A Glimpse of the Desert [pp. 73-77]

]A Glimpse of the Desert.
lengthens, and the fierce heat of summer breaks, and the snow is melted from
the neighboring sierra, the two families
will leave their castles and take themselves to some cool cafion, high up
among the pines, to wait till the heat is
over.
The various maneuvers of these two
birds were highly pleasing. They had
a game, or it may have been a bird
quarrel, I could not tell which. As they
were humming about a tree top, suddenly one would fly into the air higher
and higher, until he was lost to sight;
then turning as suddenly he would descend with the speed and whir of a rifle
ball, skimming close over the tree and
ascend in a like curve on the other side.
He did this repeatedly, always chattering with a sharp, piercing cry. As if
tired by the exertion he would then
alight on a twig and preen his feathers,
while startling gleams of flame radiated
from his brilliant throat.
Overhead on a maple prong
The least of birds, a jeweled sprite,
With burnished throat and needle bill,
Wags its head in the golden light,
Till it flashes, and dulls, and flashes bright,
Chirping its microscopic song.
\Vhat pleasure, though one is no
poet, to see almost as the poet sees! It
is a better seeing than the naturalist's.
L,eaving this enchanting spot, I was
again on my way along the trail. The
country grew wilder and more rough.
Cactuses rose from rock piles, grimly
stretching their spiny arms. Agaves
grew all about me. I was in the very
sanctuary of their home. They love
the sunny foothills and thrive best on
rocky soil. Great patches, rods in extent, were covered with their young
shoots.
Thence I wound down into a sandy
ravine between sharp cliffs of white
limestone. There was no sign of a
path, only a level floor of torrent-strewn
sand. The trail entered the canion; it
could not cross over, and great bowlders
blocked my descent. It must, there
fore, go up. I scanned eagerly the
pent-up spaces for an outlet, but for a
mile or more the walls presented an
unbroken front. Finding a path that
led up from the ravine I followed it
some distance to prove whether it was
a trail, or only a blind path leading nowhere. It seemed to lead in the direction I wished to take, but whether it
was the right one or not?
For some distance it was still fairly
good. Sometimes I passed over glassy
granite; again where shale cropped out
and crumbled beneath the hoof; and now
it led between huge bowlders where the
horse could barely pass. The vegetation became more abundant. Dark
green beds of dagger-eared yuccas appeared, and the blossom-stalks of the
agave stood sentineling all the hill-tops.
On one rocky point a huge cactus had
been struck by lighting and curiously
split into three almost equal parts.
I now had every reason to believe
that I was lost, yet a half hope that I
might find some trail leading to the
other side tolled me on. The sun was
low in the west and long shadows
stretched from the rocky peaks over the
bleak brown hills. A lonely feeling of
fear and baffled plans came over me.
Night was approaching; I was lost in
the desert hills without water and without grass,- that which would enable
me to escape.
The scenery grew more wild and
broken and the path a mere windswept
alley between bowlders, traveled only
by the coyote and the mountain sheep.
Stories about mountain lions, bears,
travelers dying of thirst, crowded to my
mind. The trail passed out from the
rocks to the side of a deep narrow
cafion where, from a few hundred feet
below, came the cheering sound of
trickling water.
This gave me a moment's hope, but
at the same instant I heard the croak
of a raven as it sailed away from a
jutting ledge below. I was an intruder
upon a solitude which perhaps no man
l 892.]
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