manager, was as-signed the job of rebuilding the longneglected property. He found one of theold dog irons on the place, and knowingits history, continued to use it on cattle.Knowing Will's interest, he branded afew ponies with it and sent the iron to

his boss, then living in Beverly Hills,California.Hale is full of such stories, illustratedby items in his collection.

Problem of DiplomacyIt took a couple of years of letter writ-ing to get the brand of the Duk e ofWindsor's EP Ranch in Calgary, Alberta.All the Duke's cattle carry EP branded onthe ribs. His horses are adorned with athree-feather brand which is a symbol ofthe crest of the Principality of Wa les,three ostrich feathers. The Duke bought

the ranch in 1919 while he was Prince ofWales.The brand of the largest ranch in theworld today, the King Ranch in Texas, isin the Hale collection, and Hale can tellyou all about that vast cattle domain. Inpre-Civil War days, Robert E. Lee, whilestationed w ith the U . S. cavalry inBrownsville, Texas, formed a friendshipwith a steamboat pilot named RichardKin g, who was interested in cattle. Leepredicted a promising future for that partof the country as a cattle area, and hisprophecy came true. Kin g was attractedby the vast ranges covered with abundantfeed, the mild climate and cheap labor. Hefirst bought the Santa Gertrudis ranch,and by hard work and shrewd manage-ment made it a valuable property. More& tS land was added until the King Ranch to-day embraces nearly 1,000,000 acres, overwhich 75,000 cattle graze. These vastherds are branded with the "RunningW " and are cared for by 350 Mexicanvaqueros. Th e place is modern in everyway, operated in a scientific manner, andis a cowman's dream come true.Vast as the King Ranch is, there was

once one three times as large. Lands wereplentiful when the Lone Star state wasnew, but there was no money to erect astate capital. In exchange for 3,000,000acres, embracing ten counties, the CapitolSyndicate Company gave the state enoughmoney to build a capitol, and the largestranch ever to exist in the United Statescame into being. Thou sands of cattlebranded XIT grazed over this great areain the Panhandle section. XIT, once thebest known of all American brands, meant"Ten in Texas," that is, ten counties.

Arizona, too, once had a vast cattle do-main, about a million acres smaller thanthe XI T. The Hashknife outfit of theA2tec Cattle Company in northern Ari-zona got its name from the cattle brandwhich resembled an old kitchen choppingknife. The original cattle were unloadedat Holbrook and Flagstaff in 1886, sentfrom over-grazed Texas ranges by theContinental Cattle Company.Tough Cows in Texas

The late Will C. Barnes, an authorityon cattle history, who ran cattle in thatcountry at the time, is quoted by Hale asdeclaring "Those Texas cows could standmore grief, use less food, drink less water,and bear more calves than any cows thatever wore a br and. Th e ow ners alsobrought with them a bunch of men ofequal meanness, wildness and ability tosurvive almost anything in the way ofhardships and sheriffs."Hashknife riders engaged in many acattle feud and sheep-cattle war of theday. For several years the outfit flour-ished, records showing 16,000 calveswere branded during the season of 1888.In time the range was grazed off, andyears of drought and hard winters de-pleted the herds. In 1900 the remainingstock was shipped away. Th e brand hasfallen into disuse except on a few cowsnear Winslow owned by Babbit Brothers.Few of the great ranches of early cat-tle days exist in their original form anddimensions. Vast acreages have beenbroken up into small holdings, and thefree and open ranges have been fencedinto pastures. Modern homes and barnshave replaced the temporary camps usedby cowpunchers of a generation or twoago. Rangeland feuds are no more, andcooperative marketing has been devel-oped.But they still grow cattle in the vastspaces of the Southwest, and as long asIhere are cattle there will be brands.Hale may not have all of them, but hecomes nearer that goal than any other

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"--An' then it started rainin'ashes out on the Pacific"CARLYLE ELLIS of Hol l ywood won the Deser t Magaz ine 'sHot AirContes t in July. Andhe re is they a r n he to ld about ac e r t a i n s um m e r da y out on the Mojave dese r t of California:

/~ \ T the end of a long hot journey trees. W ell, I can tell 'em. I saw it hap-/ / across the parched floor of one of pen. Only livin' man that did, I guess."those Mojave desert dry lakes I I had heard about that mesquiteandcame at last to a tepid pool of water with had been told it was grubbed out by aa lone cottonwood tree growing beside it. homesteader who filed on the land. ButLounging in the shade was another I said nothing.wandereran ancient and sun-dried "Let me tell you," he went on withnomad of the desert. his story. "That wasa hot day! I sat"Kind of warm," I remarked by way watching this here lake dry up in two orof introduction as I slumped to the three hours, leavin' nothing but a bigground beside him. spring in a 10-foot hole over there in the"Beg to differ, stranger," he answered middle. Then the sun got into that holepromptly. "I'd call this practically cold, an' purty soon the spring begun toThis durned desert ain't what she used steam. In no time there was a jet of hotto be. Why I remember one day, sittin' Sp ra y spoutin' up like a geyser, mayberight in this spot, maybe 50 years ago 50 feet, maybe a hundred.n 0 ' 6 ' , , . "But it got hotter still and I own I7 he cottonwood shade was soothing. f d t k i n d a S o 1 d i m b t h a t b u t t eThere was thepromise of a good story s e e o v e f t h e r e a n d h o l e d ^ n t o a n o l dso I reached in my pocket for my pipe I n d i a n c a v e a n d ] o o k e d Qu t o v e f t h g y a l .and indicated I was ready to listen. l e y j w a s j u s t i n t i m e"See them miles of bare desert? Used . .Y o uk n o w > w h e n a i r g e t s hot it rises,to be covered with thick mesquite grow- T h a t a i r s u f e w a s h o t a n d t h e h o t t e f s h ein around a purty lake. Folks have been t t h e f a s t e f s h e f i z T h e d f a f t w a swondering for years what became of them t h e w o r s t j e v e r w i s h t o Ser a n d g e t d n . worser. First it began pickin' up deadleaves and dust and twigs. Then when itpulled up all the loose stuff it begandraggin' at that there mesquite brush.JULY REPORT FROM "Stranger, you 'd hardly believe it if itU. S. BUREAU ATPHOENIX wasn't me tellin' you, but that there up-Temperatures Degrees d r a f t b e g a n loosenin' up the youngerMean for month 90.3 trees and before you'ld say, 'Scat, youNormal for July 89.8 durn coyote!' some o' them trees got free.High on July 31st 112. G h {h d J d ;,,Low on July 5th 67. ' 'Rain Inches "But that ain't the worst. The treesTotal for month 0.25 was soon comin' out o' that sand likeW ^ t h - f O r J u l y l-07 hair on a mangy dogwhole acres at aDays clear 24 timethen by the mile. And they didn'tDays partly cloudy 5 just sail off down the valley. They wentDays cloudy 2 straight upmillions of them, till theyG. K. GREENING, Meteorologist. m a J e the biggest blackest cloud youFROM YUMA BUREAU e v e r saw."Temperatures Degrees The old man bit off a fresh quid andMean for month 90.6 came to rest

Normal for July 90.8


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nInglewood, CaliforniaDear Mr. McKenney:Your interesting magazine once moreat hand, which, as always, has been en-joyed.We believe we

193809 desert magazine 1938 september

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