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LY. 1908 God's Country- -The Desert Voi. xxix. No. i 

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Copyright 1 ■^'^f^Jf U Ul •W»:aWMagazine Company 



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Pacific Coast Factory, San Jose, Cal. 



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The Nation Back of Us, The World in Front 




Out West 

A Magazine of 

The Old Pacific and the New 



(Formerly THE LAND OF SUNSHINE) 



EDITED BY 

Chias. F^. LTammis 

AND 

Chiarles Amadon Nloody 

STAFF — David Starr Jordan, Joaquin Miller, Theodore H. Hlttell, Mary Hallock 
Foote, Margaret Collier Graham, Charles Warren Stoddard, Grace EUery Chan- 
ning, Ina Coolbrith, William Keith, Dr. Washington Matthews, Geo. Parker 
Wlnship, Frederick Webb Hodge, Charles F. Holder, Edwin Markham, 
Geo. Hamlin Fitch, Chas. Howard Shinn, Wm. E. Smythe, T. S. Van 
Dyke, Chas. A. Keeler, Louise M. Keeler, A. F. Harmer, L. May- 
nard Dixon, Charlotte Perkins Stetson Gilman, Constance 
Goddard DuBois, Batterman Lindsay, Charles Dwight 
Wlllard, Elizabeth and Joseph Grinnell, Fred- 
erick Starr, Sharlot M. Hall, Ella 
Higginson, Mary Austin. 



Volume XXIX 
July to December, 1908 



Out West Magazine Company 
LOS ANUBLES, CAL. 



OUT WEST 

INDEX TO VOLUME XXIX 




Page 

Above the Clouds, illustrated, Joseph N. Patterson 325 

Admission Day Address, John F. Davis 308 

Apache Treatment of White Captives, Sharlot M. Hall 216 

Archaeological Institute of America — The Southwest Society 318 

Arizona Cupid, An (story), Edmund Vance Cooke 60 

Artists' Paradise, The, illustrated, Chas. F. Lummis 173, 241 

Aunt Barbara Goes Back East (story), Frances Margaret Fox 444 

Before Dawn in Chinatown, illustrated, Charlton Lawrence Edholm 387 

'Bobolink Field, My (poehi), Laura Mackay 148 

Bungalow Garden in Southern California, Hannah Burton 149 

Cahfornia Songs, Some Early, illustrated, W. J. Handy 430 , 

Call of the Desert, The (poem), Mabel Ann Smith 51 

Captivity With the Apache Indians, and Later Life, of OHve A. Oatman, 

Sharlot M. Hall 216 

Caves, Exploring the Nakimu, illustrated, James Cooke Mills 349 

Chinatown Before Dawn, illustrated, Charlton Lawrence Edholm 387 

Clouds, Above the, illustrated, Joseph N. Patterson 325 

Crab Catchers of the Pacific Coast, The, illustrated, Bonnycastle Dale... 344 

Desert, The — God's Country, illustrated, Sharlot M. Hall 3 

Desert-Hungry (poem), Lucy J. White 207 

Enchanted Burro, The (story), Chas F. Lummis 275 

Eucalyptus Blossoms (poem), Margaret Adelaide Wilson 152 

Exploring the Nakimu Caves, illustrated, James Cooke Mills 349 

Felipe's Sugaring-Oflf (story), Chas. F. Lummis 471 

Fire, Halemaumau, The House of, illustrated, D. S. Richardson 418 

Flag, A Historic, illustrated, W. J. Handy 123 

Forest Service, The United States, illustrated, Will C. Barnes 89 

'Forty-Niners, In the Land of the, illustrated, Sharlot M. Hall 397 

Garden, A Southern California, Hannah Burton 149 

God's Country — The Desert, illustrated, Sharlot M. Hall 3 

Growth and Development of a Southern California Seaport, illustrated, 

specially contributed 159 

Gypsy, A (poem) , Laura Mackay 370 

Halemaumau, The House of Fire, illustrated, D. S. Richardson 418 

Hash Wrastler, The (poem), Sharlot M. Hall 140 

Historic Flag, A, illustrated, W. J. Handy 123 

Hour of Idleness, An (poem), Marion Cummings Stanley 193 

Idyl of Bugville, An (story), Charlton Lawrence Edholm 284 

Improving the Conditions of the Indians 393 

In Don Antonio's Garden (story), Gertrude B. Millard 463 

In the Land of the 'Forty-Niners, illustrated, Sharlot M. Hall 397 

In Tune (poem) , Bertha McE. Knipe 39 

Inferential Promise, An (story), Kate Craven Turner 371 

Kid, The (story), J. Albert Mallory 208 

Little House of Mary, The (poem), Sharlot M. Hall ' 274 

Logan Berries and Their Originator, illustrated, Virginia Garland 270 

Lotus (poem) , Martha H. Boles 2-jz 

Miss Drury — Irish Agent (story), Raymond A. McConnell 301 

Mountain Atmosphere and Scenery, illustrated, Joseph N. Patterson .... 325 
Mystery of Miranda, The (story), Gertrude Dix 228 



^^\ ^^ 



Page 

Nakimu Caves, Exploring the, illustrated, James Cooke Mills 349 

New Portal to Paradise, A, illustrated, Willoughby Rodman 41 

Oatman, Olive A.— Her Captivity with the Apache Indians, and Her 

Later Life, Sharlot M. Hall 216 

Pablo's Deer Hunt, a Pueblo Fairy Tale, Chas. F. Lummis 379 

Pacific Coast, Crab Catchers of the, illustrated, Bonnycastle Dale 344 

Paradise, A New Portal to, illustrated, Willoughby Rodman 41 

Paradise, The Artists', illustrated, Chas. F. Lummis I73. 241 

Petra del Campo (story), Wallace Gillpatrick 142 

Plant Life in the Desert, illustrated, Sharlot M. Hall 3 

Red Parasol in Mexico, A, illustrated, serial, J. Torrey Connor 

28, III, 198, 259, 337 

Redondo Beach, California, illustrated, specially contributed I59 

Sanger, California, illustrated, W. M. Barr 81 

School Days and Other Days on the Hassayampa, serial, Laura Tilden 

Kent 438 

Sequoya League, The 393 

Sidewinder, The (poem), Chas. F. Lummis 127 

Small Things in the Yosemite, Joseph Anthony 53 

Some Early California Songs, illustrated, W. J. Handy 430 

Songs, Some Early California, illustrated, W. J. Handy 430 

Southern California Garden, A, Hannah Burton I49 

Southwest An Artist's Paradise, The, illustrated, Chas. F. Lummis. .. 173, 241 

Southwest Society, The — Archaeological Institute of America 318 

Sphinx of the Hills, The (story), R. C. Pitzer 294 

Spring in the Desert (poem), Sharlot M. Hall 52 

Tisare (story) , Natalie Manson Dew IS3 

"Too Much Muchachos !" (story), Ernestine Winchell 362 

Torch, The (story), Eugene Manlove Rhodes 128 

Touch of Nature, A (story), Eugene Manlove Rhodes 70 

Trump, The (story), Melcena Burns Denny 449 

Under the Medusa Cactus (story), Mary H. Coates 235 

U. S. Forest Service, The, illustrated, Will C. Barnes 89 

White Soul, A (story), Nettie Mason 459 

Yosemite, a Journey Through the, illustrated, Willoughby Rodman 41 

Yosemite, Small Things in the, Joseph Anthony 53 



176957 



Copyright 1908 



Out West Magazine Company 



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quality. In dealing with me, you will get the very finest blankets at wholesale 
prices. I also handle the products of the Hopi (Moqui) Indians, buying them un- 
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modern Moqui pottery, and a rare collection of prehistoric pottery. - 

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ROAST MEATS 

Hot or cold, Soups, Steaks, Chops, Gravies, Cheese and all 
kinds of Salads are given a rare relish by the judicious use of 

LEA & PERRINS SAUCE 

THE ORIGINAL. WO R C E STJE R S H I R E 

Leading Chefs say it is the Secret of their Success 

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OUT ^A^EST 

A Magazine of thie Old Pacific and ttie Ne^^v 

CIIAS. F. LUMMIS' \ ^..^ 

CHARLES AMADON MOODY \ ^^^^^rs 
SHARLOT M. HALL, Associate Editor 



AMONG THE STOCKHOLDERS AND CONTRIBUTORS ARE: 



DAVID STARR JORDAN 

President of Stanford University 
FREDERICK STARR 

Chicago University 
THEODORE M. HITTELL 

The Historian of California 
MARY HALLOCK FOOTE 

Author of "The Led-Horse Claim," etc. 
MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM 

Author of "Stories of the Foothills" 
GRACE ELLERY CHANNING 

Author of "The Sister of a Saint," etc. 
ELLA HIGGINSON 

Author of "A Forest Orchid," etc. 
CHARLES WARREN STODDARD 

The Poet of the South Seas 
INA COOLBRITH 

Author of "Song from the Golden Gate," etc. 
EDWIN MARKHAM 

Author of "The Man with the Hoe" 
JOAQUIN MILLER 

The Poet of the Sierras 
BATTERMAN LINDSAY 
CHARLES FREDERICK HOLDER 

Author of "The Life of Agassiz," etc. 
CHAS. DWIGHT WILLARD 
CONSTANCE GODDARD DU BOIS 

Author of "The Shield of the Fleur de Lis" 



WILLIAM E. SMYTHE 

Author of "The Conquest of Arid America." 

etc 
DR. WASHINGTON MATTHEWS 

Ex-Pres. American Folk-Lore Society 
WILLIAM KEITH 

The Greatest Western Painter 
CHARLES A. KEELER 
LOUISE M. KEELER 
GEO. PARKER WINSHIP 

The Historian of Coronado's Marches 
FREDERICK WEBB HODGE 

of the Smithsonian Institution, Washington 
GEO. HAMLIN FITCH 

Literary Editor S. F, Chronicle 
ALEX. F. HARMER 

CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON OILMAN 
Author of "In This Our World" 
CHAS. HOWARD SHINN 

Author of "The Story of the Mine," etc. 
T. S. VAK DYKE 

Author of "Rod and Gun in California," etc. 
MARY AUSTIN 

Author of "The Land of Little Rain" 
L MAYNARD DIXON 
ELIZABETH AND JOSEPH GRINNELL 

Authors of "Our Feathered Friend"'' 



Contents— Jxily. 1908 

God's Country — The Desert, illustrated, by Sharlot M. Hall 3 

A Red Parasol in Mexico, illustrated serial, by J. Torrey Connor 28 

In Tune, poem, by Bertha McE. Knipe .....' , 39 

A New Portal to Paradise, illustrated, by Willoughby Rodman 41 

The Call of the Desert, poem, by Mabel Ann Smith "51 

Spring in the Desert, poem, by Sharlot M. Hall 52 

Small Things in the Yosemite, by Joseph Anthony 53 

An Arizona Ctipid, story, by Edmund Vance Cooke 61 

A Touch of Nature, story, by Eugene Manlove Rhodes 71 

Sanger, California, illustrated, by W. M. Barr 81 



Copyright 1908. Entered at the Los Angeles PostoflBce as second-class matter. (See Publishers' Page< 



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Emil Rohte, Second Vice-President 
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Wm. Herrmann, Asst. Cashier 
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Photo by Brennan 

"Coxcomb Cactus" 

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v/ 



'MB NATION BACK Of US TMC WORLD IN FRONT 



mm-M iT^? » 



OufWcST 




T 



Vol. XXIX, No. 1 JULY. I908 

* GODS COUNTRY— the: DESERT 

Hy SHARLOT M. HALL. 

HE big dull-copper disk of the 
full moon swung up over the 
dark-lined mountains — true des- 
ert ranges, sharp peaks clean cut as 
horns, knife-like hog-backs, wave- 
edged ridges blue-black against a 
fathomless purple sky beset with 
stars. In front, lesser peaks and 
ridges swam up out of the wide up- 
lifted plain like strong islands out of 
a sea of sand. Islands they were — 
the scarred and time-worn summits 
of great ranges lost deep under the 
wash of centuries. Down the wide, 
low caiions the idling night-wind 
drifted the perfume of blossoming 
mesquite and cat-claw and strange, 
wild shrubs and unnamed herb and 
flower in engulfing waves of fra- 
grance. 

Two riders stopped on a hill-top, and looked up at the moon and 
the sharp-jawed peaks and out across the dusky open where the 
sand-washes gleamed like rivers of silver in the moonlight, thread- 
ing in and out among the dark shadow-patches of mesquite and 
cactus. 

One was an old man, with forty years of the desert mapped in 
his face ; it was as seamed and lined and brown as the hills would be 
under tomorrow's sun. "God's Country !" he said — to himself rather 
than to the silent rider by his side. "God's Country! We used to 
call the States that. We weighed every ounce of gold dust in our 
buckskin bags on Sunday morning — because when it weighed so 

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GOD'S COUNTRY— THE DESERT. 5 

much we were going back to God's Country ; going where the 
ground grew things to eat and nobody knew how to drink out of a 
canteen. 

"Why, this is God's Country — the cleanest, freest, bravest land 
under the stars — if you know how to take it. I can find food and 
shelter in any corner of it; yes, and physic too, if it comes to that. 
They say Nature has put everything a man needs, sick or well, on 
any square mile of earth — if he has sense enough to find it." 

The old man was a type — "desert mad," held fast in the spell of 
wide, clean, sun-filled skies unblurred by any smoke but the bitter- 
sweet trail of a camp-fire of dry yucca leaves heaped over an armful 
of pungent grease-wood; a wide, clean, sun-white land where the 




Palo Verdr and Creosote at Home 

only boundary marks were the monuments some prospector had set 
across a ledge — or the lesser heap of stones against the cross of 
rough mesquite where some desert wanderer had staked his last 
claim. 

The desert is like a Sargasso sea, as full of strange human drift as 
that part of the ocean is said to be of derelict ships. Happy derelicts, 
many a one of these the desert has claimed ; drifting through a 
golden haze which clothes every barren ledge and siin-burned hill- 
side with the glamour of hope. Beyond, beyond, just beyond, the 
sand glistens yellow in the sun and every broken boulder is flecked 
with "values." 

Some of them have not been outside the desert in half a lifetime; 
a few times a year they straggle in to the little stores that mark the 



6 OUT WEST 

last in-reach of civilization, exchange a meagre hoard of gold-dust 
or blackened, pocket-worn silver coins for beans, flour, coffee, a bit 
of bacon, whiskey always ; boast guardedly over chunks of gold- 
specked ore, and fade back into the mirage behind tne lean burros. 

They bring strange scraps of desert myth and lore, gleaned per- 
haps from wandering Mexicans, or from the Indians that drift in 
and out as the cactus-fruit and mesquite-beans ripen, or the liner 
basket materials grow scarce elsewhere — wisdom of herb and plant, 
odd "cures" as good probably as anything in the regular pharma- 
copoeia, and grim superstitions of haunted water-holes, outfits of 
packed burros that vanish into clean air as the traveller comes near, 
and the red camel with pouches of gold and a skeleton rider still 




A TvpicAL Desert of the Foothills 

Tree "opuntias," grape cactus, giant cactus and creosote bush 

lashed to his back, whom many a man has sighted and no man could 
capture. 

Ching Lee, the old Chinaman who gardens patiently in a tiny 
oasis and hauls his vegetables away to market at the mining-camps 
across the desert, had rheumatism. He crawled painfully along his 
neat rows of beans and sweet potatoes, and burned many prayer- 
sticks before his worn and faded rice-paper Joss without relief. 
Some passing prospector stopped to fill his canteens, and told the 
old man to boil a rattlesnake and bathe his limbs in the broth. The 
prescription was followed — and Ching is as well as any man. 

The rattlesnake has a part all his own in the desert practice of 
healing. Rattlesnake oil cures rheumatism and the stiffened joints 



GOD'S COUNTRY— THE DESERT. 



a man gets working down in a wet mine ; the oil rubbed in the ears 
cures deafness ; and a rattlesnake skin, tanned soft and supple as 
chamois and worn around the waist, will keep a man well on the 
hardest trip — but the dust from the rattles will cause blindness which 
nothing will cure. 

There is a plant which the rattlesnake fears — he will not crawl 
across it, and, if it is dropped on him, he uncoils and crawls away. 
Perhaps this is only a bit of myth, but every desert man knows the 




A Giant Echinocactus 

This specimen is nearly six feet tall. Smaller sizes are used for 
making a very good candy and preserve 

golondrina — the creeping plant with tiny, round, gray-green leaves 
and minute, white blossoms with a brown centre. 

"Rattlesnake-weed" grows in the little open spaces from the pines 
to the white sand-hills that shift back and forth in each year's wind. 
The leaves pounded into a wet mass are bound on a snake-bite, and 
the victim, man or animal, is given huge draughts of the bitter, dark 
tea into which the whole plant is steeped. The golondrina tea is 
used as a liniment for rheumatism, too, and the Mexican women 
know that it dyes cotton cloth an enduring purplish black. 



8 OUT WEST 

If the golondrina is too far to find, there is another desert cure 
for any snake-bite — a cure well enough attested and one with which 
many an Indian has fought bullet-wound and sabre-cut, and mas- 
tered incipient blood-poisoning. The leaves of any flat-leaved 
opuntia, but especially the common prickly pear, are thrown on a 
camp-fire till the thorns are singed ofif and the skin puffs up in 
watery blisters, then split open and bound hot on the wound. So 
many a pack-mule has been restored to place in the train, and many a 
limb that a physician would have amputated has been saved to do its 
owner good service on desert trails. 

Under the sunrise the desert lay revealed — brown mountain- 




Bear Grass of the Desert Foothills 

This burns like oil when greenest, and is used by freighters for start- 
ing their camp-fires. The fiber of the long leaves are a favorite basket 
material with the Indians. "Sotol" is its Indian name. 

ranges buttressed with foot-hills that lap and interlap against each 
other, set with spur-like peaks and jutting horns of dark rock, with 
deep passes between. Here and there along the sun-burned ranges, 
strange cliflfs and ledges intermingled at angles — as if the very flesh 
of the earth had slipped away and left the naked skeleton exposed 
to any curious gaze. There were long trails of rough, rounded 
boulders far down the barren slope of many a peak, as if the remnant 
of some giant cannonading lay scattered as it fell. Down these 
boulder-sweeps the prickly pear spread a gray-green trail, and the 
cholla balls rolled in prickly, pale-yellow waves. 

Out from the hills the wide plain swung away against the horizon. 



GOD'S COUNTRY— THE DBSBRT. 9 

cut with yellow-brown sand-washes edged with pale-green mesquite 
and palo verde, and broken with the rugged, cliff-ribbed buttes 
where some lost mountain still thrust up above the sand. 

All along the foothills tall clusters of whip-like ocatillo flamed 
with crimson blossoms ; the giant cactus wore crowns of waxen 
white, the cat-claw bushes were white with honey-sweet bloom, and. 
the tiny golden balls of the acacia distilled pure fragrance. 

Elsewhere, in the higher mountains that were still desert, the 
older mescal plants showed thick buds like a giant asparagus-tip 
pushing apart the thorn-edged leaves of the heart; the flat-leaved 
opuntias were covered with blossoms of carven amber, and the rose- 
and-scarlet echinocereus flowers glowed against the gray rocks. 




"Prickly Pear" in Fruit 

The deep red fruit of the flat-leaved opuntias is a food-fruit of the 
Indians. It is used fresh, dried and made into a syrup or jelly. 

Still elsewhere on the desert plains and sandy ridges, the great 
tree-yucca lifted its royal crown, of ten, twenty, fifty blossom-spikes 
— a yard, all set with hundreds of white waxen bells. And far away 
in the still truer desert, the dry, semi-level uplands crossed and 
rimmed with barren ranges, the lesser yuccas were content with a 
single white, flag-like spike, or two or three ; and the creeping opun- 
tias still spread a cloth-of-gold table for the bees, and the creosote 
bushes swayed their frail yellow blossoms against the green-white 
fragrant flowers of the dwarf mesquite. 

Perhaps, in truth, "every league of land holds the need of a man," 
and perhaps every weed is indeed only an undiscovered flower. Not 
many things grow in the desert that the desert people have not 
some way used. It was as hard to starve an Apache to death in the 



lo our WEST 

lean, dry foothills as it would have been to starve a coyote ; he knew 
every moisture-hoarding root, every foot-seed and leaf and twig. 

The Indian women of the desert tribes knew roots and barks that 
yielded dyes, and gums with which the basket water-bottles were 
pitched to make them tight, and others that were the secret of the 
glaze which certain pottery-makers could secure. They knew plants 
which supplemented the skill of the Medicine Men, and an expert 
basket-maker would adapt the material at hand, from mesquite and 
Cottonwood twigs to the supple arrow-weed and thread-like filaments 
of the bear-grass. 

The mesquite was the mother-tree of the desert. If there was a 
seeping underflow of water, it grew twenty or thirty feet tall, with 




Whipple's Opuntia — Hickhorn Cactus" 

This ha-s greenish yellow blossoms; the ripe fruit is pale yellow. The 
nest of a cactus wren may be seen on one of the branches. 

horizontal branches nearly as long — and by common tradition as 
much wood under ground as on top. If the earth was parched and 
poor, there was more wood underground; the dark, iron-hard roots 
forced their way down and around in a circle perhaps twice the 
spread of the dwarfed top which the wise tree dared to expose to 
the sun. 

Here was firewood ; here was material for an enduring skeleton 
for the "stick-and-mud" huts ; here were dye-bark, and pitching- 
gum, and basket-twigs ; and, above all, here was a food-supply 
as dependable as any in the desert. 

The mesquite was the bread-tree. In spring, while the delicate 



GOD'S COUNTRY— THE DESERT. n 

mimosa-like leaves are still a tender green, every twig and branch is 
wreathed as in a bridal garment of richly fragrant greenish-white 
blossoms like silky fringe — or fluffy white caterpillars. Following 
the blossoms, the slender beans grow long and thicken to yellow 
ripeness; but if there chanced a winter of drouth the blossoms 
withered and fell, or did not appear at all, and Indian and wild deer 
and little sand-burrowing squirrels alike took a reef in their belts 
and waited for some lucky summer-rain or river-overflow to bring 
a second blossoming and a winter harvest. 

The Indians ate the beans before they were half grown, raw or 
cooked ; and when they ripened, whole tribes turned out to the 
harvest and stored great piles in basket-like granaries of twisted 
arrow-weed. The long pods enclose a seed rich in oil, and the pod 




&L^_. 




' 


L ' 







Typicat. Upright Opuntia of thb Higher Desert Foothills 

is itself sweet and of much food value. All day long, when the 
harvest is in, the old women sit and grind the beans between two 
flat stones into a meal that is baked into a hard bread, or used in 
mush, or stirred into the favorite rabbit-stew or into water and fer- 
mented in the sun to a sort of beer. 

. In the summer the thick gum which exudes from the tree in drops 
is gathered, and the children eat it and grow fat, as the gum-arabic 
pickers are said to do. The Apaches pitch their woven water-bottles 
with it, and the Mexicans use it, dissolved in water, as a cure for 
sore-throat. 

If the mesquite-bean was the desert bread, the mescal-heart was 
its cake and wine — served over a longer period perhaps, but at its 
best in spring and early summer. The mescal, the Indian Maguey, 



«2 OUT WEST 

is an agave, akin to the century-plant, with smaller, shorter leaves, 
tough and strong and armed with brown, hooked thorns all along 
their dull-green edges. It ranges over the desert from the high 
pine-forests to the rocky ridges and foot-hills where snow never 
falls. 

When the thick cordage-like root strikes fast, it spreads out under- 
ground in all directions like the mesquite, and sends up new plants 
from the root-joints, till, when the old plant dies after blossoming, 
there is a colony of young plans of all sizes to take its place. 

Year after year the pointed head of leaves in the center of the 
thorn-armed rosette thickens at the base, till some spring a big bud 




The Home of the Greasewood, or Creosote 
The bitter smoke given off by its burning wood and leaves was some- 
times used by the Indians in torturing their captives. 

like a clenched fist is thrust out; a giant asparagus-tip it might be, 
touched and tinted with rose and pink and bronze-wine over the 
pale, fresh green ; as thick as a man's arm, and growing taller at 
the rate of six inches or more a day, till at last it stands ten, fifteen 
feet in the air, bearing a many-branched spike of rich yellow blos- 
soms. 

While it is still short, the strange, bright bud is sweet as sugar- 
cane and almost as tender as asparagus, and is eaten raw, or baked, 
or boiled. But this is only a summer luxury ; before the bud-tip 
emerges from the head of the plant, the Indian women and children 
leave the villages and go into the hills and cafions where the mescal- 
fields have been known for generations, and the baking-pits of long- 



GOD'S COUNTRY— THE DESERT. 



•3 



past seasons may be found overgrown with bear-grass and prickly 
pear. 

Sometimes the old pits are cleaned out ; more often, new ones are 
made in some spot not far from brushwood that will feed the fires. 
The mescal-heads are cut and heaped in piles — many heads, several 
days' cutting for all the party. Then the wood is dragged in, the pits 
lined with stones, and fires blaze on top till the earth and rocks are 
baking hot. The ashes are cleaned out of the hot pits as out of the 




Creosote in Blossom 

old-time clay ovens in which our grandmothers baked brown-bread 
and pies, and the clean mescal-heads are piled in and covered over 
with leaves, hot stones, andt a layer of earth. 

Three days are allowed for a big baking, and the crisp heads come 
out soft and sweet and flavored, to the white man's taste, like 
molasses gingerbread. This baked mescal is eaten fresh, or pressed 
into tight rolls and dried in the sun, to be eaten like hard bread. 
Rolls of the baked mescal have been found in the cliff-dwellings 



»4 



OUT WEST 



along with the corn-cobs and squash-shells and cotton-bolls of a 
forgotten people. 

Not every mescal-head that was harvested on the rugged hillsides 
and along the deep caiion walls went into bread. The Mexicans have 
long distilled, in rude fashion, a fiery liquor from it, and the Apache 
had his own method of producing an "Apache cocktail," which has 
been described as "a cup of red-hot sulphuric acid, stirred with a 
Gila-monster's tail, and with a cholla-ball on top instead of a cherry." 

One of the early desert poets, who was probably familiar with the 
drink, as he was with the customs of the Apaches, has described the 
method of making it. 




Mescal in Blossom 

"The leaves of Maguey head they shave, 
Then mash the substance to a pulp, 
Compressing all the juice of bulb 
Into a vat of stout rawhides. 
From which the sun the juice oxides, 
Forming a simple fermentation, 
Producing Apache intoxication. 
This liquor, distilled in horns alembous, 
Causes a 'delirium tremendous.' " 

The desert people have never lacked the means of producing a 
"delirium tremendous" when so inclined, and the same poet has re- 
corded another method which is still in use and has lost none of its 



GOD'S COUNTRY— THE DESERT. 



•5 



potency. Every few months there is an outbreak of tizwin moon- 
shining on the Apache reservations, and wicker jars of the sprouting 
corn are found buried in secluded spots. The poetic formula for 
tizwin runs thus : 

"The Tizween drink is much enjoyed; 
To make it, Indian corn's employed ; 
They bury the corn until it sprouts — 
Destroying food for drinking bouts ; 
Then grind it in a kind of tray, 
Then boil it strong about a day; 







?^i-': '.r. 






Ready for Cattle Food 

Most of the thorns have been burned from this opuntia. In this condi- 
tion cattle €at this cactus greedily. 

Strain off the juice in willow sieve, 
And in the sun to ferment leave. 
The fermented juice is called tulpai, 
On which Apache chief gets high." 

There was a lesser desert-bread harvest, in which the little brown 
acorns of the bushy scrub-oak, and the delicate nuts of the pifion- 
pine, and many grass-seeds had part. The corns were roasted 
around the camp-fires, and sometimes ground into meal for mush 
or hard, round cakes of bread. The nomad tribes followed the ripen- 
ing of the food-seeds, and on the upland mesas where the grasses 



• 6 OUT WBST 

grew tall the women wandered up and down brushing the ripe seeds 
with a little brush of bear-grass into the conical burden-baskets. 

So the winter stores were gathered, but in late June and July and 
early August was the season of feasting, the harvest of the finest 
desert, fruit — the bright red fig-like fruit of the giant cactus, with a 
ruby syrup oozing out of every break in the glossy skin. 

Stately and tall among its lesser brethren the Giant Cactus seems 
the embodied spirit of the desert ; its fluted trunk, as thick as a 
man's body, rising straight, or many-branched with strange, half- 
human arms, is the most striking thing in the desert landscape. 




OCATiLivO IN Leaf and Bi^ossom 

This plant drops its leaves at the first approach of the dry season. 

The small red fruits are borne in a row at the end of the 

long, slender stalks. 

In scattering groves and singly it covers the low foot-hills and 
wide, sun-baked plains, and hangs like a daring climber on the deep 
cafion walls and rocky clififs. Gray-green, its even rows of whitish, 
brown-tipped thorns set outward, it stands unchanged by the chang- 
ing seasons till in May and early June the thick top and blunt arm- 
ends bear a circle of waxen-white flowers, in form like giant prickly- 
pear blossoms. 

Then the wild bees, hived perhaps where some cactus-woodpecker 
has picked a nest-hole deep in the thorn-set trunk, and the green- 
winged humming-birds, whose nests cling unseen against the pale 
bark of the palo verde trees, have their fea.st-time while the silken 




Giant Cactus in Bloom 



l8 



our WEST 



flowers are open ; but the birds and the Indian children know that 
their turn is coming. 

The green figs grow large as an e^gg, and flush with pink, and 
redden, and drip lines of syrupy sweetness down the trunk to the 
ants and bees and feathery-winged honey-moths. Then the Indians 
leave the mountain-camps and the stick-and-mud huts along the 
rivers and the round "kees" of woven arrow-weed in the villages 
beside the irrigated fields in the valleys, and go out to the feast, 
armed with long, slender poles and every basket and bucket and bag. 

With the poles the fruit is detached and lifted down carefully, for 




Arrow-werd Along a Sand-wash 

This plant — "the desert water-sign" — nearly always marks an under- 
flow of water at some season of the year. The slender tough stems 
are used for roofing the "stick-and-mud" houses, and by the Indians 
for the entire house, inwoven and plastered with mud. 

the broken fruits ferment quickly. The few minute prickles are 
brushed off with a brush of grass and the ripe figs packed away for 
the journey home. Many are eaten fresh, some are dried and pressed 
into cakps like figs, or rolled in corn husks. The broken fruits are 
boiled into a rich syrup and stored in earthen jars, or mashed and 
stirred into water and fermented in the sun to a drink which is mild 
at first but grows more intoxicating till the cactus-fruit feasts end 
in a tribal "drunk" of peculiar thoroughness. 

The Giant Cactus fruit is sweetest and best, but the fruit of nearly 



GOD'S COUNTRY— THE DESERT. 



»9 



all the opuntias has some use, especially the prickly pear and the 
tuna, which are eaten fresh or made into a preserve — though old-time 
scouts believed that tuna-fruit would cause ague, and on a march 
the troops were forbidden to eat it. 

The prickly-pear leaves are gathered when small and tender, and 
cooked as a vegetable ; and the smooth, hard, earthen floors of old- 
time adobe houses were made by mixing the clay with the gluey 
juice of prickly-pear leaves pounded and soaked in water. 

One of the arborescent opuntias, the "grape-cactus," bears grape- 
like clusters of yellowish, acid fruit, which the Indians use in fevers 
and as a blood medicine; and the bisnaga, the big, heavy-thorned 




"Squawbkrrv" in Fruit 

This desert plant bears great quantities of orange-red berries some- 
what like a currant, which are much used by the Pima and Maricopa 
Indians for food, both fresh and made into a jam. 

echinocactus which is called "the desert water-barrel," has yielded 
many a cup of fairly palatable water to thirsty travelers. 

To get at the water, the top of the cactus is cut off or pounded off 
with a stick, and the white-green pulp pounded till the water can be 
squeezed out. The Papago Indians sometimes mix their bread with 
this juice, and Dr. Bigelow, of the Whipple survey in 1853, tells of 
finding fire-blackened specimens of the bisnaga with deep holes in 
the top along the Bill Williams Fork of the Colorado river. The 
Indian guide told him that the Indians of the region cooked the pulp 
by burying hot stones in the cavity, and used it as a food. 

In the little adobe towns of the old Southwest, the most pic- 
turesque figure was the dulce-vender, with his slabs of bisnaga-heart 



20 OUT WEST 

crystallized in brown sugar spread out on a bit of dirty cloth or the 
top of a box. The flies were his best customers, but if sales were 
slow, the stock was not expensive ; for he had only to go into the 
desert and load a burro with young plants, and at his leisure strip 
off the thorns and boil down the sliced-up heart in his own scrap of 
back yard. And if to the semi-translucent, brownish-green chunks 
on the box-top he could add rolls of corn-husks showing infolded 
the deep, blood-red of dried cactus-figs, the stock was indeed com- 
plete. 

A preserve, too, was made of the bisnaga-heart, and recently an 
enterprising candy-maker in a desert town has copied and improved 
upon the extinct dulce-man's chief ware, and tons of echinocactus 




A Young Cholla, Showing Fallen Balls of Thorns 
This opuntia is dreaded by all animals, because of its thorn-armor. 

go yearly into candies and sweetmeats. Three or four varieties are 
used in the sweetmeats and bear alike the names of "fish-hook cac- 
tus," "nigger-head," "desert water-barrel," and "bisnaga," but the 
true bisnaga has a rose-crimson blossom and thorns less curved than 
the "fish-hook," which is topped in June and July with a broad crown 
of rich yellow flowers, followed by many yellow fruits. 

There is always a clean, subtle sweetness in the desert air, but 
when Spring touches the sun-filled spaces and calls every waiting 
bulb and herb and shrub into blossom there is pure fragrance in 
every wind that passes. The "cat-claw," a bushy acacia with tough, 




SoMB Desert Dwei.lers 

In this group are the giant cactus, opuntias, mamillaria, echinocactus, 
echinocereus, crucifix thorn, greas€-wood, catclaw, and other desert shrubs 



22 OUT WEST 

pliant, brown branches armed with short, stout "claws," forgets to 
stand defiant on every rocky slope, and veils itself in soft, creamy- 
white blossoms like downy baby caterpillars intent on becoming but- 
terflies. Wonderfully delicate and graceful, it sways above the 
brown rocks and fills the air with the odor of ripe melons or peaches. 
Like the mesquite, the cat-claw bears a bean beloved of the desert 
animals. 

The pungent creosote, the "grease wood,'' whose resin-coated 




Opuntia Arborescens — "Grape Cactus" 

The pale yellow-green fruit of this cactus is borne in clusters like 

grapes. It has a pleasant acid flavor, and is used by the Indians as 

a tonic and cure for fevers. 

glossy green leaves and supple brown twigs never lose the odor of 
some incense gum, infolds a succession of frail-petalled yellow flow- 
ers, faintly sweet and passing quickly to silver-winged seeds. The 
creosote has no thorny armor, but there is no plant of all the desert 
tribes more secure. The glossy resin-coat is its defence — bitter and 
nauseous to the mouth of the hungriest jack-rabbit or wandering 
burro. 

Probably this very quality has given it a fictitious, healing vir- 
tue, for the leaves, twigs, and bark are all used ; boiled into a fomen- 



GOD"S COUNTRY— THE DESERT. 



«3 



tation and a poultice for swellings and snake bites ; the tea used as 
a wash for wounds that refuse to heal, and the leaves dried and 
powdered on cuts and sores. A lighter brew of the tea is used as 
a tonic, and if bitterness is evidence it should possess all the curative 
powers. 

There was once a man who in his haste described the Southwest 
as "a place where they cut hay with a hoe and fire-wood with a 
sledge-hammer." He was remembering some experience with the 
desert ironwood — the palo fierro with which many mines and some 
of the "burro-line" railroads still fire their engines. When the 
creosote is covered with a silver mist of ripening seeds, the low foot- 
hills and wide sand-washes are a glory of pink and white, as of end- 
less orchards of almond trees in full blossom. 




Palo Verde Tree in Vvtx. Bloom 

The droning music of many wings fills the air, bees and hum- 
ming birds and honey-moths and hordes of bright, strange insects, 
all drawn by the clusters of locust-like blossoms that clothe the 
stern, thorn-armored tree with such gracious beauty. The honey- 
filled flowers are followed by a bean, sweeter and more prized than 
even the mesquite-bean ; and the wood, dark and heavy enough to 
merit the name it bears, is as beautiful as some tawny tiger-skin 
under the jewel-like polish which it takes with proper handling. 

As often as not the tall column of the Giant Cactus rises out of 
a veil of delicate green — the smooth green, graceful branches and 
lace-like leaves of the Palo Verde, which seems to have taken upon 
itself the duty of sheltering the baby "giants" till they are safe from 



24 OUT WEST 

deer and cattle and jack-rabbits. In the remotest canons these beau- 
tiful trees swing like green mist of falling water against the rugged 
rocks, and in the lower deserts they stand in spring, the very spirit 
of other-worldly grace and mystery, the green branches hidden in 
films of pale gold. "The shower of gold" it has been called, and 
the blossoms, silken and delicate as the crape-myrtle, seem to glisten 
softly in the sun as if powdered with golden dust. After the flowers 
come smooth green pods, ripening to yellow and bearing sweet beans. 
When the little "stick-and-mud" desert home is built, with roof 
poles of palo verde or mesquite and sides of the white ribs of a dead 
giant cactus plastered over with clay, there will be a fence set around 
it of ocatillo poles, cut up on the hills where the tall clumps of this 
"fish-pole" cactus (which is not a cactus at all) chooses to grow. 




Where the Bean Harvest is Stored 

Every inch of the slim, straight length is set with inch-long spines, 
and the woody heart is tough and pliant as a whip. Set close in a 
trench, this is a fence no prowler, four-footed or two-footed, cares 
to pass, and if the poles are cut in proper season they strike root and 
grow and bear their crimson blossom-flags and row of round red 
fruits as cheerfully as out on the rocky hill-slopes. 

Such a fence guards the little "burro-power" oasis where Ching 
Lee sorts his vegetables under the shade of the big grape-vine that, 
having outgrown its trellis of rough poles, has flung out its entwin- 
ing arms across the apricot tree to the mesquite beyond, and mingles 
its purple clusters of fruit with the yellow beans. 

Here, while the chug, chug of the pump ends in the splash of 
water into the earth-scooped tank as the burros plod round and 
round, and Ching ties green onions into bunches and packs string- 



GOD'S COUNTRY— THE DESERT. 



»5 



beans into wet gunny-sacks, the desert men, who have stopped to 
fill their canteens and water-kegs, hold an herb-market, and hoarded 
"cures" are traded back and forth. 

This man down from the mountains opens his pack and divides 
a thick bundle of stringy, pale-brown bark thin as paper — the treas- 
ured alouseme of the Mexicans, the "quinine-bush" of the mountain 
prospector, the mountain-fever cure of scout and pioneer, Coivania 
stansburiana. This beautiful evergreen shrub has a wide range, but 
comes to its best in the cooler mountains. It might be mistaken for 
a young cedar of short, finely-cut foliage and brighter green till in 
May it is covered with cream-white flowers in rich profusion and of 
strange and overpowering fragrance. They are not unlike a very 




An Oasis — Garden of the Pima Mission Church 

small wild-rose in form, and successive but lighter crops follow the 
first lavish flowering till snow-fall. 

Leaf, flower, twigs, bark are all bitter to the tongue as powdered 
quinine, and the bark steeps into a tea of the last degree of bitter- 
ness — said to break a fever quicker than quinine and to stop hemor- 
rhage when all else fails. In midsummer the bark of the larger 
shrubs peels off in ragged strips, and the new bark following this is 
most valued. 

With the bark the mountain man had a flour-sack half full of 
glossy leaves and brown twigs, now dry and brittle — the "yerba 
santa" of the adobe foot-hills, the sovereign remedy for coughs and 
colds. Steeped into tea and mixed with wild honey, the clear, strong 
tea used as a tonic drink, it is said to cure pneumonia and to hold 
consumption in check. 



?6 



OUT WEST. 



The yerba santa, a bushy shrub with deep green leaves, ranges 
from a foot to four feet tall and inhabits the sheltered slopes of cer- 
tain foot-hills. Narrow in its distribution, it is all the more sought 
and prized by the barterers under the big grape-vine. 

Down in Ching Lee's water-tank, another valued remedy for colds 
and lung troubles is growing — the "yerba mansa," a water plant like 
a slender leafed arum, with a thick root which is steeped into a 
cough-syrup and soothing drink! 

Ching had another herb-medicine, the root of the bottle-weed 
boiled into an amber tea of rather pleasant taste — a cure for rheu- 
matism and other ills. This plant, which is named from the curious 
thickening of the stem just below the flowering branches, grows 




A Burro-Power Oasis in the Desert 

sparingly in the hills of the lower desert — an inconspicuous plant, 
easily passed by, but sought for its curative qualities. 

Before the water kegs were filled, a Mexican came in with a roll 
of slender, green twigs like dwarf palo verde branches tied on top of 
his pack. It was "Brigham's tea," "Mormon tea" — the plant which 
furnished the Mormon pioneers a substitute for sassafras and for 
real tea as well. This leafless shrub Hke a dwarf palo verde ranges 
over the entire Southwest and is none so bad as a drink, whatever 
its medicinal value may be. 

So, as the desert has its own sources of food, it has its own agents 
of healing, meeting, no doubt, the need of its people as truly as the 
lavish resources of other lands meet the multiplied needs which they 
have fostered. 

Dewey, Arizona. 



A Cleft in the Desert Hills 



z8 




A RED PARASOL IN MUXICO 

By J. rORREY CONNOR 

VIII. 

IN PURSUIT OF THE PREHISTORIC. 

WISH you would shut the door, Niece Polly," said the 
professor crossly. "If there is a spot in this hotel where 
a draught isn't blowing three ways at once, I have 
failed to find it." 

"How is your poor head?" Aunt Zenia inquired, 
solicitously. "I don't like to leave you when you are feeling so indis- 
posed — " 

"There is nothing to hinder you from going — nothing at all," the 
professor interrupted. "We shall be here in Cuernavaca a week 
or ten days, and I can make the trip to Xochicalco at any time. The 
guide and horses have been engaged ; go along and don't argue. 
From women who argue, good Lord, deliver us !" 

When the professor spoke in that tone. Aunt Zenia meekly capitu- 
lated. 

"Very well," she said, skewering her hat in place by a well-directed 
jab of the hat-pin. "Hand me my camera, please, Polly. I wonder 
if five plate-holders will be enough." 

Polly ran to the veranda rail as the sound of horses' hoofs, rat- 
tling on the cobbles of the patio, was heard. 
"All aboard for Xochicalco!" she called. 
Seen in the dewy freshness of the morning, Cuernavaca, which, 




The Country Road 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO 



29 



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"THEY PASSED CLUMSY OX-TEAMS " 

on their arrival the night previous, had impressed them by its pic- 
turesqueness, took on new aspects of beauty. The low-eaved adobe 
houses, washed over by faint bkies or rose-pinks, were charming 
bits of color in their tropic setting. The Peru-tree of slender green 
leaf, jewelled with red berries, swept the tiled roofs with its lace- 
like foliage ; bougainvillea wreathed the casements, and roses nodded 
from balconies ; palms lifted their feathery fronds high in air, lending 
the finishing touch to the picture. 

The guide turned to the right, and took the road that led to San 
Anton, the home of the pottery maker^ where every hut boasts its 
kiln and every man is an artisan. 

They galloped through the one crooked street of the pueblo, with 
its cane shacks crowded together behind the low stone walls over 
which blossoming vines ran riot, and were out again upon the high- 
way, passing clumsy ox-teams and droves of burros, going to market. 



30 



OUT WEST 



"Are you aware," said Aunt Zenia, instructively, "that the road 
we are following is the old Acapulco trail leading from the seaport 
to the City of Mexico? Think what it must have been in the six- 
teenth century, when the yearly galleons from the Indies and Spain 
discharged their rich cargoes at Acapulco — a continuous procession 
of mules, freighted with Indian cotton, silks from far Cathay, spices 
and gums worth their weight in gold, passing along this highway, 
bells a-tinkling, drivers shouting — " 

A violent fit of coughing interrupted her ; Polly rounded the 
period neatly with : 




-AND DROVES OF BURROS- 



"And dust a-flying." 

"No doubt," Miss Snodgrass agreed. "But think of it. Niece 
Polly — a little matter of some centuries afterward the stately galleons 
are only a memory, the pack trains with their jangling bells are 
gone — and zve are here !" 

For an hour the guide, a Mexican, kept to the road ; then he struck 
off across the fields that skirted the hills, following a trail that zig- 
zagged about and picking a path among volcanic rock as the ascent 
became steeper. 

Aunt Zenia was wondering, for the twentieth time, if they would 
ever arrive at the ruins, and for the twentieth time Polly was reas- 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO 



3> 



suring her on that point, when the guide, swinging sidewise in his 
saddle, motioned toward a flat-topped hill ahead. 

"The Hill of the Flowers," he cried. 

A barranca opened before them — a gaping wound in the seamed, 
scarred face of the volcanic country. There was but one way of 
reaching the other side, and that was by crossing a primitive stone 
bridge, narrow, and lacking rails to g^ard against a possible plunge 
to the rocks and the rio below. 

The guide, still sitting sidewise in the saddle, nonchalantly rolled 
a cigarette as his horse stepped. out on the bridge. Aunt Zenia hesi- 
tated a moment, then, clutching her cherished camera more firmly, 




Going to Market 

loosed the rein. Polly shut her eyes and clung desperately to the 
pommel as her mount, nose to the ground, followed. 

"I should like to have an opportunity to inspect the bridge — it is 
surely prehistoric," said Aunt Zenia, "but we'll take the other, the 
longer, way to Cuemavaca. I'm not anxious to repeat this tight-rope 
performance." 

She dismounted and started up the hill. 

"Tell the guide to tie the horses where they can browse," she 
called back. 

The cerro, which was three hundred feet or more in height, was 
once surrounded by a ditch deep and wide; but the accumulated 
debris of years had filled it level full in places. A succession of 




D 

Pi 

« 
X 
H 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO 



33 



spiral terraces led to the summit, where, on a wide esplanade, were 
the remains of three truncated structures. When Polly and the 
guide arrived, they found her regarding doubtfully a brush -covered 
mound of earth and stones. 

"Well, are you going to the top and have a iook-see,' as Peter 
would say?'' Polly wanted to know. 

Aunt Zenia smiled. 

"There isn't much to see" — She stopped and clutched Polly's 
arm. "Mercy! A man! What do you suppose he is doing here?" 

"You might ask him," Polly suggested, mischievously. 

"Just what I intend to do," Aunt Zenia returned, with a militant 
air. 




Detail of Temple Carving 

The man vyas seated on a hummock with his back toward them.. 
It was a broad back, and the checkerboard pattern of the cloth which 
covered it had a tendency to emphasize the breadth. 

At the sound of voices, the man jumped up and faced about with 
an expectant look ; but at sight of the two ladies the look of expect- 
ancy changed to one of astonishment. \ 

"Bless my soul !'' he ejaculated, settling his spectacles more firmly 
upon his nose. "Bless my soul ! I thought it was my daughter 
Zitella and the guide." 

"Are you an archaeologist?" Aunt Zenia demanded. 

"No, Ma'am! I'm a self-made man. and I don't care who knows 



34 



OUT WEST 



it. My name's Cook." He searched for his card case, found it, and 
presented a card to Aunt Zenia with a flourish. "Hiram Cook," he 
pursued, as if to identify himself beyond question. 

Aunt Zenia's doubts were allayed, as Polly noted with amusement. 
Almost graciously she introduced herself and Polly to Mr. Hiram 
Cook, who was not an archaeologist. 

"Either of you ladies been to see the monnmcnt on the hill?" he 
asked. "No? Well, it's a sight. My daughter is up there, with our 
guide." 

"It would perhaps be as well to inspect the temple now," Aunt 




Miss Zitella and the Guide 

Zenia responded. "If you will kindly lead the way, Mr. Cook, we 
will follow. 

As they struggled through the tall grass they saw ahead of them 
an open space, clear of brush and trees, in the center of which were 
the ruins of the temple, covering an area of fifty feet square. The 
edifice was pyramidal in shape, each insloping terrace having pent 
eaves above it. But the temple received secondary consideration ; 
Miss Zitella came first. 

She was attired in knickerbockers and jaunty riding coat, and 
wore upon her head a straw sombrero. At first glance, Aunt Zenia 
mistook her for a good-looking boy. 

"You are from the States, aren't you?" bubbled Miss Zitella, 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO 



35 



leaning over the pommel of her saddle and grasping Aunt Zenia's 
reluctant hand. "It seems so good to meet someone from — " 

"Zitella," interrupted her father, "let's put the matter fair and 
square to the ladies, and get their opinion. It's my purpose, Ma'am," 
turning to Aunt Zenia, "to buy the castle, or monnmeiit, or what- 
ever you call it. What say? The government won't sell it? Don't 
tell me that there is anything in this doggoned country that they 
won't sell for good American dollars. Zitella isn't in favor of it. 
I've been trying to talk her over before making a business call on 
Diaz." 





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Prehistoric Bridge, Xochicalco 

"But why on earth do you wish to buy the temple?" queried Aunt 
Zenia, with unflattering emphasis on the "you." 

"Me? Oh, it's just a notion. Thought I'd have the stones carted 
over to Cuernavaca, and build me a summer house in the Borda 
garden. I tell you, Ma'am, the people of Chicago would sit up and 
take notice when they came to see old Hiram Cook. Xow, what do 
you think of it ?" 

"I think," said Aunt Zenia. with the courage of her convictions, 
"that you are a dreadful man to even dream of such a thing!" 

In a reckless moment Aunt Zenia had been known to drop into 
slang, but never before had she been guilty of a split infinitive. 

"My aunt doesn't mean — " began Polly, apologetically; but Miss 
Zitella forestalled her. 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO 



37 



•*Just what / told him," she cried, gleefully. 

"What's so very particular about this stone pile?" Mr. Cook stub- 
bornly pursued. 

Aunt Zenia gxirgled helplessly. 

"It's prehistoric," Polly volunteered. 

Mr. Cook pushed his glasses up on his forehead, the better to see. 

"These marks here — what might they mean ?" He leaned against 
the wall and traced the carvings with a stubby forefinger. 

"The pictographs? I would give a pretty penny to know. So 
would a number of people I might mention. Why, it would be 
name, fame and fortune for the person who solved the riddle ! The 




"of cane huts" 

people who built the temple could answer the question ; but no one 
of our day, I fear, may read the history writ in stone. Long, long 
ago. Abbe Brasseur de P>ourbourg, a priest of Guatemala, thought 
he had discovered the key to hieroglyphics found on monuments of 
the pre-Columbian era. He was the first to detect the similarity 
between the hieroglyphics in the Maya manuscript, in the library 
at Dresden, and those on the monuments in Yucatan, Guatemala, 
Honduras and Mexico. Nothing resulted from this discovery, how- 
ever.'' 

"Um !" commented Mr. Cook. 

"You will observe that the temple is constructed of granite blocks, 



'38 OUT WEST 

about seven feet long. These blocks must have been brought from 
a distance, as there is no trace of granite in the vicinity of Xochicalco. 
You will also observe that the carving on the last tier of stones is 
continuous, representing a reptile coiled about the base of the pile. 

"Regular old sea-serpent, ain't he?'' Mr. Cook chimed in, feeling 
called upon to sustain his part in the conversation. 

"The figures of men — notice the Egyptian cast of features and 
the Egyptian head-dress — are numerous," Aunt Zenia continued, 
recognizing that here was virgin ground for her seeds of wisdom. 
"The carving is fully two inches deep. I'm going to make thorough 
research into the matter of the Egyptian head-dress." 

"Can't say I like the cut of his whiskers." Mr. Cook was still 
tracing the carvings with his fingers. 

"Did you ladies come here on a picnic?" inquired Miss Zitella, 
wisely steering the conversation away from archaeology. 

"Er — something like it," Polly returned. "Will you share our 
lunch ?" 

Aunt Zenia's guide, who, with the help of the other guide, was 
emptying the saddle-bags, suddenly vittered an exclamation, holding 
up to view the neck of a beer bottle, and displaying in expressive 
pantomime the most poignant sorrow for his carelessness. 

"You can't eat the stuff," said Mr. Cook, when an examination 
of the lunch had revealed its fragmentary condition. "What are 
you going to do?'' 

"I'll send the guide to the Indian village. He shall engage quar- 
ters for the night, and bring us something — anything — to eat. I 
intend to stay right here and photograph these ruins as long as the 
light is good." 

"Better give it up and come with us to Cuernavaca," advised Mr. 
Cook. . 

But Aunt Zenia was not to be diverted from her purpose ; and 
the Cooks, with oft-repeated expressions of pleasure at having met 
people from "the States," and with promises to see their new-found 
friends in Cviernavaca, rode away. 

Aunt Zenia watched them out of sight with a smile which she 
vainly imagined to be tolerant. 

They are the kind of people who do an art gallery in thirty min- 
utes," she remarked, "but they know no better. Here! Give this 
to the guide. Now don't bother me ; I want to take a picture of the 
side of the temple before the light changes." 

The guide took the money, and strode off down the hill to the 
place where the horses were tethered. 

"He's hitting the high places," Polly observed. 

"I hope it will be frijolcs," returned Aunt Zenia, absently, her 
mind sub-consciously dwelling on hopes of dining. 



IN TUNE 39 

Polly sat down, with what patience she might, to await Aunt 
Zenia's pleasure. Unconscious of it though she was, the peace and 
quiet of the afternoon had stolen into her heart ; she dreamed awake, 
a smile on her lips. 

Aunt Zenia's brisk voice broke the spell, and brought back her 
wandering thoughts. 

"I haven't another plate left. Where do you suppose the guide 
is, all this time. I never was so hungry in my life." 

"Fve found a sardine can — empty, unfortunately," said Polly, 
unearthing the tin from a crevice with the toe of her boot. 

"A sardine can ! It sort of humanizes the immortal pile, doesn't 
it? By the way, Maximilian once entertained an idea similar to 
Mr. Cook's. He wanted to remove this structure, block by block, 
to Cuernavaca. The project was finally abandoned, but not before 
the temple had been partially demolished and the blocks of granite 
scattered on the ground. Is that the guide ? At last ! What does 
he say?" 

"He says," Polly repeated, after a short conference with the Mex- 
ican, "that there is a fiesta in the Indian village, with very much 
eating, very much drinking, and very much fighting. What shall 
we do?*' 

"Do? Go back to Cuernavaca, of course. We'll be in luck if we 
get out of this mountainous country before dark." 

"We are in luck as it is — we have survived the bridge," Polly 

made reply. 

[To be continued.] 



IN tune: 

By BERTHA McE. KNIPE. 
'F I must walk alone 
By woodland ways. 
Or in the open fields 

Through opal haze, 

Then tune my heart strings, Master! 

Let them thrill, I pray. 

To every subtle sound 

Along the way — 

To every fleeting cry of raptured pain, 

To every sighing note in love's refrain, 

Yea, tune my heart strings, Master! 

May they thrill anew 

To every voice of pleading 

'Neath God's arch of blue. 
Phoenix, Arizona. 




Merced River Below Moss Canon 




41 
*A NHW PORTAL TO PARADISE 

By WILI.OUGHBY RODMAN 
ESCRIPTIONS of Yosemite. are numerous, and all are 
inadequate. No human pen or tong^ue could truly set 
forth the matchless charms of this wonderful valley. 
Nothing could be added to the place itself. But a new 
approach has been found, which brings it nearer the 
every-day world. While the drives over the various stage-roads, 
which have heretofore been the only means of reaching the valley, 
were attractive, their first stages were so hot and dusty as to dis- 
courage the average tourist. Now a railroad to within fourteen 
miles of the valley eliminates what have been considered the only 
objectionable features of the trip. 

The Yosemite Valley Railroad takes the tourist from Merced to 
El Portal, a distance of about eighty miles. The road follows the 
valley of the Merced, making frequent crossings of the river. 

Although the mountain walls of its upper reaches are lacking, the 
scenery of the lower Merced is attractive. For a few miles, stretch- 
ing wheat-fields aflFord views of typical Central California land- 
scapes. Entering the foot-hills, the road closely follows the river, 
which at times is far below the track, again close to it. Flowing 
quietly in a narrow rocky channel, the lower river is in striking 
contrast with the dashing stream of the higher mountains. 

For miles the banks are cut and seamed with ditches and other 




The Portai, from a Distance 



lUustntions from photographs by Edgar A. Cohen 



42 OUT WEST 

works of placer mines, while heaps of debris and "slickens" are in 
evidence. Several long ditches cut out of the mountain side, at 
times carried over water-courses or around cliffs upon masonry, 
and evidently constructed at great expense of money and labor, bear 
witness to the extent of mining operations and the energy of the 
old miners. 

These, and gashes in the mountain sides, showing entrances to 
mines, and the cabin homes of the miners, confirm our belief that 
we have been transported to Bret Harte land, and before our 
mental eye come visions of rich bars, red shirts, six-shooters and 
big poker games. 

A few^ mines are in active operation, notably the Ragley, w^here 




In the Portal 

a large stamp mill has been installed, and extensive operations are 
in progress. 

As we ascend the river the scenery becomes more attractive, until 
at tne terminus we realize that we are in the mountains. 

The road ends where a broadening of the valley gives place for a 
little village of houses and tents. 

El Portal, the terminus, is most aptly named. "Entrance'' or 
"Gateway" seem commonplace, and would indicate the approach to 
an ordinary locality, but "El Portal" implies that beyond lies some- 
thing mystic, entrancing. And so it is, for this resting place in the 
valley is the portal to an enchanted region. 

Shaded by large live oaks, in sound of the river, cooled by moun- 
tain breezes. El Portal is a most attractive spot. 




*^iasip^ 




Falls op Cranb Crbek 



44 



OUT WEST 



After a night in beds which are the boast of the hotel and which 
compel repose, the tourist takes a stage-coach for the valley. As a 
mere drive, the journey from El Portal to Yosemite is tame when 
compared with old-time mountain staging. There are no steep 
climbs or break-neck descents, nothing to show forth the skill and 
nerve of the driver. A few old-timers work on the line, but their 
glory has departed. No longer the autocrat and aristocrat of the 
road, the defender of the weak, the driver is now only a driver. 
But one characteristic he does retain — he loves to "stuff the tender- 
foot," and does it. 

The shades of Hank Monk and his contemporaries hover not over 
the road. Even the pleasing dread of a hold-up is missing. But 




Looking Out of Portal 

the managers of the line are enterprising, and this feature may be 
added to the numerous attractions of the trip. 

The roadway, constructed by the Federal government, is broad 
and smooth. Passing is possible at any point, and a driver is de- 
prived of the pleasure of "cussing the other fellow" while waiting 
at a turn-out. 

As we proceed, the usual menagerie comes into view. Rocks and 
mountains become all sorts of animals. Old-men-of-the-mountain 
obtrude their rocky features. Camels, elephants and other creatures 
appear. A mountain will be "very like a whale" one minute, the 
next to become the exact counterpart of a sewing machine. Why 
is it people persist in seeing things in the mountains ? Surely moun- 
tains and cliffs are sufficiently attractive in themselves, without our 




Cataract at North Forks Bridge 



46 



OUT WEST 



seeking to see in them apes, camels, populists and other strange 
beasts. 

Should this article come to the notice of the managers of the 
road and the custodians of Yosemite Valley, their attention is called 
to a serious omission. Neither on the road nor in the valley is 
there a ''Lovers' Leap." Every 20-mile line in the East has its 
lovers' leap, but here in the grandest mountains of the United States 
there is no place where despairing swain and sighing maiden may 
plunge from parental pursuit. Of course there are numerous places 
from which lovers could jump. But no one spot has been fixed by 
tradition or designated by proper authority. It may be that the 
gentle breezes which at twilight breathe through the pines are the 




On the Way to Ei. Portai. 

sighs of those who have sought in vain the romantic, oblivious leap. 

The scenery grows in beauty and grandeur as the valley ascends. 
Foaming brooks plunge down the mountain. Streams leap in mad 
cascades from the cliffs. Mysterious pines sigh in harmony with 
the music of the waters. Foot-hills give place to mountains. Beet- 
ling crags and precipitous cliffs replace the gentle wooded slopes of 
the lower levels. 

While the mountains supply the element of grandeur to the 
view, the touch of beauty is given by the river. Nothing could be 
more beautiful than the reaches and pools of this bewitching stream. 
At times it flows gently through arches of foliage, or rests in quiet 
pools, soon to plunge over a fall in sheets of foam and showers of 
diamond spray into a boiling whirlpool. In many places the bed 




Bridai. Veii. Falls 




The Blephant 



If UNIVERSITY 

Of 



A NEW PORTAL TO PAR AD I SB 49 

of the stream is filled with enormous rocks, fragments of the over- 
hanging cliffs. Around and over these the water finds its way. 

No two views are alike, and the drive is a succession of delights. 
One never grows weary of such scenes. To the nature-lover, in- 
crease of appetite grows by what it feeds on. 

At last some subtle prescience tells us we are nearing the valley. 
No specific change of scenery, no individual feature of the landscape 
gives the message, but we feel it. 

Then the misty Bridal Veil tells us our dream has come true. El 
Capitan graciously permits approach to his domain. Then, one by 
one, the individual features of the valley, coming so rapidly as almost 
to appall the spirit, bid us know we have reached our goal. 

There are higher water falls, higher cliffs and taller mountains 
than those of Yosemite ; but nowhere in the world is there such an 
aggregation of wonders as in this valley. 

With its verdant meadows, cultivated fields, detached shade-trees, 
and winding woodland roads, the floor of the valley has the pastoral 
charm of an Eastern or English landscape. Turning from these 
peaceful scenes, we look upon lofty walls of rock, with distant moun- 
tain peaks beyond. It may be that the long approach, with its in- 
creasing beauty and grandeur, is necessary to prepare us for the 
consummate glory of the valley itself — that the spirit must be attuned 
to respond to the supreme harmony of nature. 

The greater number of tourists visit the valley early in the season. 
This is considered desirable, because the streams are full and the 
waterfalls more impressive. 

It was the writer's fortune to visit the valley late in September, 
1907. The volume of the streams had greatly diminished. Yosemite 
fall was a pitiful ghost of itself. At times only a thin thread of foam 
was visible, instead of the cataract of spring-time. Bridal Veil fall 
had greatly diminished. At times the wind would carry the entire 
stream away from its cliff. The most striking effect came when a 
sudden erratic puff carried the stream vertically into the air, pro- 
ducing the appearance of an inverted waterfall. 

Vernal fall at first gave slight evidence of the effect of low water, 
but two weeks later it had dwindled to three separate streams cling- 
ing to the cliff. 

To the writer Nevada is the grandest of the Yosemite falls. At 
full flood the stream leaps clear of its cliff with a thunderous roar. 
In September, the water follows the face of the cliff and roars more 
gently. But what the fall loses in grandeur, it gains in beauty. 

As its spray-drops catch the sunlight, the foamy sheet of the 
cataract is a veil of lace sewn with diamonds. It would be difficult 
to imagine a more beautiful sight than the Nevada fall in an early 
morning of autumn. Standing one day at the foot of Nevada, as 



50 OUT WEST 

the early sun came into the valley, I saw the light shine through the 
crest of the fall. Ordinarily blinding clouds of spray forbid near 
approach to the falls. But in September one may stand on the rims 
of the base-pools. But the approach is dangerous, as the water-worn 
granite and sandstone boulders are so smooth as to render footing 
exceedingly uncertain. There are the usual legends of enormous 
trout inhabiting these pools, fish so fierce and strong that the break- 
ing of ordinary tackle is their pastime. With fear and trembling I 
tried for one of these monsters in the pool of Bridal Veil. With 
eyes partly blinded by spray, chilled by the wind of the fall — the 
"Evil Wind" of Indian legend, I hooked and played a leviathan — 
eight inches in length. 

A word as to Yosemite trout. They are wise with the wisdom 
and lore of the ages. The most fascinating flies, the most luscious 
baits are unavailing. Young fish may take a languid interest in 
fly or bait, regarding it slightly, then expressing their contempt by 
a flirt of the tail against one's hook. The elders rest in blase indif- 
ference, not even taking trouble to recognize the angler's existence. 

Like other natives, the trout have acquired their wisdom from 
the whites. Every tourist must try for a trout, and does so with 
tackle of all sorts and sizes. It is likely that the fish refuse through 
pure disgust at the means employed for their beguilement. In Little 
Yosemite, and other tributaries of the Merced, where the trout are 
less sophisticated, sport is excellent, but it is not so within tourist 
range. Indians are the most successful fishermen. It is said — by 
the rest of us — that they trap their fish, but this is probably slan- 
derous. 

It is difficult to tell when the valley is more attractive, in spring 
or autumn. Each season has its peculiar charm. In the spring the 
verdure is more vivid, the cataracts mofe impressive and wild flowers 
more numerous and more brilliantly colored. But the autumn has 
its wild flowers, shy, modest creatures which claim the field after 
the departure of their brighter sisters of the spring. And then, 
also, the valley has a charm which, whenever felt, wins the heart 
to vague, wandering dreams of beauty — the spell of Indian summer. 
No positive sign tells us of its coming. But a "nip" in the air, tints 
of gold and scarlet in the woodlands, a subtle influence tempting 
us to a gentle pensiveness — not melancholy, but not gay — tell us that 
the dream-time of the year has come. Indescribable, elusive, it calls 
to us to wander afield in the land of the lotus. 

if there are places of greater beauty or sublimity than Yosemite 
in the autumn, they must be in another world. 

Every one who has seen the valley must return, and those who 
have seen it in spring-time alone, are urged to make their next visit 
in the autumn. 



THE CALL OF THE DESERT 5» 

Yosemite is said to be wonderfully impressive in winter, and 
we can well believe it. 

Heretofore the valley has been inaccessible during nearly half the 
year. As the stage-roads approach over the highlands, the heavy 
snows of winter render them impassable. But the railway and the 
short drive along lower levels, has made approach possible during 
the greater part of the year. Upon completion of the Government 
road from El Portal, it is the intention of the authorities to keep 
it open during the entire year. The valley is now under the control 
of the United States, having been ceded to the Federal Government 
by the State, the change resulting in a marked improvmnt in con- 
ditions. 

Two troops of cavalry are encamped near Yosemite fall ; and 
khaki-clad troopers galloping through the roads, and the evolutions 
of guard-mount add a picturesque touch to the landscape. 

In concluding a rambling account of a ramble, let me say: See 
Yosemite ! If you have seen it, go again ; if you have seen it twice, 
go again. 

Los Angeles. 



THE CALL or THE DESERT 

By MABEL ANN SMITH. 
♦ffli^AVE you lain throughout a summer night beneath a velvet sky, 
ukj Where, caught in trailing drifts of cloud, the moon went 
floating by? 
Have you heard the tread of four-foot things that round the 
camp-fire prowl. 
And shivered in your blanket at the lone coyote's howl ? 

Have you seen the morning sunlight gild the canon's lofty wall, 
Or the purple haze of evening fold the mesas in its pall ? 
Have you felt the flying sand-spray's stinging touch upon your face, 
While the painted cliffs behind you stood unchanging in their place ? 

Who is there has known the Desert ? He will love her to the last. 
Still her magic spell will hold him, after scores of years have passed. 
He'll be longing, while the city's din is surging in his ears. 
For the land of golden silence, where the hand of God appears ; 

For that ample land, and spacious, lying far beneath the sky, 
Slumb'rous plain and mighty headland, where the passing shadows 

lie. 
Think you to forget the Desert ? Nay, where'er your lot is cast, 
On your head her seal is graven ; she will call you to the last. 
Redlands, Cal. 




5» 

SPRING IN THE DESERT 

By SHARLOT M. HALL. 
ILENCE, and the heat lights shimmer like a mist of 
sifted silver, 
Down across the wide, low washes where the strange 

sand rivers flow; 
Brown and sun-baked, quiet, waveless, trailed with 
bleaching, flood-swept boulders ; 
Rippled into mimic water where the restless whirlwinds go. 

On the banks the gray mesquite trees droop their slender, lace- 
leafed branches, 
Fill the lonely air with fragrance, as a beauty unconfessed ; 
Till the wild quail comes at sunset with her timorous, plumed covey, 
And the iris-throated pigeon coos above her hidden nest. 

Every shrub distills vague sweetness ; every poorest leaf has 

gathered 
Some rare breath to tell its gladness in a fitter way than speech ; 
Here the silken cactus blossoms flaunt their rose and gold and 

crimson. 
And the proud saguarro lifts its pearl-carved crown from careless 

reach. 

Like to Lilith's hair down-streaming, soft and shining, glorious, 

golden, 
Sways the queenly palo verde robed and wreathed in golden flowers ; 
And the spirits of dead lovers might have joy again together 
Where the honey-sweet acacia weaves its shadow- fretted bowers. 

Velvet-soft and glad and tender goes the night-wind down the 

cafions. 
Touching lightly every petal, rocking leaf and bud and nest ; 
Whispering secrets to the black bees dozing in the tall wild lilies. 
Till it hails the sudden sunrise trailing down the mountain's crest. 

Silence, sunshine, heat lights painting opal-tinted dream and vision 
Down across the wide, low washes where the whirlwinds wheel and 

swing ; — 
What of dead hands, sun-dried, bleaching? What of heat and thirst 

and madness? 
Death and life are lost, forgotten, in the wonder of the spring. 
Dewey, Arizona. 




53 
SMALL THINGS IN THE YOSEMITE 

By JOSEPH ANTHONY. 
3HE YOSBMITE ! Is it possible that anything more can 
be told about it? It would seem as if the place had 
been visited, talked and written about until it and the 
subject had been worn out. But how little one does 
know of the Valley, or of what is to be seen and found 
there, even after seeing many pictures and reading many books ! 

Until we had been there we could not get things straight, and 
there are many things for us to learn about it yet, for a month's 
stay is no more than a starter. 

How many things there were for us to unlearn. We expected to 
get a lot of nice sugar-pine sugar; there was just one tree, with a 
little bitter sugar on it. 

We thought we might get one-half pound of pine-gum; with 
very little work we got two pounds. 

People told us there were no rattlesnakes, and one of the first 
things that happened I came very near being bitten by one. We 
were somewhat anxious about being able to get around the valley 
and over the trails on foot. We were told the dust was six inches 
deep — that the trails were steep and dangerous. We could not 
think of using horses, or the stages, so tramped, finding plenty of 
dust on some of the roads, to be sure, but it was "clean dirt," and 
the trails are good — not a foot of dangerous way did we go over. 

My wife walked one hundred miles and I one hundred and fifty, 
one hundred of which we carried baby on our backs, getting along 
H'ith comfort and pleasure, seeing and finding things that people 
do not who have not learned to walk. 

First of all we made our camp at Number Five, or Cho-Lack. The 
valley is laid out in camp-sites. People coming in must register at 
the guardian's office, then he will direct them to a certain place to 
camp. 

For ten dollars a month Mr. Salter, who keeps the store, fur- 
nished us with a tent, stove, cots and new bedding, table, cooking 
and table dishes, and, as we told him, with all our camping-out that 
was the first time we ever had enough dishes. We got groceries at 
the store, and they cost but little more than in San Francisco. There 
was plenty of wood — only had to be brought about a quarter of a 
mile. Good running water just back of our tent. 

The days of September were warm, the nights cool, and a camp- 
fire in front of the tent each evening made it very pleasant. From 
the camp we made short trips, each day a little longer one, to get 
toughened up, till at last we could walk ten or fifteen miles without 
feeling much tired. 

Of the Indians who used to live in the valley we found many signs 



54 OUT WEST 

and some relics. Near the foot of Bridal Veil Falls, in a dense 
thicket of little fir trees, is an immense boulder, entirely covered with 
thick green moss and lichens. Against the north face are still lean- 
ing great slabs of cedar bark, making a good o-chum, or Indian 
house, and looking very much as though the Indians had made it, 
but we could learn nothing about it, even from people who had 
lived many years in the valley. 

At the mouth of Indian Canon are the remains of six or more 
ochums. The cedar bark lies on the ground just as it fell or was 
torn down. 

Of ho-yas, or mortar-holes in large granite rocks, we found one 
hundred and sixty-six. At Indian Canon there is a flat rock about 
ten by sixteen feet, with forty-six holes in it — the most we have 
ever found in any one rock in the valley, or at any other Indian 
camp-site. This rock is about level with the ground. 

Just west of the road to the foot of the Yosemite Falls is a large 
high boulder with thirty-eight holes on top. This rock they had to 
ciimb to get on it, and it must have been a favorite place with the 
women, for it was worn smooth in several spots. Near the foot of 
the trail to Eagle Peak there is a large boulder that was once the 
site of an Indian workshop. There we found a large flake of 
obsidian, many small chips, spear-head of slate, and a hammer- 
stone of granite. Many small chips and flakes of obsidian were 
found scattered over the floor of the valley. In Indian Cave we 
found small pieces of obsidian and a hammer-stone, and some 
picture-writing that has been almost worn, burned and chipped off 
by people trying to get relics. It was marked on a boulder with 
red paint, and covers about six feet square. 

Of the Indians there now we met several, and they still make 
some fine baskets. Old Lucy made us a papoose basket to carry 
our baby in. It was a problem as to how to get around with her. 
We tried carrying her in our arms, but after going to Mirror Lake 
and back we saw that would not do. First thought of using a 
blanket to sling her in, then a kind of a board to strap her on, then 
a nice piece of light bark, then the right idea came — to get an Indian 
basket. We saw Lucy about it. She would make one in three 
days for three dollars and a half, and it proved to be the most 
handy, useful thing we could have had — the only possible way in 
which one can carry a child with safety and have free use of the 
hands. 

Over rocks, through brush, up trails and down ladders we carried 
the four-months child this way, the longest climb to Glacier Point, 
four miles, and a rise of three thousand feet. After three days' visit 
we returned by way of Nevada Falls, fifteen miles, which was the 
longest one-day trip. The child was always pleased to be tied in 



SMALL THINGS IN THB YOSEMITE. 5 5 

her basket, and never cried, except when hungry, many times having 
a good sleep while being carried. 

We also got of the Indians some beotah, or acorn-meal mush. 
The acorns shelled, pounded to meal, the bitter leached out, and 
cooked in a basket, by putting hot stones in it, make a healthful 
food, which tastes good, with a rich underflavor of oil. There are 
inany fine elderberries. We, as well as the Indians, picked them. 
They were good to eat out of hand, or made into pie or pudding. 
But to us one of the strangest things to eat was the honey-dew, 
and the quantity was almost beyond belief. 

In certain places it was on everything — seemed to come mostly 
(>flf the fir-trees, without the sign of aphides or anything else to 
produce it. The ground would be damp with it, the rocks wet, and 
the leaves of the low bushes under the firs shiny and thick. In 
many places it had turned to sugar in little drops on the ends of 
leaves. One had only to put a leaf of wild currant in the mouth 
to think they were eating black cur rant- jelly. The baby liked it, 
too, and would eat all we oflfered her. It was hard to think of little 
insects making it, there was so much and it was so clean. We looked 
carefully for some sign of Ufe, but could not find it; even on little 
trees a foot high, standing free from others in the open, the same 
sweetness would be found. 

Of pine-sugar we got just a taste. This was from a sugar-pine 
near Glacier Point Hotel. This is a true manna, and Pinus Latn- 
bertiana is the only native tree, so far as I know, that produces it. 
We expected to get a lot, but there are only two trees on the floor 
of the valley large enough to have any, and they are not burned. 
It seems to come out best where the trees have been burned, so 
that there is a thick layer of charcoal for the sugar to come through. 
It the sap or pitch comes out with the sugar, it will be yellow and 
bitter, while if it strains through the charcoal, it is white and some- 
what the shape of well-popped corn, with a very pleasant flavor. 
I once found eleven ounces on one tree growing on San Jacinto 
Mountain, but never before nor since have I found more than two 
ounces at one time. 

Of pine-gum we got a lot. This, to our taste, is the best to chew 
of any gum found in California. The place to find it is on the black 
pnies {Pinus Jeffreyi) that have been burned or heated enough to 
make the gum flow. One must be careful not to get pitch mixed 
with it. Boiled, or melted in water, poured out in cold water, and 
pulled like molasses candy, cut into pieces, it makes a very fine 
chewing gum. clean and wholesome. 

We came very near seeing a bear — seemed as if we must run 
on to one, the tracks were so fresh. There are two or three living 
in the valley, which come to the camps at night to pick up food. 



56 OUT WEST 

We were not at all anxious to find one, especially when tangled 
up in fallen logs, brush and rocks, with a baby on our backs, with- 
out breath enough to say, "Good morning, Mr. Bear. This is your 
home, and we are going to tear out of here just as quick as we can." 

There were wild-cat and deer tracks, and on the road from 
Wawona we saw two small deer. Many little chipmunks (Tamias) 
were living among the rocks. At Glacier Point Hotel they come on 
the table while people are eating, carrying off crackers and jumping 
into the butter. To us they are the cutest of little animals, some of 
them hardly larger than one's thumb, clean and lively. 

Of the Douglas squirrel we saw only one, and it was so far away 
we could not get acquainted. A very few gray squirrels. Two 
lived near our camp, were quite busy animals, seemed to make it 
their business every day to get into the tops of the black oak trees 
and cut off the small branches that had acorns on them, at times 
coming down to carry a few away, making a little hole in the ground 
and putting an acorn into it. Once we saw one sitting on the 
ground gnawing a piece of soup-bone. Why they cut so many 
acorns off, leaving them on the ground, we could not make out. 

We were much impressed by the scarcity of birds. While at 
Glacier Point we saw our first grouse. There were two — a mother 
and her chick — who lived around the hotel. When she first came 
near the hotel she had seven little ones, but had gradually lost all 
but one. 

Near Eagle Peak we saw an old mountain quail and four young. 
There were eight Clark's crows, many pigeons, perhaps twenty in 
all, but that is many more than we had ever seen before anywhere, 
or all put together; a few robins, one blue heron and one cafion 
wren, blue-jays, some hawks, and two eagles ; a junco, two humming 
birds, and two ouzels ; only three carpenter woodpeckers, the bird 
we were most anxious to see. Not a tree nor a hole with an acorn 
in it ; a very few trees with old empty holes in them ; bushels of 
acorns, ripe and dropping, but not a bird working on them. I 
have found trees with fifty thousand holes in them, one-half of them 
filled with acorns. From the earliest dawn until late at night the 
birds would work, carrying the acorns from the oaks to the pines 
and cedars. In the night we would hear them make a certain kind 
of noise, with a great flapping of wings, just as though they had 
fallen off a limb, being so utterly tired out from work. And it was 
queer to see them catch winged ants as they came out of an old log 
after a rain. They would take them on the wing just like a fly- 
catcher. Then they have what we call woodpecker wells. In oak 
trees, when a limb has broken off and decayed so that there is a 
hole into the trunk six inches or so deep, this fills with water or 
sap, which is dark-colored but not bitter, and seems to be a favorite 



SMALL THINGS IN THE. YOSEMITE. 57 

drink with the carpenter. One will come and sip and drink and 
guzzle, hanging outside under the hole, just as though he was 
about drunk, until another one comes and pushes him away; then 
it will go through the same performance. In the Spring they need 
only stick their bills in, as the holes are overflowing, but as the 
summer advances they must go deeper and deeper down the well 
till they are all but out of sight. To us they are one of the most 
interesting birds, and why there are so few in the valley we could 
not account for. 

Of course we went to Mirror Lake to see the sun rise. Got up 
at 4:15, had breakfast, and tore out for the lake. As we neared the 
mouth of Tenaiya Canon it seemed every minute as though the sun 
would pop over the top of Half Dome. We were in a fever of 
anxiety lest we should miss it after all. Got there all right, though, 
and had to wait two hours and five minutes, and while waiting 
had to build a fire to keep warm, for the sun rose at 9 :35. It truly 
was a fine thing to see the sun rising in the water two or three 
times, as one could make it do by walking a little ways. The 
color, the opalescent rays, the brightness of it all ! But what struck% 
us most — coming right home, as it were — was the baby's face. She 
was the first thing we looked at after the sun. We certainly were 
startled — thought something must have happened to her — her face 
the most intense purple, then it changed to gold. We looked at each 
other, and our faces were the same ; then it came to us that we were 
color-blind, or dazzled by looking so closely at the sun. It was the 
funniest thing. The fire had such spots of color. The pebbles 
were the intensest blue. I could not help picking some up to save, 
even knowing the color would not last. This illusion lasted some 
time, but gradually passed away. 

Of the rocks there were plenty, the most immense blocks of 
granite, many of them like "turtle backs," upside down. They 
seem to rest on one of the smaller faces, so that they over-hang, 
and by leaning back against them the Indians must have had good 
homes. 

On the north wall of the valley, just east of Indian Creek, is still 
a trace of glacial polish, the only place we found it on a wall. In 
the creek-beds above the Falls there are plenty, and some perfect 
pot-holes, big at bottom, little at top, six feet deep, and full of 
clean water. On the trail to Eagle Peak, one mile northwest of 
the rim of the valley, there is a fine balanced rock, four by six 
feet on top, thirty inches high, and flat as a table, which will rock 
up and down with a light pressure on the edge. This rock is one 
hundred feet north of the trail, and within plain sight. 

And the snakes. We did not expect to find the track of one, 
much less to see them, old kinds and new ones. The gopher snake, 



58 OUT WEST 

 Pityophis catenifer, one fine specimen and five eggs ; the first eggs 
we had ever seen, maybe laid by this snake, for they were in the 
same neighborhood, near the Indian Canon. The eggs were lying 
on a little mound of earth at the mouth of a ground-squirrel's hole. 
Four were stuck together and one was separate. They are one 
inch by two inches, white, with a tough skin like a turtle's egg. 
In each one was a little snake nine inches long, nicely marked. Two 
little rattlesnakes, Crotalus coniiuentus lucifer. We found one right 
under El Capitan. I was picking up gum at the foot of a pine 
tree, when the little rascal struck at me twice before I saw him, 
or could get my hand away, but each time falling short. He was 
only fifteen inches long, with one rattle, which he did not use until 
after striking, then my wife could hear it distinctly fifty feet away. 
He crawled under a stone, which I turned over, but could not see 
where he lay, as his markings were so exactly like the fresh broken 
granite rocks, black and white. Not until I touched him with a 
stick could 1 see him. We were mighty careful after that as to 
where we stepped or sat down, for we realized how easy it would 
be to step on one or even put our hands on it. 

The second one we found while on the trail to Upper Yosemite 
Falls. He was curled up, half buried in the dust, at the edge of 
the trail. I saw him when about eight feet away, so do not know 
whether or not he would have struck at anyone passing. He was 
nineteen inches long, with two rattles, colored and marked like the 
first, gray and black, but was much easier to see. This was the 
first time I ever found a snake buried in the dust, though had often 
heard that rattlesnakes do it to keep warm. 

On the same trip and trail, five hundred feet above the floor of 
the valley, we found the little coral snake, Elaps euryxanthus. This 
is a doubtful snake, for its cousin, Elaps fulvius (also called coral 
snake, American cobra and candy stick, of the southern Gulf States), 
is one of the six known poisonous snakes of the United States. The 
one we found was sixteen inches long, sharply marked with bands 
of black and light red, and, between, narrow bands of creamy white ; 
these three colors, glossy and clear, make it one of the most beauti- 
fully colored snakes in North America. 

Three little garter snakes, Eutania elegans elegans. In handling 
one it left a very strong smell on my hands, an odor different than 
any other I have ever found, and one that was almost impossible to 
wash off. 

One other little serpent, Diadolphus amahilis pulchellus, with no 
every-day name that I know of. They are full grown at fifteen 
inches, brown green, with black spots, beneath deep orange red — a 
harmless, pretty snake, but a fighter. The one we found was at 
the side of the road to Mirror Lake. He threw himself into a coil 
and striking many times, vibrated his tail, threshing about, ten 
times more than any rattlesnake, then all of a sudden jumped into 
a little hole and was gone. 

We found eight snakes in all, and saw twenty-three fresh tracks, 
where they had just crossed the road, most of them near the mouth 
of Indian Canon. 

It was an off-year for most kinds of cones. The spruce-trees were 
well loaded, and on the four-mile trail to Glacier Point were the 
most beautiful Douglas spruce — that is, for color, so rich and green, 



SMALL THINGS IN THE YOSEMITB. $9 

with a tint of yellow. One of these trees, growing near the medial 
moraine, is the largest tree of any kind that we found in the valley. 
It is twenty-seven feet eight inches in circumference, breast-high. 
At the top of Yosemite Falls and on Sentinel Dome are a few 
mountain pine, Pinus monticola, and some had cones full of seed. 
There are a very few sugar pine on the floor of the valley. They 
grow higher up about the rim, but among all we did not see over 
a dozen cones, and were not able to get a single one. 

On the south road to the lower bridge there is one tree twenty- 
two feet four inches in circumference, breast-high, and on the same 
road, or rather near the branch which goes across the river ford, 
is the largest yellow pine (Pinus ponder osa) we have ever seen, 
twenty-five feet ten inches in circumference and two hundred and 
twenty-five feet high, with a forked top. The fork makes a good 
mark to find it by. Being so covered in by small trees it is hard to 
locate, even when right close up. Of Libocedrus dccurrens, the 
Incense Cedar, there are some very fine trees. The largest, twenty- 
five feet in circumference, is at Mr. Fiske's house. 

The Incense Cedar is a favorite storehouse tree with the carpenter 
woodpecker, and the almost everlasting bark was used by the 
Indians for their houses, and is also very fine to use in making a 
picturesque camp, to cover the walls and roofs of cabins, around 
tents, or for screens of any kind. 

A fir tree [Abies magniUca) growing about two miles north of 
Eagle Peak, on the trail, is twenty-four feet eight inches in circum- 
ference, breast-high. A mile from the top of Upper Yosemite Falls, 
near the creek, there are some juniper trees, Juniperus occidentalis. 
They are so short and stubby, so covered with fine yellow moss and 
lichens, almost more than they have of leaves, that it is worth the 
trip to see them. 

We took one trip in a wagon, and only one, down the valley eight 
miles, near the Cascades, to see some False Nutmeg trees, Turnion 
Calif ornicum. These were the first we had ever seen, except two 
small ones in Golden Gate Park. Galen Clark knew just where to 
find them, and we were very glad to make the trip with him. He 
found the largest trees, and the finest fruits, and we got some good 
specimens of leaves and nuts. The largest tree is about two feet 
in diameter and thirty feet high. One must leave the stage and 
go to the south a little way to find the best trees. 

On this trip Mr. Clark showed us his Claude Loraine Mirror, a 
most wonderful piece of glass, about ten inches square. One holds 
it up with his back to the view and then he sees the whole valley 
at once as in a picture, but so soft, so filled with the most delicate 
coloring, it is hard to believe there is not some enchantment about it. 

It may seem trivial, a waste of time, and out of place, for us to 
have noticed all the little things, when there was so much without 
compare to be seen. I think, though, that we enjoyed the great 
things to the full. We could sense all and appreciate them better 
than if they were all that we could see. 

The peaks and domes, the clifTs and waterfalls, the immensity of 
it all grew upon us day by day. All too soon we had to leave, but 
we are going back, as sure as the pine trees grow there, as sure 
as the waterfalls can say, "Kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall, but we 
fall on forever." 

San Francisco. 




6o 

AN ARIZONA CUPID 

By EDMUND VANCE COOKE. 
ISS CARROLL," said Richard Montgomery White, 
Third, "I have son\ething to say to you, something I 
have never yet — " 

He hesitated a Httle despite his perfect poise, and the 
girl, who had gone a little white under her warm skin, 
recovered and broke in, a trifle nervously: "Dear me! I hope I 
haven't been doing anything very bad. You mustn't expect too 
much of me, you know. If I were to scold you in return, I think 
I'd have to tell you that while you are almost perfect here, you have 
one horrible failing. You insist on everybody's adopting the single 
Bostonian standard. Now when you visit Arizona, I'm afraid you 
will find us still voting for Billy Bryan and doing other shocking 
things. Oh, I've mixed that up horribly, haven't I ? But you know 
what I mean, and you are coming to Arizona, aren't you ?" 

Mr. White listened with perfect politeness, but no sign of amuse- 
ment, and then said : "What I want to tell you, I have never yet told 
to any woman." 

Again the girl broke in, this time with a roguish pretense of alarm. 
"Oh, Mr. White, I do hope it isn't one of those wicked man-stories 
with a swear-word in it. Please consider ! My chaperone isn't 
here. I wonder why they are called chaperones. Down in my 
country we would send the chaperones to the chaparral. But that's 
wasted on you, isn't it? You are so provincial. It's a good deal 
like saying 'Back to the woods' in Bostonese, but we don't have any 
woods — only chaparral, and pretty barren of that." 

"Miss Carroll," persisted the young man, a trifle stiffly, "what I 
have to say is something no woman has a right to treat lightly." 

The girl put out her hand with a little pleading gesture. "Forgive 
me. I am acting horrid. But you don't, you won't, understand." 

Her hand rested between his fingers a moment and he said, a 
little bewildered: "You don't want me to say it?" 

She withdrew her hand gently, and turned her face aside, shaking 
her head slightly. "Not now — not yet," her lips formed, but hardly 
uttered. 

"But why?" he asked evenly. "I am not speaking hastily. I have 
carefully considered the matter. I have thought of what you have 
hinted, pardon me if I say rather flippantly, that we have been 
reared in different environments ; but after all, you know, Mr. Cham- 
berlain came to Massachusetts, Lord Curzon went to Chicago, 
and—" 

"Oh, oh, oh !" cried the girl tensely, tears in her eyes and laughter 
on her lips, "Mr. White, I will not listen. You don't know me at all. 



AN ARIZONA CUPID. 6i 

but you think you do. I don't know you either, but I realize it. I 
have never seen you! If only you could be separated from your 
shell ! Hush !" She slipped over to the piano, and, fingering some 
music, said over her shoulder to the lady who entered : "Florence, 
Mr. White and I have been discussing ornithology. He has been 
studying my habitat through the curriculum furnished by Mr. 
Thomas's play, Mr. Cody's show and the jokes about Alkali Ike." 

Mr. White looked politely blank. Mrs. Protheroe was smoothing 
her gloves over her shapely fingers. "Really, my dear," she said, 
"you accuse me of abstruseness sometimes, but you — " 

"Why, don't you see?" said the g^rl gaily, entirely recovered. "The 
question is, Why do birds of a feather flock together?" 

With this sally and a little meaning glance at him, Mr. Richard 
Montgomery White, Third, felt his suit set aside, and the three 
proceeded to Symphony Hall to enjoy the evening as best they 
might. 

Richard Montgomery White had never seen America. "Richard 
Montgomery White, Third," he signed it, and he had added "of 
Boston" all his life. He frequently visited New York; he was 
familiar with the Maine coast; he had once gone as far south as 
Hampton Roads ; he knew the American legation in nearly every 
principal city of Europe — and these are the reasons he had never 
seen America. 

But one day America had come to him. One day he had met her, 
and in meeting her had met it. One day his vision had been broad- 
ened marvelously, and he had discovered that z'\merica is not New 
England, with New York as a sort of a vermiform appendix, but 
that there are inhabited lands even beyond Ohio, Iowa and Omaha. 
While he was not quite certain whether Omaha had even been 
admitted into the Union, he knew there was such a place, because 
when he was in Bologna pursuing Guido Reni he had learned that 
two or three of the master's treasures were in Lininger's collection 
in Omaha. 

But had he been told, even then, that there was another place a 
thousand miles west and south of Omaha, where if old masters did 
not flourish new masters did — aye, and new mistresses too (mis- 
tresses in the fine old romantic sense), and that he — he, Richard 
Montgomery White, Third — was to give up his heart to a girl born 
and brought up in "the desert" of Arizona, he would have politely 
begged your pardon. Other men, born "out West" (perhaps as far 
as Pittsburg), might have laughed you to scorn, but Mr. Richard 
Montgomery White, Third, would have politely ignored your re- 
mark, or have begged pardon for diflFering. 

Nevertheless you would have been right and Mr. White wrong, 
which he would never have discovered if the Arizona thermometer 



62 OUT WEST 

were not in the habit of boiling the mercury all through the long 
summer. It happened, therefore, that Miss Carroll spent a summer 
in New England, and Montgomery, as a few, a very few, were privi- 
leged to call him, found that New England was an absurdly small 
place. Whether he sought the aristocratic regions of Newport, the 
democratic delights of Old Orchard, the exaltation of the White 
Mountains or the calm of Concord, where he was, there was she 
also. Then he discovered another thing. The meetings were by 
design. Furthermore, he was the designer. 

Montgomery took himself apart and talked to himself. It was a 
confidential conversation and can hardly be reported verbatim, but 
it is generally believed that Mr. White asked himself what his inten- 
tions were. After which occurred the conversation with Miss Cal- 
roll already reported. 

It took some time, after Miss Carroll returned to her home, for 
Montgomery to conceive the idea that he would discover America. 
Then, like Columbus before him, he resolutely set his face towards 
the terrors of the unknown West. To make the exploration as 
thorough as possible, he went by the northern route, travelled "the 
Coast" from Seattle to San Diego, and started back via the southern. 
In that way he sought to disguise from himself the real objective 
point of his trip. But though there were a dozen conventional rea- 
sons why he should stop at Salt Lake, Portland, San Francisco, Los 
Angeles, etc., he had to force himself to get off the trains, but found 
no difficulty in prevailing upon himself to stop at Maricopa. And 
what is there at Maricopa ? Nothing at all. 

The Sunset Limited dumped him off in the chill dark of the small 
hours, when the blood flows sluggishly, and the connecting train for 
Phoenix was not even open for two or three hours. He looked at 
the black sky in which the stars blazed brighter than he had ever 
seen them, at the wide, weird desert, empty and desolate, at the little 
group of buildings huddled around the station, and then he thought 
of her, with a touch of dismay, and asked himself, "Is it possible?" 

But when the train rolled into Phoenix by daylight and he was 
met at the station by a trim young lady who looked as fresh as the 
radiant morning, driving an eager-to-go horse attached to a stylish 
trap, his soul sang in a different key. True, Montgomery White's 
nature was not given to exuberance and the song never got from 
his soul to his lips, but he must have been cold indeed not to have 
felt the exhilaration of the short spin up the broad street to the 
"Adams." 

"I'm going to leave you at the hotel now, because I know you 
want your bath and your coffee," she said. "Then, if you have 
nothing better to do, Mr. Marley and I will pick you up about ten 
and show you how the Salt River valley looks from his Mercedes. 



AN ARIZONA CUPID. 63 

In the afternoon wd can play a little golf at the Country Club if 
you like. You can't do that in Boston in mid-winter very often, 
can you? There's a visitor's card waiting for you there, and Mr. 
Marley wants the pleasure of introducing you at the Maricopa Club. 
Mama wants you at dinner at six-thirty; just a small affair — Uncle 
Robert, the Lessings, Mr. Marley and one or two intimates. We 
don't want to tire you.'' 

Montgomery swallowed part of his surprise, but the rest found 
utterance. **Good Lord, Miss Carroll, what have we after dinner? 
Grand opera?" 

Miss Carroll laughed. "Oh, I don't deny that we're putting our 
best foot forward. Does ten o'clock suit you ?" 

"I'm ready now," said the young man, "and I'm very sure I much 
prefer your horse to the best motor which ever punctured a tire." 

"Oh, but I promised to save you for Sam — Mr. Marley. He'd be 
awfully disappointed. We'll drive some other time, if you like." 

"Do with me as you will," murmured the young man, yielding the 
point politely. "I wouldn't disarrange your plans," 

A little later, when Marley swung his car around to the entrance 
of the Adams and the two men met, Montgomery raised his hat and 
murmured, "Glad to meet you, I'm sure," while Marley cried 
heartily: "Heard so much about you, seems as if I'd known you 
always ! Now you climb in with Bert, and don't pay any attention 
to me, except to punch me to go faster or slower, or to give me 
directions if you have any. I know you're dying for a visit with 
Bert — I was, when she got back from Boston — and you and I can 
swap lies later. For the next two hours I'm nothing but the choofer." 

Despite, or perhaps because of, Marley's attitude, Montgomery 
had a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. "How sure he must be !" he 
thought to himself, "and what a way he has with him ! Sort of a 
masculine gender to her own. 'Birds of a feather.' Good Lord, 
was that what she meant ? I wonder why I cannot be like that !" 

At the end of the spin, Mr. White begged to be allowed to be 
host at luncheon, but Miss Carroll demurred. "Just drop me off 
at the house and you men go on. If you want me to play golf this 
afternoon you must give me time to change my skirt." 

"I say, Mr. Marley," said Montgomery, nervously, after Miss 
Carroll had disappeared, "I'm sure I beg your pardon for a very 
absurd question, but you can have no idea how it bothers me." 

"Out with it !" urged Marley. 

"Well, you know, I ought to be ashamed of myself, but I under- 
stand we are to dine at the Carrolls, and — and — well, do we dress 
for dinner?" 

Marley laughed frankly, and then, lowering his voice in mock 
confidence, he said, "My friend, you have come to the right man. 



6+ OUT wnsi 

When I came here five years ago I came on a hurry-call, and what 
I didn't know about the Southwest would have filled the famous 
library in your town. I packed in a hurry, and about the last thing 
I did was to throw my dress-suit to my room-mate (he was about 
my size), never expecting to see one again. First thing after I got 
here I got a bid to some function or other, and they told me I could 
wear buckskin if I liked. I suppose I could have, but there were 
ninety-eight men there that night, and ninety-seven of 'em wore 
the most irreproachable evening dress. Gee ! there wasn't even a 
wing-collar. You can imagine how the ninety-eighth man felt." 

The visitor could not help but admire the good-natured tact of 
the explanation. "Mr. Marley," he said, after a pause, "you're a 
very good fellow, and you're going to do me so many kindnesses, 
give me a card to your club, and all that. Miss Carroll told me. 
1 want to be decent to you. I think I ought to tell you that I'm 
here to win, if I can." 

"You're a square sport," cried Marley, "and I like you. I'm 
free to say that you have a chance — oh, a very good chance; but 
now that you've put it up to me, I don't mind telling you I'll try 
to make you run second. But you may be sure of a fair deal, as 
far as I'm concerned, and if you win, you'll find me a good loser. 
I don't want any girl, not even Bert Carroll, if she wants some- 
body else." 

"You mean Miss Carroll," corrected the Easterner, offering his 
hand, which Marley grabbed emphatically. There was a tacit truce 
for the afternoon, but in the evening the war was on. 

Montgomery suddenly realized that he was anxious to make a 
good impression upon Miss Carroll's friends and family, and he 
marveled at it a little. He exerted himself to be agreeable to every- 
one, from Miss Carroll's well-bred fox-terrier. Gyp, to Miss Car- 
roll's well-fed Uncle Hubert. 

"So you're new to Arizona," that important man was saying, 
fixing his small shrewd eyes on the visitor. "Now, I'll bet you 
never saw such a climate as this in Boston." 

"The climate is wonderful," acceded Montgomery. 

"Rather beats your east winds, don't it? Ever see five crops of 
alfalfa in a year in Boston?" inquired Uncle Hubert, waving a 
fat hand. 

"I'm quite sure I never did. I don't believe Boston goes in much 
for alfalfa." 

"Do you know that the finest oranges in the world grow right 
here in this valley?" 

"I didn't, but I know it now," said Montgomery, urbanely. 

"More mineral wealth in this territory than any other parcel 
of land in the world, when it's developed." 



AN ARIZONA CUPID. 6^ 

"Mr. White," put in a guest, "you ought to be warned that 
Carroll is a professional Arizonian. He's only happy when he's 
proving the entire inferiority of the rest of the world." 

But Hubert Carroll, or "Hub," as he was generally called, was 
of a type which is in every community, and was not to be deterred. 
"Ain't I right?" he demanded. "H I ain't, tell me just one thing, 
just one thing, Mr. White, that you got back East which compares 
with what we've got." 

"Nothing at all," smiled Montgomery, "unless it is the habit of 
allowing people to find out our good qualities for themselves." 

A little ripple of laughter went around, and Hub Carroll's large, 
round face went red, but he returned to the attack. "You think 
you've got trees, but we've got trees turned into jewels, in the 
petrified forest. You think you've got hills, but we could lose the 
whole outfit in the Grand Canon. Birds, too. You think you've 
got birds back East, but we'll show you some real birds one of 
these days." 

"Birds of a feather, I'm afraid," murmured Miss Carroll in Mont- 
gomery's ear. 

"What's that, Bertie?" demanded the uncle, noting the arch 
glance, and not half pleased. 

"Just quoting the old proverb, Uncle, about the birds of a feather 
flocking together." 

"Sometimes they don't. There's Abou Ben Ezra," said her 
uncle, shortly but jocularly, and lapsed into silence. 

It seemed a lame conclusion to the man from Boston, but the 
entire little company was too well satisfied with having side-tracked 
Mr. Carroll's Arizonianism, and plunged into other subjects. 

Montgomery, however, was conscious that he had not scored very 
heavily with the head of the Carrolls. A week passed, and he failed 
to see that he was making any progress with the most important 
of the Carrolls, either. More than once he had essayed the subject 
which haunted his heart; essayed it calmly and deliberately, and 
always she had evaded his carefully prepared attack. "One of these 
days," he said to himself, "that bluff chap Marley will pick her 
up in his good-humored way, pack her in his motor and carry her 
off to the minister's before she knows it." 

He consoled himself, however, with the thought that the catas- 
trophe would not occur that morning, at any rate, for Gyp came 
tearing into the Adams' lobby, where he sat, leaping upon him 
and licking his hands. 

"Gyp," whispered the young man, whimsically, "where thou art 
there she must be also. Lead on ! I'll follow thee." 

Miss Carroll's trap stood before the post office, a short block 



66 OUT WEST 

away, and Montgomery played his lead boldly. "Is this the morn- 
ing you are to give me that promised drive ?" 

"This is the morning," accepted the girl, "and I can also redeem 
uncle's promise at the same time. I'll show you the birds." 

"Of your uncle's feather?" asked the young man, grimly, taking 
the reins as she moved over. 

"They're all uncle's feathers," laughed the girl. 

He did not understand the retort and did not care. It was enough 
to be alone with her, behind a willing horse, on a good road, 
coursing briskly away from the morning sun. Far past the out- 
skirts of the little city they rode, saying little, but possibly feeling 
the more. Gyp was the animation of the party, now far ahead, 
now lagging behind a little, now dashing for a meadow-lark on a 
sprouting fence-post, or barking loudly for pure joy of living. 

"Yes, you have quite a variety of birds," the young man was 
saying lazily, "especially as you haven't any foliage to speak of, 
except cotton-woods. Have you ever noticed how many more va- 
rieties there are around us, if you watch close, than the average 
mortal conceives? Gyp seems to find some which we don't, too." 

"Oh, I forgot Gyp," exclaimed the girl, suddenly. "What shall 
we do with Gyp?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Why, we're going to uncle's farm, and dogs aren't allowed." 

"Dogs debarred from a farm? Most extraordinary. What's 
the chief product of your uncle's farm ? Pussy-cats ?" 

"No, birds. Haven't we told you ? B-i-r-d-s." 

"But, bless us, the birds won't bite him. And he can't catch 
them." 

"Wait a minute," laughed the girl. "It's a shame to mystify you 
with so simple a conundrum." They came to a slight rise in the 
ground and the girl pointed. There, sure enough, were birds, 
birds seven or eight feet tall, hundreds of them." 

"Most extraordinary!" said Montgomery. "Surely you have 
not bewitched me all the way to Africa." 

"Only to uncle's ostrich farm, of which he is inordinately proud." 

"And Gyp?" 

"The birds are afraid of dogs. One little Gyp may stampede a 
whole herd." 

"A little terrier like Gyp? Why, I thought an ostrich could kill 
a man with a stroke of his — er, which is it, a hoof or a claw?" 

"So he can, or so I'm told. But he has to strike straight from 
the shoulder, so to speak. He can't kick downwards, so anything 
as close to the ground as Gyp puts him in a panic. Foolish, isn't 
he?" 



AN ARIZONA CUPID. 67 

"Foolish as a man in love. Afraid of he knows not what." 

"I'd like to see you in a panic just once," said the girl, with 
seemingly causeless vexation. "You're always so dead calm." 

Before the young man could express his well-controlled sur- 
prise she touched the reins. "I know what we'll do. We'll tie 
here and Gyp will guard the horse. He will do that all day as 
faithful as " 

"As what?" asked the young man. 

"As a dog," said the girl. "There is no other comparison. Come ! 
we'll walk across the farm to the house. It will give me a chance 
to show it to you. You see it's all fenced off into large pens." 

"Pens? Apartments, you mean, and a happy pair in each flat. 
What a gallant man your uncle must be." 

"Gallant? Oh, yes, to ostriches. Did you know that ostriches 
choose their own mates out of the herd ? But women ! he thinks 
they ought to mate as their rich uncles direct." 

"Ah!" said the man, jealously, " 'Birds of a feather' is his motto, 
then. But what do beautiful nieces think of the plans of rich 
uncles ?" 

"Beautiful nieces," quoted the girl, gaily, "are as difficult to 
manage as Abou Ben Ezra, and show as hateful a temper." 

"Your uncle's riddle again." 

"One of the birds," exclaimed the girl. "A handsome fellow, 
but he fights every living thing which comes within sight of him. 
He's even so ugly he abuses his wife, so he usually is made to flock 
by himself." 

"Poor devil!" sighed Montgomery, dolorously. 

Thus they chattered and walked, and Montgomery told himself 
he had never been so truly happy before. The polished blue of 
the sky, the dark green of the alfalfa, the warmth of the air, the 
hint of remoteness from customary civilization given by the big 
bipeds, and, above all, the solitude — solitude with one another, which 
is the sort worth having — brought a bubbling joy into his heart. 
Through his mind there ran the lilt of Frederick's song, from 
Mignon, capering care-free. Then he became aware that the girl's 
clear contralto had burst softly into the same melody which was 
thrumming through his mind. He uttered a little cry of suppressed 
enthusiasm at the coincidence and joined in the song. She looked 
at him questioningly, but somehow he did not care to break the 
harmony with words, and she seemed to understand. Then, while 
the spell was yet on them, he took off his hat and touched her hand, 
as if to attract her attention. She did not pretend to misunderstand, 
but breathed a soft little sigh and put away the moment. "Come," 
she said, "it is getting far into the morning. Let us cut through this 
empty corral on the way to the house." 



68 CUT WEST 

"Oh, my prophetic soul, your uncle !" groaned Montgomery. 

They were a third of the way across the corral, perhaps, when 
the girl gave a cry of alarm. "Abou !" 

Montgomery looked. Up from somewhere flashed the black and 
white of a huge male ostrich. Doubtless he had been resting quietly 
in some corner, and his motionless body had blended into the field 
in the unconsciously cunning way which nature has contrived for 
all hunted creatures. Angrily the monstrous bird dropped into its 
posture of challenge, squatting, ruffling his plumes, his head de- 
scribing a raging arc from side to side, lashing himself, as it were, 
preparatory to the charge. 

Montgomery's first emotion was of delight, as the girl's rounded 
body swayed close to his and the perfume of her hair brushed his 
face. His second sensation was of interest in the spectacular prep- 
arations of the bird, and his third was of genuine alarm. To look 
at the silly face and sapling neck of an ostrich through a wire screen- 
ing is one thing. To be caged in a corral face to face with a three- 
hundred-pound catapult which can move like an express-train and 
strike a blow like a pile-driver is another. Not a way to escape! 
Not a weapon of any sort within reach ! To run were folly ; to fight 
were fatal ! 

For a second they stood like victims in an ancient amphitheater, 
awaiting the rush of their destroyer. Then two warm arms went 
around his neck, two soft lips went straight to his. The ostrich was 
coming. 

Montgomery closed his arms and his eyes and laughed low and 
delightedly. Then, in the moment of his intoxication, he had an 
inspiration. "Sweetheart — the dog — what you told me — down — 
down !" 

Half comprehending, half forced, the girl slipped prone upon, or 
rather into, the alfalfa, and her lover flung himself beside her, just 
as the ostrich struck, but struck above them. 

"It worked!" ejaculated Montgomery; "it worked!" He slipped 
his hand toward hers. 

"No, no," put your face down and put your arms over youi 
neck." 

"I'd rather put them around yours," complained the young man, 
but followed her example. "What's all this for?" 

"Rich !" came in a smothered voice from, the alfalfa. "Did you 
ever see anything as good as this in Boston?" 

"Oo!" answered Montgomery, irrelevantly. "The villain stepped 
on me !" For the baffled ostrich, after angrily circling around, was 
deliberately trying the effect of his three hundred pounds upon his 
victims, and his horny toe was far from comfortable, even through 
clothing. 

"Keep your head and neck covered," warned the girl again. 

Montgomery wriggled around until his head was toward hers, 
each head fitting into the other's shoulder. "I file an improvement 
on your patent. This way I can cover my head and your own, too. 
Ugh ! that brute of a bird is sitting on me." 



AN ARIZONA CUPID. 69 

The girl moved her cheek gently so that it rubbed against his. 
"Do you mind it much?" she whispered. 

"Sweetheart," came the answer, passionately, "I mind nothing 
under the heavens or in the earth, now or forever, except that you 
are mine and I am yours, and I am with you." 

The girl closed her eyes and the lids trembled. Her lips were 
parted, her cheeks softly flushed. Suddenly she turned her face 
away from him. "Oh, glory," she breathed to herself. "He is 
awake !" 

Montgomery raised his head and shoulders and came down with 
his face to hers. "Don't raise your head up like that!" panted the 
girl. "He'll kill you !" 

"Then don't you turn your face away," he commanded master- 
fully. 

She closed her eyes aagin, her lips trembling. Montgomery im- 
proved the opportunity. "Dearest," he said, "you said you wanted 
to see me in a panic. Well, I'm afraid." 

"Of what?" 

"Afraid the reptile will go away and that this may end." 

The girl laughed delightedly. "Oh, Montgomery, who would 
ever have thought that you, you, could be so loveably ridiculous !" 
Then, changing her tone, she said, "Can you eat alfalfa? It's the 
bird's regular diet, but I'm getting hungry." 

"Gad ! so's the ostrich," retorted the young man. "He's pecking 
at my hand. Is — is his bite dangerous?" 

The girl shook with laughter. "About as much as a goose's. 
It's your ring. He's trying to get your diamond." 

"Bertha!" shouted the young man. "I've got him. Get up and 
run !" The ostrich had pecked aagin, and Montgomery had flashed 
his hands up and seized the long, sinuous neck. The huge biped 
was powerless. 

The girl stood not upon the order of her going. "I'll send some 
help," she called back. 

"Not from your uncle," growled the young man, struck with 
another idea. 

Fishing out his handkerchief and holding the neck firmly in one 
hand, he whirled the linen around the eyes of the bird with the 
other, then seized the ends and tied them. A blinded ostrich is as 
docile as a kitten. Perhaps Montgomery did not know this, as he 
gave the neck a final vicious tug, which sent the big bird somer- 
saulting over him. 

When they were outside the corral the girl looked at him with 
flushed cheeks and shining eyes. "Don't you dare to laugh !" she 
warned, and then they both shouted and swayed. 

By a mutual impulse they retraced their steps toward the horses. 
Gyp leaped up as they approached, his tail wig-wagging signals of 
welcome and congratulation. "Here's your new master, Gyp," said 
the man, stooping to pet him. "I wonder what uncle will think 
when he finds that hooded ostrich." 

"Isn't there a tradition somewhere of a blind and winged god 
who sometimes brings true lovers together?" asked the girl, de- 
murely, 

Montgomery held his sides again. "Abou Ben Ezra and the 
little winged Cupid! Birds of a jfeatherj" 

Cleveland, O. 




70 

A TOUCH or NATURE, 

By EUGENE MAN LOVE RHODES. 
ILLY BEEBE, '00 of Harvard, taking his ease at his 
inn — or, at least, in the terraced gardens that were its 
chiefest charm — was extremely well pleased with him- 
self, life, the world, and the pleasant places thereof 
where now his lines were cast. Thus far he had won 
on his Wander-year; but the lure of Arizona suns held him 
thrall — Circe-charmed, lulled and lapped with warmth and quiet 
restfulness. 

There was good red blood in the boy, despite a certain erro- 
neous superiority. It stirred to the call of these splendid horizons. 
The mysterious desert scoffed and questioned, drew him with 
promise of strange joys and strange griefs. The iron-hard moun- 
tains beckoned and challenged from afar, wove him their spells 
of wavering lights and shadows; the misty warp and woof of 
them shifting to swift fantastic hues of trembling rose and blue 
and violet, half-veiling, half-revealing, steeps unguessed and 
dreamed-of sheltered valleys — and all the myriad-voice of moaning 
waste and world-rimming hill cried "Come!" 

Faint, fitful undertone of drowsy chords, far pealing of elfin 
bells ; that was pulsing of busy acequias, tinkling of mimic water- 
falls. The clean breath of the desert crooned by, bearing a grate- 
ful fragrance of apple-blossoms ; rippled the deepest green of alfalfa 
to undulating sheen of purple and flashing gold. The broad fields 
were dwarfed to play-garden prettiness by the vastness of over- 
whelming desert, to right, to left, before; whose nearer blotches 
of black and gray and brown faded, far off, to a nameless shimmer, 
its silent leagues dwindling to immeasurable blur, merging indis- 
tinguishable in the burning sunset. "East by up," overguarding 
the Oasis, the colossal bulk of Rainbow walled out the world with 
grim-tiered cliffs, cleft only by the deep-gashed near gates of 
Rainbow Pass, where the swift river broke through to rich fields 
of Rainbow's End, bring in a fulfillment of the fabled pot of gold. 
Below, the whilom channel wandered forlorn — Rainbow no longer, 
but Lost River — to a disconsolate delta, waterless save as infrequent 
floods found turbulent way to the Sink, when wild horse and 
antelope revisited their old haunts for the tender green luxury of 
these brief, belated springs. 

Billy had eyes to see and ears to hear. But, alas, as too often, 
he felt called upon to instructive prophecy. Giving sway to the 
master-muscle, things temporal faded before the glory of things 
spiritual. Deep in mid-harangue of didactic eloquence he cor- 
ruscated, to the much edification of his sole auditor, John Wesley 
Pringle, tough battered veteran of Lost Legions, who hung on 



A TOUCH OF NATURE. 71 

his sonorous periods with ill-concealed admiration and unfeigned 
inner delight. 

Having safely conducted the Pilgrim Fathers to Leyden and 
to Massachusetts ("thus twice-sifted from England's best," said 
Billy), he rigorously sifted their sons in turn, led them forth to 
the sacred soil of Bleeding Kansas, spotted them, so to speak, 
and went back after his cavalry. His breast swelled visibly as he 
began his peroration. Wes' leaned forward eagerly to drink in 
his wisdoms. 

"The first settlers of the South were largely of England's gentle 
blood, with a liberal sprinkling of Scotch and Scotch-Irish. To 
Georgia and the Carolinas came also thousands of the best blood 
of France — the Huguenots. There has been comparatively little 
immigration from Europe, but they have quickly extended their 
empire westward in a slower stream, parallel to, but distinct from, 
the more impetuous tide of Northern civilization. This stream 
is now overflowing from the Lone Star State, meeting here the 
more energetic branch as it pours through the Northern Gates 
and recoils from the Pacific. They cannot choose but mingle. 
The Long Trail is ended. This is the Last Frontier. Here, under 
the most favorable auspices, alike removed from the frozen North 
and the languid South, the blood of Puritan and Vavalier, Hugue- 
not and Conquistador, Blue and Gray, will merge at last into one 
unbroken tide. Who can say if the New Type here may not com- 
bine their differing ideals into something better than each or all? 
Will you coincide with me, Mr. Prindle?" 

Pringle hesitated, blank-eyed. "Why — I — " Then his face 
shone with pleased comprehension. "Yes, thank you, I don't care 
if I do." He rose briskly. 

The incredulous collegian eyed him with painful distrust. But 
Pringle's expression was so brightly innocent, so gravely matter- 
of-fact, that Billy dismissed suspicion as unworthy. His good 
heart sparing his unlettered companion the humiliation of enlighten- 
ment, he led the way. 

Returning, Pringle's gaze followed the winding contours of the 
Pass till they were lost in the mazy, blue-black hills above the 
Rim-rock. "Up there," he said, jerking his chin to indicate the 
direction of his thought, "up there, now, is your chance to behold 
them millenial the'rys of yourn in action. On Tip-top you may 
witness the hardy pioneers, no two from the same state prior 
(barrin' Texas, of course) lyin' together in social unanimity. You 
side me to Old Man Baker's manana. He's one of them very 
Pilgrim Grandsons, from that dear Wyandotte, Kansas. Come up 
and stay as long as you like. Besides observin' your fellow man 



It OUT WEST 

in the int'rests of science, there's bronc's to break, bear, deer and 
wild turkey a-plenty, and the round-up starts next week." 

Rainbow, looming gigantically in the deepening twilight, reiter- 
ated the invitation. "By George!" said Beebe with youthful en- 
thusiasm, "I'll go you ! Of course, I'll pay all expenses." 

"Of course," returned Pringle, severely, "that is the very only, 
one, identical, exact thing you precisely will not emphatically do. 

Once you leave the railroad, this country's pretty like the King- 
dom Come in one respect — it's easier for a camel to go through the 
knee of an idol than for a rich man to make good with certified 
checks. If you want to, you can pay for a buckboard to carry your 
buns, sleepin'-bags, kodaks and other saturnalias up to Baker's. 
You and me'll mosey up the trail on cross-saddles, the wagon road 
bein' some on the architect'ral plan of a twisted corkscrew. And 
you leave that there check-book of yourn behind, travellin' solely on 
your personal pulchritood and beauties of character. Subsidizin' 
any denizen of these woodland wilds would be interestin' indeed, but 
imprudent. The most lib'ral and gratooitous tippin' will not endear 
you to the poor but haughty mountaineer. He might like enough 
hold you up with a gun if it occurred to him fav'rable, but a tip 
he esteems degradin' — and resents as such; his ways of evincin' 
displeasure bein', moreover, versatile, hasty and surprisin'." 

"You spoke of your neighbors as being from many different sec- 
tions," said Billy. "Have they, in any measure, reconciled their 
political differences yet ?" 

"Not a bit !" Pringle shook his head in vigorous dissent. "All 
democrats." 

Billy gave way to mirth. 

"Of what section are you, yourself, Mr. Pringle ?" 

"I'm but a stranger here," said Pringle, pensively. "Heaven is 
my home. But if you want to pin me right down to particulars, you 
might say I was an American. In a way,, that's some narrer-con- 
tracted. Of course, I'm really part of all this here." He turned a 
friendly eye where the desert stars burned warm and near and won- 
derful, including them in comprehensive gesture. "And interested 
in all adjacent parts, like the old farmer who allowed he weren't no 
land-hog — all he wanted was just what j'ined his'n. An American. 
It's a good big word, as words go. Well, I got to write some letters 
and then go bye-bye. Good-night. We start in the mawnin'." 

Billy appeared in the morning canonically attired for roughing it, 
with careful observance of the best traditions of Naughty-Naughty. 
A flannel shirt, grandly, beautifully, riotously new-blue ; a gay ker- 
chief, knotted Byronically ; fringed flaunting buckskin gauntlets ; 
bright new double-decker belt and buttoned holster; riding-breeches 
of immaculate khaki ; be-laced leggings and dainty spurs ; the whole 



TOUCH OF NATURE. 7$ 

amazing edifice surmounted by a stiff, white sombrero, symmetrically 
dented. 

Pringle permitted himself one discreet glance, and mounted in 
silence. As they rounded the plasa he pricked a questioning thumb 
at the sombrero. 

"Catholic?" he asked, with lifting brows. 

"Catholic ?" echoed the Easterner, puzzled. "Me ? I don't under- 
stand." 

"Them four dints," explained his genial cicerone, "outlines a 
cross, and denotes that the incumbent is addicted to Orthodoxy, Con- 
servatism and other forms of inertia. If your sentiments is other- 
wise, you wear it creased down the middle, so-fashion." 

"I am to infer, then, that you are a Radical?" 

"We-ell, no — not exactly," said Pringle judicially. "You see, I 
got two hats. When I go to the county-seat, now, I wear the dinted 
one — and an extry gun." 

"I had no idea there was any significance in the fashion," said 
Beebe. 

"There's meanin' to most things — in this country at least. Chaps, 
taps, bridles and spurs all helps you place folks. If a man, not left- 
handed, coils his rope at the left side of his saddle-horn, he's a 
bronco-buster more'n a puncher. Center-fire saddle spells Califor- 
nia; double-cinch, Texas for choice. And if you wear a criminal 
negligee shirt" — he regarded the rim-rock with steadfast non-com- 
mittal eye — "it proclaims the — " 

"Tenderfoot?" interrupted Billy, flushing. 

"Well" — Pringle hesitated — "at least that you're from 'way east 
of any point due west of you." 

Billy reverted to politics. 

"You are a philosopher rather than a partisan, it seems," hinted 
the Conservative. 

"Once," said Pringle, "I cherished certain fallacies tremendous. 
Men was just two kinds. One side was scoundrels, traitors, bigots 
and hypocrites. T'other kind was all Heroes, Patriots, Martyrs and 
Reformers. Them last was my side. 'Twas a exhileratin', untrou- 
bled state of mind, but some transient and half wrong. Either half. 
Them tranquil and innocent days is long departed. I now say with 
the poet, 'I care not who makes the laws of a nation, so you let me 
name the Supreme Court.' Nigh fifty years old, I am. The words 
we use for praise or blame is just only denominators to me, and man 
is a fraction, complex and improper, with his numerators varyin' 
from day to day accordin' to his boots or digestion, weather, luck, 
temptation, need and opportunity. Which moderate judgements 
are not much shared by my neighbors on Tip-Top. They holds 
decided conclusions on all subjects, includin' each other, which they 



74 OUT W EST 

looks down on mootual as Kansas nesters, Texas outlaws or Kain- 
tucky aristocrats, and deports themselves accordin'." 

"Have they intermarried much?" queried Billy thoughtfully. 

"No woman has ever yet set foot in them peacefulprecincts," said 
Pringle. "You might put up a sign in the Gap, 'Who enters here 
leaves soap behind.' " 

"Ah !" said the vindicated theorist, much elated. "That explains 
it. Without the softening influence of womankind you cannot expect 
them to harmonize." 

"There is one subject," said Pringle, "on which their harmony is 
such as to drown all other noises. The East. The Effete East. The 
Robber East — with special animosities to New York, Tammany Hall 
and Wall Street. They likewise deplores and resents that dear 
Cleveland, Ohio, by reason she didn't change her name during the 
late eighties or early nineties." 

Billy reined up and fumbled at his saddle-bags. "Trick me no 
more, simple yeoman," he said, with a cheerful grin at the perfidious 
Pringle. "I perceive with sorrow that you are less fool than knave. 
I was a stranger and you took me in. The schoolman's sufficiency, 
that unaccountable self-esteem which departs not from the wayfaring 
man, though you bray him in a mortar, left me defenseless against 
your plausible imbecility. Nature has happily adapted you for the 
part. Let us coincide once more. I give you a toast. 'My ears! 
Long may they wave !' Drink, you untravelled yokel, drink !" 

Pringle twisted the flask cover. "I jine you in this here fraternal 
pledge without abatement of them previous warnin's. Them Rain- 
bow-chasers does sure cling to them aforesaid opinions, rabid. And 
I'm free to admit," he continued, reflectively, "that they urge them 
acrimonious convictions with that force and superfluency as 'twould 
surprise you, and a namin' of known facts not to be eluded. I 
shares them views myself, partial, and with mitigatin' circum- 
stances." He looked around apprehensively. 

"Can you keep a secret?" he demanded, in a cautious whisper. "I 
want to confide one of my youthful indiscretions to you. I was bom 
in New York, myself. But 'twas a long time ago, and I've always 
tried to lead a better life. Of course, I wouldn't want it to get out. 
If Baker knowed it, he'd likely bar me from the wagon." 

"What ! Don't you live at Baker's ?" 

"Me? Shucks, no. I live fif-teen consecutive miles further on." 

"Why!" gasped Billy, open-eyed. "You invited me up there! I 
naturally supposed — " 

Pringle hastened to reassure him. "That's all right, Billy. I 
can't just explain Rainbow to you, off-hand, but them actions of 
mine, when I says, 'Come along, son, 'la casa es suya', fits in with 
our ways of thinkin', and is, as you may say, o fay and O. K. I've 



A TOUCH OF NATURE. 75 

done presented you with the freedom of Rainbow. Bein' as Baker's 
got way the best house and trimmin's, you go there first, natural. 
The boys is good boys, spite of them triflin' eediosincrasies I men- 
tioned. They ain't really got no manners, but their hearts is located 
proper, and there ain't a selfish drop of blood in 'em. They'll show 
you a good time — a heap better time'n you could show them in civil- 
ized communities where an tn-vite is just airy pers'flage unless 
legibly endorsed by the wife or other head of the house, and is so 
treated. We have our faults in Rainbow and New York respective 
— but I've seen 'em both, and my opinion is like what the school boy 
said about brains — 'The cerebrum is composed of gray and black 
matter and the antebellum just the reverse.' We quit the road here 
and hit the cut-oflf." 

They zig-zagged the dizzy trail over High-roll, pausing at the 
top for a last view of the desert, down through the scraggly cedars, 
with a side-trip to see the river plunge through its rock-walled 
"Dalles" — a stupendous chasm, in whose sunless depths the Rain- 
bow foamed a thousand feet below. Then came the rolling pine- 
country, with intervening valleys and winding shaded trails, where 
presently, at a sudden bend, they encountered three brisk-jogging 
horsemen. 

The foremost got his horse back on his haunches, twisted in the 
saddle, and called gravely to his companions. 

" 'Toves,' " he announced, " 'Are something like lobsters — they're 
something like badgers — and they're something like corkscrews.' " 

"Ridin' with a roll ?" queried the second, pleasantly. 

Pringle held up a deprecatory hand. 

"Guest — hosts. Hosts — guest,' he said hastily. "Mr. William 
Beebe, of Cleveland, Ohio. Billy, the big, noisy, red-mustached 
gentleman is Wade Owens of old Kaintuck, known as Headlight; 
the bow-legged one is Aforesaid Nathaniel Smith, and the stubby 
patriarch bringin' up the rear is Baker himself. Speakin' of cork- 
screws — " 

Making libation, they gave Billy grave welcome to Rainbow. "We 
was goin' down to see the sights," said Aforesaid, with invidious 
intent. "But I reckon it ain't necessary, now. Back we go." 

The Rainbow-chasers proceeded to make Billy at home without 
delay, the rites of hospitality much on the lines followed by the 
famed Gridiron Club. Gleefully they fell upon him, jointly and 
severally, on the ground that he was a New Yorker, ignoring his 
protests that Cleveland was really not a suburb of the larger city. 
Gently, but firmly, they expressed their candid disapproval and 
renunciation of the East and all its works ; predatory wealth, banks 
and bankers, railroads, rebates, injunctions, trusts, Robber Tariff, 
campaign funds, life-insurance companies. Standard Oil, bribery, 



76 OUT WEST 

Pirates of Industry, High Finance, corners, stocks, bonds, brokers, 
and promoters; incidentally, the kindred subjects of golf, lobbies, 
graft, Christian Science, patent medicine, doctors, dukes, interna- 
tional marriages, divorce, snobocracy, Race Suicide, nature-fakirs, 
spats, Boston-terrier mustaches and hazing, football, strikes, yellow 
journals, sky-scrapers, slums, automobiles, climate, latitude and 
longitude. These last were minor grievances, however. Always the 
conversation circled back to the black sheep, the idle rich, the 
dishonest plutocrats, the iron heel of the oppressor grinding down 
the faces of the poor, while Pringle egged on both sides with dis- 
passionate impartiality. 

"Aw, stop chewin' the rag," he said at last. "Le's climb up on 
Thumb Butte to noon. Mr. Beebe can get the lay of the country 
from there. What time is it ?" 

"Eleven-thirty ; not quite," Headlight responded, squinting at the 
sun. 

"Eleven-twenty-five," announced Billy, snapping his watch. 

"My head is good as most people's watches," said the Kentuckian, 
in unguarded boasting. 

"Maybe that's the wheels," suggested Aforesaid, blandly. 

"Well, I ain't got no roulette wheels on the brain, anyhow," 
retorted Headlight promptly. 

"That's right, that's right. When honest men fall out, the rest of 
us gets a little peace. You side me, Billy. / ain't snuffin' over 
your tainted money," said Pringle kindly. "You can't help it." 

"We don't mean nothin' but a little fun, Mr. Beebe," said Baker. 
"Just putting you through the First Degree a lot. Not but these 
things is facts. You try this simple rough life awhile and you'll 
see how hopelessly wrong all these robber-rich looks to self-respect- 
ing toil. Your millionaires perpetrate outrages under cover of the 
law that honest hard-working men'd scorn to do." 

Cliff -walled on three sides. Thumb Butte commanded the whole 
Tip-top country. Unsaddling at its outmost verge, they hobbled the 
horses, and, in default of lunch, proceeded to explain the topog- 
raphy. 

Straight ahead, twenty miles off, was Baker's place, at the head 
of the main caiion. He gave the 13 brand, the Baker's Dozen. The 
N8 ranch was beyond the sugar-loaf "gyp" knoll, southward. "I'll 
take you over tomorrow," said Aforesaid. Owens lived closer by, 
in the rolling hills to the left of Rainbow River. The broken mesa 
beyond was Prairie Mountain ; the ridge between the forks was 
Rosebud. 

After creditable recitation on these primary points, Billy directed 
his field-glass to the adjacent N8 country and studied it attentively. 



A TOUCH OF NATURE. 77 

bringing his field of vision nearer till at last he was examining the 
foot-hills immediately below and to their right. 

"Hello! There's a man," he said. "I believe he's killed a deer. 
N<o — it's alive, whatever it is. No, not so far. There — don't you 
see?" 

"Let me look," said Baker. He took the glass. "Umph, deer! 
Yes — slow deer!" he said aciduously. "What do you make of it, 
Wade?" 

Headlight took a leisurely survey and passed the glass to Smith 
without comment. 

After a long look, Aforesaid sat down with his legs hanging over 
the cliff, rolling a cigarette with great composure. "It's Jim," he 
said, fishing for a match. "As near as I can make out, he's workin' 
over one of Baker's steers, convertin' the 13 into N8, brandin' 
through a wet blanket to make the new part look old. You know 
the steer. Headlight — that pieded straight-edge we brought off of 
Rosebud, that got away from the day-herders at Fresnal?" 

Headlight nodded. "I knowed the old moss-back quick as ever I 
laid eyes on him." 

"You see," continued Aforesaid, addressing Billy, "Jim, he was 
out of work and ridin' the chuck line. So I told him to lay up with 
me till he rustled a job, makin' himself useful. This is his idea of 
makin' himself useful. I warned him agin such, but he's so blame 
grateful. Look here, Baker, you don't think I was knowin' to this, 
do you?" 

"Not a minute! Re-brandin' known and named stuff like that 
isn't your style," said Baker pointedly. "You're more cautious. But 
your grateful Jim'll have to go. He's like too many of you Texas 
fellows — he ain't got no control of his loop. He thinks — " 

He stopped. Out of a timber-clump fronting the Butte, dashed 
a bunch of cattle. Two wild riders thundered after, down the steep, 
rocky slope. The foremost, with whirling loop, closed in, scattering 
the bellowing tail-enders. A swift cast of the rope ; the horse sat 
back on his haunches with bracing feet ; a long-eared yearling pitched 
and bawled in wild circling at the rope's end. The second horseman 
clattered by, urging the flying cattle with terrifying yells, oblivious 
of the interested spectators, a stone's-throw above. (A stone may 
be thrown very far — straight down.) 

"Magnificent!" said Beebe. "What superb horsemanship!" 

"Watch him throw and tie," advised Pringle. His tones were 
tremulous, his face rapturously beatific. Baker wore a dignified, 
disinterested air of far-off abstraction, quite disconnected with mere 
mundane affairs. The other two were wholly absorbed in sudden 
contemplation of Beebe's field-glasses. 

The yearling came to momentary pause ; the horse darted forward 



7« OUT WEST 

and the slack was deftly twitched so that the yearling "crossed" it. 
At the same moment the cow-pony planted himself; the rider was 
off, running swiftly, tugging at the "tie-string" around his waist 
as he ran. As the maverick executed a creditable somersault, the 
cowboy pounced on him, gathered the frenzy-beating feet together 
with a swoop of legs and arms, made a few quick passes, and rose. 
The captive was hog-tied ; the puncher threw off the choking neck- 
rope and began gathering sticks ; the maverick, madly threshing his 
head, bawled frantic terror and indignation. 

Down the hill a furious cow reappeared at this piteous outcry, 
prompted by maternal affection. The other puncher had turned 
back, whistling, coiling his rope as he came. Him she charged in a 
fine frenzy, head down, tail up, vociferous. Vainly he strove to turn 
her with shout and on-sweep. Her blood was up and she held the 
right of way. Slipping aside, he fell in behind her, drew up close 
beside. The circling rope poised rhythmically, swooped down over 
her withers in exact time with her plunging feet, whirling as it came ; 
the uplifted hand drew the noose tight, the pony swerved. "Fore- 
footed," the luckless avenger turned in air, lit on her side with a 
thump, and scrambled to her feet, gasping, but undaunted. Bellow- 
ing defiance, she lowered her head for the onset, but the rope tight- 
ened with a jerk and she was down again. This time she took the 
count. Meanwhile, the other man was starting his fire in fine uncon- 
cern. 

"What's that for ?" demanded Billy. "He'll hurt that cow. Why 
don't he tie her if he wants her, Mr. Baker?" 

Baker came out of his rhapsody, tried vainly to catch the Ken- 
tuckian's eye ; turned an imploring glance to Pringle, marked the 
dancing deviltry of his smile, and bowed his head in humble resigna- 
tion. Aforesaid rolled his eyes with an air of gentle melancholy. 
The Kentuckian fairly strutted, his face illumined with conscious 
virtue. It was Pringle who finally gave the desired information. 

"He don't want her, Billy. You see, that long-ear's her'n ; Head- 
light, he pays taxes on her, and them lynx-eyed toilers is in the 
^w-ploy of Mr. Baker, addin' to his frugal gains. Obvious, the idee 
is to break them fam-ly ties. She'll drift, presently, and her calf'll 
be an orphan-in-law. There she goes, now. They mostly can't 
stand more'n a couple o' falls." 

Billy eyed the stockmen with respectful admiration. "You people 
certainly take things easy," he ventured, obliquely. 

"When a poor man hurls his twine misappropriate,' 'observed 
Headlight, casually, "some folks is shocked and grieved horrible. 
Bein' well fixed themselves, they hires punchers to work their stock, 
and if any informal transactions like this comes to light, they claim 



A TOUCH OF NATURE. 79 

it was a mistake, or blame it on the hands. Now, if you'd caught me 
in such a caper — " 

More he would have said, but Pringle touched his shoulder and 
lightly motioned him to the left. Half a mile away, a mottled turmoil 
of swarming red-and-white broke from cover, hotly pursued by a 
Lilliputian horseman. Aforesaid made an eager snatch at the field- 
glass ; the drooping Baker rose, happily refreshed. 

Racing to windward of the dust, the horseman leaped off. An 
instantaneous smoke-puff — the bobbing streaks of color were in the 
timber before the faint report reached Billy's ears. Behind, a red- 
and-white spot lay quiet in the open. 

After painstaking scrutiny. Aforesaid twirled his mustache at a 
jaunty angle. Then, smiling sweetly, he held the glasses out to 
Headlight. 

"Have a peek, old-timer?" 

His eye was malicious. Headlight waved aside the proffered 
courtesy. Pringle's right hand shook his left in cordial glee. "The 
inhabitants of the Scilly Isles," he murmured, joyfully reminiscent, 
"who eke out a precarious livelihood by taking in each other's wash- 
mg. 

"Well ?" said Baker, hopefully. 

Aforesaid turned to Billy. "That was Charlie Gaylord, Headlight's 
nephew," he explained, with much deliberation. "The Louisville 
Gaylords, you know. One of the First Families of Kaintuck." He 
cut off a liberal chew of tobacco, stowed it in his cheek, and offered 
the plug to Headlight. "The beef was mine," he added, as an after- 
thought, 

"Maybe he shot the wrong one," suggested Billy. "They were 
running very fast." 

Hearing his kinsman thus maligned. Headlight made to his 
defense. 

"Miss a beef at fifty yards !" he snorted. "I'd disown him !" 

Billy reflected, chin in hand. 

"What a charm there is in this free and simple life !" he mused. 
"How the hearty, whole-souled, hardworking cattle-man, breezy, 
open-and-above-board, puts to shame the indirection, fraud and 
heartless greed of the market-place. The contrast between the pure, 
sweet mountain air and the reek of the crowded cities is not greater 
than that between the frank, straightforward manners of honest 
toil with the feverish frenzy of brazen commercial avarice, that 
tramples on human rights and gr-r-rinds the faces of the poor." 

The three reformers sat down, their backs to Billy and to each 
other, and absorbed themselves in their respective sections of scenery. 
Below, grateful Jim had released the light token of his regard, and 
jogged peacefully toward the spot where the Baker's Dozen men 



8« OUT WEST 

were putting the finishing touches on the maverick. On the left, 
the LouisvilHan bent, industrious, to his work. 

Billy resumed. 

"I have often observed that most reformers lack in practical grasp 
of affairs. In your case, however, zeal for righteousness seems to 
go hand-in-hand with foresight, thrift and enterprise." 

No answer. 

"It seems a pity, though, that gifts like yours should be denied the 
larger opportunity they deserve. Such abilities should have room to 
develop. Your talents would shine with added lustre in a larger 
field— say in Wall Street !" 

They humped their shoulders up and took it meekly. 

"Far be it from me to criticize," said Billy, mildly. "And yet, 
with all your undoubted business qualifications, you could benefit 
by adopting some of our modern methods. For instance, an appli- 
cation of the clearing-house idea to your industries would have sim- 
plified today's operations to a merely clerical matter, thus greatly 
reducing your expenses." 

"Them fellows ain't never looked up once," muttered Baker, with 
concentrated bitterness. "They let us in for this — the damn careless 
scoundrels. Boys, le's throw a scare into 'em !" 

Pop! Bang! Bangbang! Three forty-fives came into simulta- 
neous action. Bewildering echoes multiplied the crashing volleys to 
a continuous fusillade. 

Scurry of swift color, popping of underbrush; the cowboys van- 
ished, remorseful. Crash of breaking boughs, dim-hurling shapes 
brief-glimpsed through the tree-tops ; beyond, a little valley. "They'll 
meet I They'll meet !" shouted Baker, dancing in truculent ecstacy. 
"Burn the breeze, ye sons of Zeruiah !" 

They burst into the valley together. Desperately wheeling 
through billowing clouds of dust, red-pierced by spitting fire-flashes, 
they passed on, each, by tacit agreement, on a different tangent. 
The forest swallowed them in its green depths; unbroken silence 
and peace closed again on that fair and sunny wilderness. On 
Thumb Butte the battle-smoke hung motionless. 

Pringle buried his face in his hands, rocking wildly. "Oh, if my 
poor mother could only see me now !" he groaned. 

"Them misguided wretches'll pursue them several routes till they 
meet salt water," remarked Aforesaid, awe-struck. 

"As a practical suggestion, in the interests of economy and equity," 
said Billy, "hadn't we better all go down and skin Mr. Owen's 
beef? Mr. Gaylord, I see, has gone away." 

"What! And compound a felony?" Pringle began. 

Headlight rose. "John Wesley," he said firmly, "one word from 
you — or if you ever seem to look as if you might possibly want to 
like to say something — and we put the leggin's onto you. Mr. 
Beebe, you're entitled to rub it in if you want to, 'count of us giving 
up all that head this forenoon. But, if you'd just as soon — as a 
matter of sparin' our feelin's — you just give us one good hard kick 
all 'round and call it square." He looked over his shoulder plead- 
ingly. "Can't you, now?" 

Apalachin, N. Y. 



8i 




SANGER. CALIFORNIA 

By W. M. BARR. 

HEN M. J. Church, in 1868, brought a band of 2000 sheep from 

Napa City in to the valley of Kings River, where they found 

abundant feed that year, he little thought that he was laying 

the foundation for one of the greatest irrigation enterprises 

in America; and yet within two miles of where Mr. Church 

first pitched camp, about five miles northeast of the thriving 

towi^ of Sanger, Fresno County, Cal., is now the head of an irrigation system 

covering over 400,000 acres of rich fertile valley land. 

The productive river-bottom along Kings River furnished forage for thou- 
sands of cattle, in an early day during the whole of the year, while the broad 
valley extending from the Sierra Nevada on the east to the foot-hills of the 
Coast Range on the west was one vast grazing ground during the winter 
months, showing what the land would do if supplied with sufficient water. 
During the summer months this broad valley became a veritable desert, a 
section of country to be avoided, the idea prevailing that it would never be 
fit for habitation by white men. 

It is not the object of this article to enter into a recital of the trials and 
tribulations of the first irrigationists, of the opi>osition from the stock-men> 
personal encounters, night raids, warnings to leave and the' like. These are 
matters of history, and all went to make up a part of the annals of Fresno 
County, now known the world over as the greatest producer of the grape, 
the peach and the orange of any section in this broad, productive land ot 
ours. 

In 1886 an occasional orchard or vineyard broke the monotony of the im- 
mense grain fields lying along the eastern part of the San Joaquin Valley 
adjacent to Kings River. In the spring of that year the Southern Pacific 
Company, looking into the future and seeing in this tract of fertile country 
a source of great wealth and productiveness, determined to bring it within 




Picking Oranges Near Sanger 




Q 

w 
> 

M 
Pi 



SANGER, CAL. 83 

reach of their lines of transportation. Surveys were accordingly made, land 
secured and town-sites laid oyt. Fifteen miles east of the City of Fresno 
was laid out what was then termed Sanger Junction. Since that time the 
"Junction" has been dropped and the town is known as Sanger. 

In the Spring of 1888 the first sale of t;pwn-lots was held by the Pacific 
Improvement Company, which owned the town-site. The town had a phe- 
nomenal growth from its start, and it was not long before Sanger was recog- 
nized as one of the important places in Fresno Couoty. 

Something of the growth of the town may be judged from the fact that 
during 1890 more than 75 buildings were erected. During this year the 
Kings River Lumber Company completed a flume, said to be the longest of 
its kind in the world, for the shipment of lumber from the high Sierras to 
tlie railroad for shipment to all parts of the world. The completion of this 
great enterprise was marked by an immense celebration and barbecue, to 
which 2500 people came from all parts of the country. This plant is now 
owned by a wealthy company, lately from the East, known as the Hume^ 
Bennett Lumber Company. The annual output of lumber is about twenty 
million feet, all of which is floated down fifty miles of flume, loaded on the 
cars at Sanger and shipped to all parts of the world, even as far as Australia. 
Australia. 

Many of our Eastern friends will be amazed at the statement that it is 
not uncommon for this company to fell and cut into lumber logs from ten 
to twenty feet in diameter and one hundred to one hundred and fifty feet in 
length, yet the writer has seen many just such logs as these made into lumber 
and floated down this flume to Sanger. 

During the hard times from 1893 to 1898, Sanger, in sympathy with all 
other 'places, was at a standstill. There appeared to be no money in the 
country, farm products were hardly bringing the cost of production, and 
everybody was what is commonly terrtied "hard up." But a change came 
gradually creeping over the land — first a creep, then a walk, then a run, 
until now behold the difference ! ' 

At the present time Sanger has within her confines a grammar school as 
good as any in the State, employing eight teachers, occupying two buildings ; 
a fine high school, with all modern improvements, employing five teachers ; 
seven churches, two newspapers, two resident physicians (we don't have much 
use for a doctor here), no attorneys (for we are a peaceable people). The 
Masons, Odd Fellows, Woodmen of the World, Modern Woodmen, with 
their corresponding women's organizations, the Independent Order of For- 
esters, the Fraternal Brotherhood and the Eagles are all represented here. 
A good opera house furnishes ample room for amusements or public meet- 
ings. A bank with $25,000 capital and $7000 surplus and reserve, carefully 
and honestly managed, is fully equipped to meet ail demands made upon it 
consistent with gook banking. Two grain-warehouses furnish ample means 
for the storage and handling of our cereal crops, while six different pack- 
ing-houses and firms handle our varied fruit crops. These various fruit- 
packing houses give employment almost continuously to men, women and 
girls who wish to follow that line of work. Commencing in November with 
oranges and lemons, which extend to May, then follow in succession such 
green fruits as apricots, peaches, grapes and later the same varieties dried, 
running into the orange seascm again for the next year. All lines of mer^ 
chandise are well represented, all seem to be doing a good, profitable busi- 
ness, and it is doubtful if one could be induced to sell at what might be 
termed a fair price. 

It is felt that there is a good opening here for a first-class, up-to-date de- 
partment or general-merchandise store. The Hume-Bennett Lumber Com- 
pany employs from seventy-five to one hundred and fifty men at various sea- 
sons of the year at their mills in Sanger, and from four hundred to five 
hundred hands at their immense saw mills in the mountains, fifty miles east 
of Sanger, 




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SANGER, CAL. 85 

With all these natural advantages, and all in their infancy, young and 
growing, we feel that it would be difhcult to find a safer, more profitable or 
more desirable place for the man with capital to invest, for the man of 
moderate means to gain a competence and educate his children, or the labor- 
ing man to sell his labor and gain a permanent foothold. 

The question to the man looking for an investment, either of hundreds 
or thousands of dollars, naturally is, "what will it all cost and what can 1 
get for my money? If I buy unimproved land, how long before it will bear 
fruit? and what or how much will it produce?" Now, in making these esti- 
mates and statements, the writer will try and give only such facts and figures 
as he knows are true and of practical value. 

Unimproved land will cost at the present time from $50 to $ico per acre, 
depending on the quality and location — and let me here say that the lowest 
priced land is not always the cheapest. You must have a water-right 
located, or bore a well and pump water. 

A water-right, which is perpetual and is only paid for once, will cost $5 
per acre, and is bought from the Canal Company which controls all the water 
about Sanger, and is the cheapest known form of irrigation. An annual 
rental thereafter of 62^ cents per acre is paid, this charge being regulated 
by the Board pf Supervisors of the County. Your land must then be leveled 
or graded so that it can readily be irrigated. This may cost from $3 to $25 
per acre, depending on the unevenness of the surface. About $10 would be 
an average price. About 100 trees or 500 vines are required per acre, the 
trees costing from $8 to $15 per hundred, and vines from $7 to $12 per 
thousand. Orange or lemon trees range from $50 to $75, occasionally reach- 
ing $100 per hundred. Vines will begin to bear the third year from setting, 
and trees the fourth year. Now, how much can you expect to get? Let 
me give you some figures, and upon request most of the names of the parties 
referred to can be given : 

A young man bought twenty acres three miles south of Sanger in Jan- 
uary, set to pears, peaches and apricots, for $2500, partly on time ; in July 
of the same year he sold the crop on the trees, without the expense of har- 
vesting, for $2400. 

A man three miles northeast of Sanger set a vineyard of wine grapes on 
a part of his land. When these vines were eighteen months old from setting 
the writer paid him at the rate of $46 per acre, delivered in Sanger. At 
two and one-half years old, he paid $93 per acre; at three and one-half years 
old, $112, 

Another party reports $720 from 150 peach trees; another $1075 from two 
and one-half acres; another $895 from 120 trees; another $450 from forty 
trees ; still another $400 per acre from table grapes, sold on the vines. This 
present year one rancher (for an owner of a five-acre patch is a rancher 
here) has been offered $1500 for the fruit of 1400 trees, on the trees free of 
all cost for harvesting. 

Can you get these prices all the time? No! Don't think of it. They have 
been received and might be again, but they are unusual and not safe to 
count on. 

Let us take what might be termed a safe, fair estimate : There is good 
money in raisins at 3^2 cents per pound, a good yield being one ton per acre. 
At 7 cents to 8 cents per pound for dried fruit, a man can net $75 per acre 
in an ordinary year. 

An industrious man will find ample opportunity to work any time not re- 
quired on his own place, for his neighbors, and while his trees and vines 
are coming into bearing summer crops such as Egyptian corn, potatoes, 
melons or beans can be grown between the rows of trees. 

Our climate is dry, warm and healthy, and yet we live in sight of per- 
petual snow on the high Sierras to the east of us. Our nights are always 
cool — no high winds, thunder storms nor cyclones. 

To the Easterner wishing to better his condition, provide future homes 
for his children and have all the advantages named, we say. Come to Sanger, 
investigate for yourself, for in so doing we believe you will become one 
of us. 

Don't think this can all be gained without work, and honest, hard word, 
but we do say that nowhere on earth will honest effort intelligently put 
forth and directed yield larger and more satisfactory and ready returns than 
in the vicinity of Sanger, Fresno County, California. 




The Only Suitable 
Porch Covering 



In (leMlKuinK nnti arrnnKlne the inoilern home, iiiuoh 

cure aiitl attention is jclven to the iM»roh ^vbieh niuMt be 

iiM eony nnd invilini;; ait any part of the interior. 

JhlK IM true eMpeelnlly at this nenMon ^vhen you niisht nay 

people live outdoors — all rooms liave been thoroughly reno- 

vateil. the heavy hot ilraperleM and eurpetM removed, and a freiih, 

eo«»l and InvitinK atmowpliere prevadeM the home by eoverinip ail 

the floors >vith 

CREX CARPETS AND RUGS 

In eontrast ^vith thene Interif>r deeorations and In perfeet harmony with the natural 
outdoor MurroundiuKM CKEX fiRASS RltiS are the only MUitable eoverluK tor the poreh. 
Nature deslKued fllKX for this Npeolfle purpose. It Klves a soft, restful and refrecibinK 
lone. alYordN a Arm quiet footing and resists the elfeets of all >veather. You ean get solid 
comfort livinK on C'RKX. (AKI'KTS in ail ^vidtbs — plain and striped. RL'GS In a large 
variety of designs and sixes. 

Avoid imitations: Look for the O^EJ^ trademark 

For sale at all up-to-date Department, Furniture and Carpet Stores 
AMP:ri<'a\ f;RASS TWIMO tl<)>II»A\V 377 Broadway, Xew York City 





Mathie««« 



RED RIBBON BEER 

CONFORMS to the PURE FOOD LAW 

'T'HE Mathie Brewing Company offer $ 1 OOO 
for any one to prove that their beers in Purity and 
Quality are not the purest brewed. ^ Do you know 
that beer contains only about 3| p>er cent of alcohol ? 
Beer is liquid bread — is the German saying. Used 
moderately, beer is not an intoxicant and is the purest of 
popular drinks. The best temperance drink is beer. 
Physicians prescribe beer for the weak as it makes strength. 
Beer ranks with milk as a blood and strength producer 
and contains little alcohol. ^ Our beers are sold in quarts 
and pints. Why not try a case ? 



Home Cx. 942 



TCLCPMONCS: 



Sunset East 66 



Out West Magazine Company 

CHAS. F. LUMMIS, President W. S. DINSMORE, Treasurer 

C. A. MOODY, Vice-President aud General Manager A. E. KEMP, Secretary 

F. W. WORCESTER, Business Manager 

PUBLISHERS OF 

OUT WEST 



Edited by 



j CHAS. F. LUMMIS 

\ CHARLES AM A DON MOODY 



Entered at the Los Angeles Postofflce as Second-class Matter. 



>\ <-l-«rc»vtiei v^n' l^z^fAs ^'^^ ^^ cheerfully furnished on application. Special dis- 

.^^.ClVt?ril&ing Kaies . . counts allowed on 3, 6 and 12 month contracts. Rates 
of cover-pages and other preferred spaces (when available) will be named on application. 
The publishers reserve the right to decline any advertising not considered desirable. 

Size of column 2^x8 inches — two columns to the page. Last advertising form closes on 
the 15th of month preceding date of issue. Advertisers are earnestly requested to instruct 
as early as the 5th whenever possible. ^ 

^11 V»«r^««i«-»ti^»> P«-i^«» $2.00 a year delivered post-free to any point In the 

^VXXJSd ipiiun X riC^t? . . united States, Canada, Cuba or Mexico. $2.75 a year to 
any other country. 

All manuscript, and other matter requiring the attention of the editor, should be 
addressed to him. All letters about subscriptions, advertising or other business, should be 
addressed 

OUT WEST MAGAZINE COMPANY, Los Angeles, Califofnia 



United States 

Post Oxrice Money Orders 
ana Government Bonds 

A.re bought largely for SA.FEXY. Building ana Loan A.ssociation stock is 
tougkt xox tke same reason — SAFETY — and also because it pays a kiglier rate or 
interest. 

ine Continental Building and Loan 
Association 

pays 6 per cent net per annum, payable semi-annually. 
WASHINGTON T>ODGE. President WILLIAM CORBIN. Secretary 

MARKET ^ CHURCH STS., SAN FRANCISCO, CALIF. 



RamonaToilet 3oap 



FOR 3 ALE 
EVERYV^H ERE 



OF FIVE ACRES 
AND UPWARDS 

in the Counties of 

Fresno and Merced 
California 

MILLER AND LUX 

Los Banost Merced County 
CaUfornia 



FOR THE 



INDIANS 



The Sequoya League 



is aiding the Mission Indians not only 
by remedying abuses and trying to 
get them better lands, but also by ex- 
tending the market for their BAS- 
KETS. 

A representative collection is on 
sal*, for the benefit of the Campo re- 
servations, at reasonable prices and 
fully authenticated. These baskets 
can be had of 

Mrs* Chas* F* Lummis 

200 Avenue 42, Los Angeles, Cal. 
60 Additional Baskets, of Much Var- 
iety, Receuitly Received. 
Prices, $2 to $10 

THE MONEY GOES TO THE 
INDIANS 




Silver that 

Gives 

Lasting 
Satisfaction 

The pleasure that is 
taken in the relined 
lines ot beauty and 
dignilied designs, the 
assurance ol worth and 
long wear which is given 
by the trade-mark 

"J847 ROGERS BROS 

place this ware on a higher plane 
than ordinary silver plate. Reputa- 
tion lor long wear has won lor it the title 

"Siher Plate that Wears. " 

Sold by leading dealers everywhere. Send lor 
catalogue '*U-39" showing latest patterns. 

MEJtIDEN BRITANNIA CO., Memkn. Com. 

(Internatloual Silver Co., Successor.) 
i/eri(im Silver PuUsh, the " Stiver Polish that Cleans.' 



BB:AcffiK^soiirr) 

I'^f^^ )) 

r^ Plan to Spend Your 
Vacation Here 

MOST delightful spot in 
the world. On Santa Bar- 
bara Channel surf is safe. Auto- 
mobiling fine. Mountains and 
Canyons close by. Everything 
wanted for a quiet, healthful, 
joyful outing is here at low cost. 

Special Rates at 
Hotel or Tent 
City... 

^ Ideal accommodations atquaint 
Pizmo Inn or Comfortable 
Tent City, 




^iS 



Ask anuSouthern Pacific agent about 
trains and excursion Tickets 



I £1 Pizmo Beach Resort 

I E.L PIZMO. CAL. 

I Or 3 1 9 Douglas Bldg., Lot Angdes. Cal. 




Help— All Kinds. See Hummel Bros. & Co., 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 



Pon-Setta 

Cream 

A FACE ENAMEL 

Prevents SUNBURN 

and FRECKLES 

All Drussists SOc 




Hyacinth 

Cream 

AN IDEAL 
SKIN FOOD 

All Drussists 25c 




MADE BY ANITA CREAM & TOILET CO. 

LOS ANGELES, CAL. Mail Orders Promptly Filled 



DO YOU KNOW WHY? 

The HARRIETT S. Gold Minmg Co.'s 
Stock is a Good Purchase 

Because the location of their property is immedi- 
ately adjoining and an extension of the famous 
Lucille Mine which has absolutely proven by its de- 
velopment work that they have a dividend paying 
mine and as a matter of fadt the best looking mine 
in Southern Nevada or California, also a body of 
ore over 40 feet in width. Q Because their surface 
showings are identical with those of our fortunate 
neighbor and the Harriett S. property has all the 
earmarks of making a large and successful mine like 
the adjoining property. ^ Because its stock is now 
low in price and within the reach of the smallest 
investor. ^ Because its psesent and future manage- 
ment is and will be men of efficiency, integrity and 
ability. ^ Because opportunity presents itself to 
every man but once and this is your opportunity. 
^ Because you can purchase this stock now at 1 3 
cents per sha'e and you certainly will make a hand- 
some profit at this price. 

Let U8 talk with you and convince yon on this 
proposition 

American Securities Co. 

303 Lankershim Bldg. 

Los Angeles, Cal. 



Designing 
Engraving 
Printing 



We Print the 
OUT WEST 
MAGAZINE 



Estimates 
Promptly 
Furnished 



WM. WOLFER 



A. M. DUNN 





Commercial, Book and Catalogue 

Printing and Binding 



837 So. Spring Street, Los Angeles 



Hummel Bros. & Co. furnish best help. 116-118 E. Second. 




An Absolutely Non-Carbonizing Oil 

Zerolene, the new non-carbonizing oil, ends all the troubles of carbon and 
friction in gasoline engine lubrication. Gives perfect lubrication in any gaso- 
line engine, regardless of type. This oil is produced in only one place. 



lEROLENE 



Auto- 
Lubricating 



OIL 



leaves practically no carbon deposit. Completely eliminates all trouble from choked 
up spark plugs and "works" with absolute uniformity under all conditions. Put up in 
sealed cans with patent spout that prevents can being refilled. Remember the label 
shown in cut, anci the non-refilling feature which prevents substitution of inferior oils. 
Zkrolene is also put up in barrels for tlie garage trade. Sold by dealers everywhere. 

STANDARD OIL COMPANY 

(Incorporated) 



BEKINS VAN & STORAGE CO. ^^l^rclT;?; 

Reduced Rates to and From all Points 

140 South Broadway, Los Angeles OFFICES' ^^ First National Bank Bldg., Chicago 
1060 Broadway . . . Oakland =^^=^=^:==^= 13th and Mission St., San Francisco 




HOME /8/ 
MAIN 8666 



KODAKS 




Sunny- 
vale... 

California 



One of the Many Factories 

Climatic conditions, location and shipping facilities Insure great manufacturing 
center; a dozen concerns now operating with pay-rolls at $12,000 per week. Best 
for cherries, prunes, other fruits, berries, nuts and vegetables in the world-famed 
Santa Clara valley — five to ten-acre tracts sufficient; 50 Southern Pacific trains 
daily, 3 miles from San Francisco bay and deep water; south from San Francisco 
38 miles. Write Sunnyvale Chamber of Commerce for Handsome Illustrated 
booklet, free. R. B. Cherington, Sec. or to 

Snnnyvale Realty & Inveatment Co.; J. P. Brown Realty Co.; A. J. Withycombe, Ryan 
Hotels Max Wilhelniy, Dellcntennen Store; C. H. Woodhamn, Furniture and Harness; 
Geo. D. Huston, Contractor and Builder; W. J. Vandricit. Sunnyvale Hotel; Smith Bros., 
Grocers; F. E. Cornell, Postmaster; Rudolph Muenders; Hrdro-Carbon Companies; Ralph 
H. Tomasco, DruKsist; Geo. E. Booker, Fuel and Hay. 




Fac-simile 
of Gold Medal 
Won at 
Lewis & 
Clark 
Exposition 
Portland, 1S05 




Germain's Famous 



GOLD MEDAL WINES 



wholesome, so perfect in 
as to receive the highest 



Wines so pure and 
flavor and maturity 

honors at many International expositions, including 
Paris, Buffalo, St. Louis, Portland and the recent 
Jamestown Centennial Exposition. Every bottle 
sold with a positive guarantee of age and purity. 
None less than twenty years old, many are thirty. 
If you want wines of surpassing quality, try the 
Gold Medal brand. Order direct from the 
distributors. -:- . -:- -:- -:- -:- 



WE PAV PREIGMTTO ANV R. R. 
POINT IN U. S. ON CASE LOTS 



We make a specialty of Eastern shipments and will box free of charge 
and prepay freight to any point in the United States on all orders for 
two or more cases. -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- 



Gold Medal Port 



Per case, $ 1 6.00 



Gold Meda Sherry Per case, $16.00 



Gold Medal Muscatel 



Per case. $ 1 6.00 



Gold Medal Angelica 



Per case. $16.00 



63S SxnjUh TTUUfiiSyt. 

t10MEEX-9l9 JUNJET MAIN 919 

LOS ANGCLCS, CALIPORINIA 



Bailey's Rubber Complexion 
Brushes ^ Massage Rollers 

Make. Keep and Restore Beauty in Nature's own way 




FLAT-ENDED TEETH 



with circular biting edges that remove dust caps, 
cleanse the skin in the bath, open the pores, and give 
new life to the whole body. Bailey's Rubber 
Brushes are all made this way. Mailed for price. 
Beware of imitationi. At all dealers. 
Bailey's Rubber Complexion Brush . . $ .50 
Bailey's Rubber Massage Roller . . . .50 

Bailey's Bath and Shampoo Brush . . .75 

Bailey's Rubber Bath and Flesh Brush . 1.50 

Bailey's Rubber Toilet Brush (small) . .25 

Bailey's Skin Food (large jar) .50 

Dailey*s 

Won't Slip 
TIP 

This tip won't slip on 
ANY SURFACE, en 
smooth ice. or mar the 
most highly polished 
floor. Made in five 
sizes, internal diameter: 
No. 17, %in.;No. 18, »4 
in.; No. 19. ^s in.; No. 
20, lin.; No. 21. IV^ in. 
Mailed upon receipt of 
price, 30c. per pair. 
Agents wafted. 

100 Page Hui' r ( , „yue Free. 

C. J. BAILEY & CO.. 22 Boylatan St., BOSTON. Mass. 




LEADING HOTELS 
THE COAST 



of 



HOTEL REDONDO, Redondo, Cal. 
18 miles from Los Angeles, at Redondo-by- 
the-sea. "The Queen of the Pacific." Open 
all the year; even climate. 



APARTMENTS, Los Angeles 
fully furnished, new, 3 rooms, gas, range, hot 
water, bath, telephone, $14.00 monthly. T. 
Wiesendangcr, Room 3 1 1 . 207 South Broadway, 
Los Angeles. 



HOTEL PLEASANTON 
Los Angeles, California 

New, modern, American plan family hotel. Hot 
and cold water, telephone, and steam heat in every 
room. Rates, $10.00 to $16.00 week. 
1 120 So. Grand Ave. E. R. PARMELEE 



p. 1 L 4 ^ 



\m 



The 

Jar for Whole 

Fruit 

The wide-mouth jar is the only 
jar to use. It permits the pre- 
serving of both large and small 
fruits ivhole. You need only the 
one kind of jar for all your pre- 
serving. The wide-mouth jar is 
easier cleaned — easier to remove 
contents from. 

ATLAS 

E. Z. Seal Jar 

(Lightning trimmings) 



is a wide-mouth jar. Made of strong, 
tough glass. Mouth of the jar is smooth. 
No danger of cutting the hands. 

To be sure of these features, to be sure 
of the most perfect jar made, ask for the 
ATLAS jar. The 

ATLAS Special Mason 

is an extra wide-mouth jar with screw 
cap — like illustration. Remember the 
name Atlas when buying any kind of jar. 
Atlas means quality. "Mason" simply 
refers to one particular style of jar. 

If your dealer cannot supply these jars, send 
us $3, and we will express prepaid thirty (30) 
quart size Atlas Spkcial Wide-Mouth Jars 
to any town having an office of the Adams or 
U. S. Express Co., within the States of Penn- 
sylvania, New Jersey, New York, Delaware, 
Maryland, Virginia, West Virginia, Ohio, 
Illinois, Indiana, or Michigan, or we will 
quote delivery prices iu other portions of the 
United States by freight or express. 

A Book of Preserving: Recipes.- 

Sent free to every woman wlio Rends us the name of 
her grocer, stating it be sells Atlas jars. 

HAZEL-ATLAS GLASS CO., Wheeling, W. Va. 



$2,000 for Short Stories 



Sunset is in the field for short stories — the best short stories of 
western out-of-door life that can be written. The attention of all 
writers is called to this announcement, which means that between 
this date and July 31 cash prizes amounting- to $2,000 will be paid for 
fifteen stories of the character desired. This amount will be divided 
into the following prizes : 

First prize, $500; second prize, $250; third prize, $200; 

fourth and fifth prizes, $ 1 50 each; five stories at 

$ 1 00 each; five stories at $50 each 

The only limitations put upon writers are that the manuscripts 
shall run between three thousand and eight thousand words ; that they 
shall relate in some manner to the country west of the Mississippi 
river, or to any locality north of the equator in lands washed by the 
Pacific, although preference will be given those relating to the West- 
ern states. They must all relate to the out-of-doors and be buoyant, 
cheerful and hopeful. 

All stories should reach this office not later than July 31, and 
prize winners will be announced in the October number. The author's 
name and address' should not be attached to the manuscript, but 
should be submitted in a separate sealed envelope which should simply 
bear the title of the story. The stories will be passed upon by three 
readers, all of them independent of the editorial stafif. All manuscripts 
not receiving prizes, or purchased independently, will be returned at 
the close of the competition, providing stamps for such return are 
enclosed. All should be typewritten, and should be plainly addressed : 

SHORT STORY CONTEST 

Sunset Magazine San Francisco, Cal. 



ERMAR 

CALIFORNIA - 



INO 




IN THE SAN BERNARDINO MOUNTAINS 

'T'HIS City is situated in a valley of great fertility, while the scenic beauties are unex- 
celled. Three transcontinental railroads enter the city and trolley lines lead to the 
mountains amd to adjacent townns and communities. Here axe located the great Samta Fe 
railroad shops, employing more than one thousand men, with a pay-roll amounting to $ 1 00,000 
per month. The business men of the city very largely furnish the vast supplies for the min- 
ing districts in other parts of the county. ^ Arrowhead Hotel, Arrowhead Hot Springs, 
California, is easily reached by any train to San Bernardino, thence by trolley car direct to 
Arrowhead Hotel. ^ First class schools, public library and churches of nearly all denom- 
nationf. ^ For Booklet and Further Information, Address 

SECRETARY BOARD OF TRADE, SAN BERNARDINO, CAL. 

or any of the following leading business firms: 



Arrowhead Hotel 
David R. Glass, Business College 
Insurance, Loan and Land Company 
W. L. Vestal, Iniurance and Real Elstate 
Miller- McKenney-Lightfoot Company, Real Els- 
tate Brokers 



Stewart Hotel 
California State Bank 

iones Bros., Kodak Supplies 
)raper & Dubbell, Real Elstate, Insurance and 

Loans 
San Bernardino Realty Board 




Maier Brewing Company's 

**Select" Beer 



XJOTED 

-••^ Purity 



for its Age, 
and Strength. 
AU shipments by bottles or 
kegs promptly filled. Family 
trade a specialty. :: :: :: 



; OFFICE AND BREWERY 



440 Aliso Street, Los Angeles 

BOTH PHONES: Exchange 91 




San Diego 



Calif 



ornia 



AMERICA'S FIRST 
PORT OF CALL 
ON THE PACIFIC 

San Diego Has 

The best climate in the world 
The best water supply in the west 
The best harbor on the Pacific Ocean 
The ideal site for a home 



The Culgoa, one of the Evans Fleet loading supplies in San Diego Harbor. 



For information address JOHN S. MILLS, Sec. Chamber of Commerce, or any of the following: 



First National Bank 

J. O. Lendahl, Real Estate 

Fred'k E}nni«it <& Co., Real E^state 

O'Neall & Moody, Real Estate 

South San Diego Inv. Co. 

Southern Trust and Savings Bank 

H. Lynnell, Furniture 

Pacilic Furn. & Show Case Mfg. Co. 

Star Theatre 

Homeland Improvement Co. 



Cottage Realty Co. 

Gunn & Jasper, Real Estate 

Ralston Realty Co. 

M. Hall, Real Estate 

J. W. Master, Patent Broker 

Halsey-Firman Inv. Co. 

Star Builders' "Supply Co. 

Aetna Securities Co. 

J. A. Jackson, Real Estate 




Sanger 

CALIFORNIA 
Fresno County 



%»y^J 



Ihe Lumber City 
The Fruit City 



T' 



actual record we have 255 clear sunshiny days in the year, 
of the following : 



HE Home of the Orange, 
Grape and Peach. Cli- 
matically — the very best. By 
Before locating visit this section or write to any 



Campbell <& Root, Real Estate 
Sanger State Bank 

Kings River Stage & Transportation Co. 
D. H. LatEerty, Grand Hotel & Res- 
taurant 
Commercial Hotel, P. L. White, Prop. 
T. C. Mix, Hotel de France 
A. B. Carlisle, Sierra Hotel 
Hume-Bennett Lumber Co. 



J. M. Morrow, Real Estate 

W. D. Mitchell, Sanger Market 

D. H. Babbe, Real Estate and Li 

Stock of all kinds. 
T. O. Finstermaker, Sanger Bakery 
P. J. Pierce, Hay and Grain 
F. H. Merchant, General Merchandise 
M. W. Bacon, Sanger Transfer 
J. N. Lisle, Furniture and Stoves 



ANYVO THEATRICAL COLD CREAM 



prevents early -wrinkles. It is not a freckle coating- ; it r©> 
moves them. ANYVO CO.. 427 North Main St., Los Anffelea 





UPLAND 




I 



Busines.- .iiy, which lies in center of the great 

San Bernardino and Pomona Valley, 4 miles east of Los Angeles, traversed by 
Santa Fe, Salt Lake and S. P. Railroads. Upland is the north two-thirds of the 
Colony, greatly prosperous from its splendid orange and lemon groves. At its 
many packing houses many people are employed on pay-rolls that aggregate many 
thousand dollars annually contributing to the great prosperity of its banks and 
business houses of every kind, and contributing to the rapid growth of the town. 
With Cucamonga and the greater part of Ontario Colony tributary to its business 
and roc.IaI llfp TTolan/l is mopt Invitlne for the business man or homo roakeker. 

Por Information and BooKlet Address .A.ny of tHe folio-win^ 



WIIIIainM BruN., Planing; Mill and Con- 

trartorw 
Geo. J. Chlldn Co., Real Kntate 
C'oinnierfial Hank of Upland 
Ontario-C'iioniiioni^n Fruit Kxchangre 
Steivnrt CItriiH AMM<»fiiition 
Colborn llroH.' I'plnnd Store 
n. C. Ivennedy, Upland Cyclery 



J. T. Brov^-n, Star Barber 
At^vood-Blakenlee L>iinil>er Co. 
N. G. Paiil, Real Entate 
Gordon C. Day, BlavksmithinK 
Straeiian Fruit Co. 
JohnMon & Brown, Groceries 
Upland News 



The Reedley Country 

On the famous Kings River is in all points one of the most fertile in 
the San Joaquin Valley. Soil, water and sunsh'ne combine to 
make it all that the most visionary booster can have imagined. 
The principal products are raisins, peaches, oranges, apricots, plums, berries, 
grain, and dairy products. 

The water system is the cheapest in the state out^'de of riparian rights. 
The annual cost of water under the district system, under which we operate, does 
not exceed 50 cents per acre. 

Ten acres in fruit is sufflcient to maintain all the expense in keeping an ordi- 
nary family. Twenty acres in fruit is sufficient to maintain an ordinary family 
and hire all the work done, and spend a long vacation in the adjacent mountains, 
or on the seashore. Forty acres is sufflcient to maintain the same family and to 
allow an annual deposit in the banks of $2500 to $3000, besides taking the outing. 
Good Schools, Churches, Roads, Telephones, rural deliveries, etc., etc. 

...REEDLEY... 

is the coming town in the San Joaquin Valley. It will be next to Fresno In size 
and commercial importance in a few years. It has three railroads, with ten pas- 
senger trains daily. It has two banks with their own buildings, and all lines of 
merchandise stores. The country and the town will bear thorough Investigation. 
Come and see for yourself, or address 

SECRETARY CHAMBER OF COMMERCE, 
or any of the following: Reedley, Calif. 

L.yon Land Co. ShAffer Bros. 

StlnMon-Webti Co.. Real Estate Jesse Jansen, Jansen Water Works 

Reedley I>and Company I. J. Peek, Lomber Dealer 



This is all we ask. Look all over the State of California, or the entire continent, 
for that matter, then come to CAMPBELL, Santa Clara Co., Cal., and we know 
what your verdict will be — you will become one of us. We know we have just 
what you want, and we want you to know it, too. This is not a section of country 
waiting for a future, but is an established community with present day records of 
productiveness to guarantee future results. Nothing problematical about that, is 
there? Besides, there is no better all-the-year climate in the world than we have 
right here. Winters and summers alike leave nothing to be desired, and you do 
not have to go elsewhere in summer to keep cool or in winter to keep warm. You 
can stay at home all the year and be as comfortable as at any place on earth. But 
you cannot live on climate, so Campbell will furnish you with an opportunity to 
make a living. You can get a fruit ranch of any size desired, all ready for you 
to step in and become one of our prosperous orchardists. Cheaper lands furnish 
grand opportunities for poultry raising, with a ready market for all your product. 
Fruit packing and drying houses need your work during the long fruit season — 
men and women, boys and girls, are then in great demand. The best of educa- 
tional advantages in a good, clean, "dry" town will appeal to all, whether they are 
seeking a town home, a business place, a fruit ranch or a poultry farm. Write for 
additional information to the CAMPBELL IMPROVEMENT CLUB, or 



B. O. Curry, Real Estate 

J. C. Alnsley, Fruit Canner 

John F. Duncan 

S. G. Rodeck 

P. C. Hartnian, Dentist 



Mary F. Campbell 

Mrs. C, W. Sutter, Hotel 

Farmers' Union 

C. H. Whitman 

John Li. Hagelin 



K. B. Kennedy, Real Estate 

C. N. Cooper 

C. Berry 

E. W. Preston, Cyclery 

Campbell Fruit Growers' Union 




MONTEREY 

CALIFORNIA 



■<* 



VIEW FROM MONTEREY HEIGHTS SANITARIUM 



-f^ONTEREY Heights 
Sanitarium is situated 
in the best part of Monte- 
rey. Sheltered by the 
pines from the full force of the ocean breezes and yet having a magnificent view 
of the beautiful bay which, while large enough to shelter the combined navies of 
the Atlanhc and Pacific, is almost completely land locked. Monterey has the 
finest winter and summer climate in the United States. 

AN IDEAL HEALTH RESORT 



Lilllie Sanatorium 

Merchants Association 

Monterey County Gas & Electric Co. 

A. M. Agrgeler, Grocer 

David Jacks Corporation 

Wrigrht & Gould, Real Estate 



F. M. Hllby, Drugsist 

Littlcfleld & Masengill, Eureka Stables 

Francis Doud 

Ella Thomas, Real Estate 

Monterey Aews Co. 



Help— All Kinds. See Hummel Bros. & Co., 116-118 E. Second St Tel. Main 509. 



HEMET, CALIFORNIA 



An Ideal Place 
for a Home 



...SOIL... 

RICH DEEP 

SANDY LOAM 

"Water Supply 

One of the best in 
the entire south- 
west. 

High and Grammar 
Schools. :: :: :: 

: WRin 



ffRGUSON INVESTMENT CO. 
or WILLIAM KINGIIAM 

Hcraet, RiTcriide Co., Cal. 




HEMET POTATOES 



PRODUCTS: Potatoes. Alfalfa, Peanuts, Walnuts, Almonds, Berries; 
Citrus and Deciduous Fruits of All Kinds. 





LODI 




Go Where You WUl 








jl^.£ 




and you cannot find any better land 




Vm^w 




than the rich alluvial sediment so 
around Lodi. It is the most pro- 
ductive grape growing center in 




^^^A^' 




America. Nearly one-half of the 
table grapes from California were 




wB^^^M 




shipped from Lodi. This section 
cannot be excelled in this or any 




^^1m '^^K'-^Ki 




State for substantial profits. The 




V^Bm 




vineyards yield from four to six tons 
to the acre and the Flame Tokay 




r^ ' 




grapes bring from $40 to $80 per 
ton. Peaches, Apricots, Plums, 
Olives, Almonds, Berries, etc., also 








yield satisfactory profits. 






BErORE DECIDING 


where to locate, send for our new 






A siigle band) of Tokay Grapes metsurias 18 iaclMS 


booklet "Lodi." Address Lodi 


CALIFORNIA 


Board of Trade, Lodi, California. 



ANYVO THEATRICAL COLD CREAM 



prevents early wrinkles. It is not a freckle coatinr ; it re- 
moTes them. ANTVO CO., 427 North Main St., Los Anrelea 




"SISKIYOU 

the GOLDEN" 

Ideal Climate 
Unrivaled Scenery 
Great Cattle Country 

Immense Pine Forests 
Rich in Minerals 
Lands Low in Price 

Splendid Farming Country 
Wonderful Fruit Country 
Excellent Schools 

Healthiest Section of the West 



For additional information booklets, maps, etc., address T. J. NOLTON, Sec- 
retary of the Siskiyou County Chamber of Commerce, Yreka, Cal., or any of the 
following : 



Yreka Railroad Co. 

Scofleld & Herman Co., Furniture 

P. Li. Coburn, Attorney at Liair 

Bird & Grant, Cash Grocers 

Avery's Drug Store 

li. H. Lee, Fruit and Vegetables 



Frank W. Hooper, Attorney-Real Elstate 
Aug. Simmert, Meat Market 
Siskiyou Abstract Co. 
Hamion & Harmon, Livery Stable 
Jas. R. Tapscott, Attorney at Law 



LOS GATOS 



The Most Beautifully Situated Residence Town in 

Central California 



Located iu the foothills of the Santa Cruz mountains, fifty miles south 
of San Francisco and ten miles from San Jose 

Stanford University and State Normal adjacent. Los Gatos has first 
class facilities. 

Numerous Churches- No Saloons. Delightful Climate all the Year. 
Electric and Steam Railroad communication. This locality is the home 
of all deciduous fruits. For information address Jecretary Board of 
Trade, or any of the following : 



Crosby &. Leask, Dry Goods 

J. H. Pearce, General Merchandise 

A. C. Covert, Real Estate 

W. L. Pearce Co., General Merchandise 

B. H. Noble & Co., Real Estate & Ins. 
Johns &, McMnrtry, Real Estate 

J. A. McCoy, Real Estate & Ins. 
P. P. Watklns, Druggist 
Bank of Los Gatos 



George A. Green, Drugs and Photo Sup. 

J. D. Crummey 

H. J. Crall, Books, Stationery, Etc. 

J. J. Fretwell, Watchmaker & Jeweler 

L. B. Mallory, Broker 

E. L. Chase, Music 

O. Lewis & Son, Hardware, Tinning and 

Plumbing 
Hunt's Steam Bakery 



SARATOGA 

SANTA CLARA COUNTY, CAL. 




THE SPRINGS AT SARATOGA 

In the foothills of the Santa Cruz 
Mountains. The place for a home. Ideal 
climate and location. Quick transpor- 
tation to San Francisco and San Jose. 
Send for booklet. 

Saratofa Board of Trade, Sarato(0 mprovement Ataodation 
Or any of the following: Charles E. Bell, Real 
Elstate; Corpstein & Metzger, General Mdse.; Thoa. E. 
Smith tt Co., General Mdse.; D. Matteri, Lombards 
Hotel; B. Grant Taylor, Attorney at Law; E. C. Stam- 
per, Carpenter: H. P. Hanrain, Blacksmith. 



ORLAND 

Offers Opportunities 

The Greatest in California 

THE U. S. Government is 
spending $650,000 to irrigate 
this splendid soil. When com- 
pleted this is to be the model 
irrigation system. 

^ Landowners must sell land in 
tracts of 

40 Acres or Less 



(H they do not, Uncle Sam will ) . Let us tell 
you' all about it. Write to Frank S. Reager, 
Secretary Water Users' Assn.; P. D. Bane, Real 
Estate. W. H. Morrissey, Real Elstate; R. A. 
Pabst, Real Estate, C. C. Scribner, Livery; S. 
Iglick, Physician and Surgeon. 




Porterville 

In the Early Orange Belt 

Tulare County, California 

Will have a dozen "talks" with Out West readers 
during the coming year. 

The returns of our thousands of acres of splendid 
orange orchards fully justify the adlivity in well-drilling 
pumping plant installation and new planting now in 
progress. 

Our new colonies offer inducements to men with 
small capital to care for other growers while their own are 
coming into bearing. Drop a line for "Pradtical results.'. 

Inquire of Chamber of Commerce, Porter\ille, Cal 



Any of the Following Will Supply Information 



Hall & Boiler, Real Biitnte 

Robt. Horbach. ^Vrlte for Dooklet 

A. J. Del^aney Co., Hard>vare, Etc. 

Porterville I^iiniher Co. 

Valley Grain Jt: Warehouse Co. 

Wllko MentK. Merchant 

Pioneer Land Co. 



Avery & Seybold, Real Batate 

Firnt National Hank 

^Vi]llamn & Youne Co. 

Orange Belt Laundry 

Wm. A. Seam Inv. Co. Booklet free 

Porterville Rochdale Co. 

W. E. Premo 



SAN PEDRO, ^,f-iL?,^Si,^ 




SAN PEDRO HARBOR 



DodsoB Bros., Contractors 
Bank of San Pedro 
O. C. Abbott, Real Estate & Ins. 
San Pedro Ice Co. 



In addition to the large 
amounts being expended 
by the government to im- 
prove the harbor, over six 
million dollars of private 
capital is now being ex- 
pended to improve ship- 
ping facilities. The object 
of this expenditure is to 
furnish terminals for 
coastwise, Oriental and 
South American traffic. 
San Pedro is one of the 
best towns in Southern 
California and its pros- 
pects are exceptionally 
bright. Write to the Sec- 
retary of the San Pedro 
CHAMBER OF COM- 
MERCE for information 
regarding San Pedro, or 
any of the following 
firms. 



Huff & Williams Furniture Co. 
J. A. Roclia. Contractor & Builder 
N. T. McClennon 
F. H. Poole <fc Co., Real Ilstate 




BUSINESS BLOCK IN CORNING 



NOTICE!! 

If you're feeling well and do- 
ing well where you are don't 
move, but, if you're bound to 
move make a good move by 
moving to 

Corning, 
California 



which town contains about 2000 good American people, all of whom get enough to eat 
and wear, and find some time for recreation. Land is good. Price is low. Terms are 
easy. Climate is healthful. Water abundant. Whiskey scarce, the town being DRY. 
Good Schools, Churches, Stores and all modem things that go to make an up-to-date com- 
munity. Lots of hee literature for distribution. Write to 



Mayrvood Colony Co. 

W. N. Woodson, Real Estate 

J. E:. Rugrgfles, Maynrood Hotel 

\V. K. Hays, Attorney-at-lia-w 

W. Herbert Samson, Maywood Colony 

Nursery 
A . B. Aitken, Real Fstate 



Richard B. Fripp, Insurance Agrent 
Corning Lumber Co., Building Materials 
J. B. Beaumont, Ellephant Livery 
Chas. Cramer, Harness and Shoes 
The Diamond Match Co., Buildings Mate- 
rials 
The Bank of Corning: 



^lsfJ«paloma Tpii.et5?ap 



AX AUL 
DRUG STORE: 



LONG BEACH 



CALIFORNIA'S FINEST HOME SITE 
AND GREATEST BEACH RESORT 




BATH HOUSE AND ESPLANADE 

POPULATION 23,000 

Thirty-rive minutes riae rrom Los Angeles, Excellent School 
System. \A' ater, Lignt, and Power Plants. Many -well pavea 
Streets. NO SALOONS. Hotel Virginia, the Finest Sea Side 
Hotel on tKe Coast, just finished at a cost of $1,000,000. For copy 
or oookiet, address 

JAS. A. MILLER, Secretary 

Long Beach Chamber of Commerce 

Or any or the foUo'wing rirma 



Hotel Virginia 

FIritt .National Banlc of I^onK Beach 
Tlie >iatlonal Danli of Long Beacii 
Alamitos Land Co. 
L.OM AngeleM Dock & Terminal Co. 
United Syndicates Co., Ltd. 
Tiie EdiHon Biectric Co. 
F. \%% Stearns & Co., Ileal Estate 
Geo. H. Blount, Real Estate and Invest- 
nipntN 



tf^Mfi 



*«M 



Dr. L. A. Perce 

J. \V. \Vood 

Western Boat & Engine Worlcs, Inc. 

Roy IV. Carr & Co. 

'W. H. Barl^er, Real Estate, Loans and 

Investments 
Globe Realty Co., Real Estate & Loans 
Palace Cafe, 126 Pine Ave. 
Dr. W. R. Price, Pres. The National Gold 

DredK'niC <'<>• 





It's Summer All The Year 
at Pacific Grove, California 
The Winter Seaside Resort 

The CALIFORNIA CHAUTAUQUA 
beautiful bay of Monterey, 1 28 miles south c 
Francisco, Sunshine and no frost. Flowers 

A paradise for invalids and convalescents. 
Surf bathing every day. Fine new bath house. 



on the 
of San 
bloom 



Wc 



derful submarine gardens. Glass bottom boats. Boat- 



mg anc 



fishing. Magnificent scenery and charming drives. 
Beautiful military post. Fine schools. Old 
mission and famous histotic buildings. All 
round trip railroad ticket are good for a visit 
to Pacific Grove without extra charge. 
For literature and information address 
BOARD OF TRADE. PACIFIC GROVE. CALIF.. 
or any of the following firms: 
Holman's Department Store; D. R. Beardsley, Gro- 
cer; Pacific Improvement Co., Real Estate; Culp 
Brothers, Stationery, Sporting Goods; C. S. Harris, 
Real EUtate; Monterey County Gas 6c Electric Co.; 
Winston & Winston, Del Mar Hotel; Alexander & 
Fitzsimmons, Real Estate; Long & Gretter, Pharma- 
cists; Strong & Camp, Real Elstate & Insurance, 
Mrs. Thomas Gibson, Grove Cafe; Thos. M. Luke, 
Mammoth Stables: W. M. Davidson, Real Elstate. ' 



SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA 




To learn the facts of 
this beautiful section of 
California, address 
Dept. B, 

SAN JOSE 

Ckainberof Commerce, 
San Jose - Califoraia 

or the followfing: 



;^,V:v«.jr.*-«'-»\^  



jIN the famous Santa 
Clara Valley, 50 
miles south from San 
Francisco. Population 
including immediate 
connecting suburbs, 
57,820 (City Directory 
Census). The Educa- 
tional, Horticultural. 
Scenic and Home 
Center of California. 

Magnificent all-year- 
round climate. Stimu- 
lating, not enervating. 



*^^^.iji.^i_^l 



^LitkJil-^ 



T. S. Montgomery <& Son, Real Estate 
Hotel St. James 

The First National Banic of San Jose 
Tlie Banic of San Jose, California 
Security State Bank of San Jose 
Garden City Bank and Trust Co. 



E. A. & J. O. Hayes 

Jos. H. Rucker & Co., Real Estate, Cor. 

2nd and Santa Clara Sts. 
C. P. Anderson & Co., Real Estate 
A. C. Darby, Real Estate 
James A. Clayton & Co. (Inc.), Real 

Estate and Investments 



MAYFIELD, 



THe Nearest To-wn to 
Stanford University 




Do You Want to Buy, 
Build or Rent a Home 

Facing the Stanford University Campus? 
Forty minutes from San Francisco 

Address the Secretary of the BOARD OF 
TRADE or any of the following^business firms: 



«^ 



Stanford Realty Co.. Chaa. Marrum, Mgrr 
Co-operative I>and & Trust Co. 
Mnyflelfl Bank Truat Co., C. S. Crary, 

Cnxliier 
J. J. Moyer. M. D. 
DiKinehl Lnmlier Co. 
JoHeph R. Mean, General Merehandiae 



V. Dornberser 

D. H. Wood, Livery A BoardlnK Stablea 

A. B. Ciark 

Alex. Peara 

L. Diatei 

I'eter ToT»-ne 



San Fernando, Cal 

liTe Ideal Spot for a Home 






■M 


i^Wi' d.^k^k^WW^ 




z - 





GEORGE JR. SCHOOL 

THE FINEST CITRUS 
FRUITS IN THE WORLD 

Are Grown in the 5an Fernando Valley 

250,000 acres of the most fertile soil in Southern 
California, on which is grown every product of the soil. 

For detailed information of the opportunities offered, write 
to any of the following: 

R. P. Waite Markham & Dickerson 

Stewart Fruit Co. Van Winkle Bros. 

John T. Wilson Henry Hollye 

Mrs. F. L. Boruff . F. A. Powell 

S. N. Lopez & Co. 




PLAN TO VISIT 

Yosemite 

THIS SEASON 
Now Reached By Rail 



A quick, comfortable trip. An ideal outing 
amid the grandeurs of Yosemite. For 
through tickets and connecftions see S. P. or 
Santa Fe agent or address — 



H. H. VIMCEST 

Genl. Aet., 553 S. Spring St. 
LOS ANGELES, CAL. 



W. LEHMBR 

Traffic Mgr. 
MERCED, CAL. 



BEAUTIFUL 

Brookdale 



In the heart of the 
mountains, yet close to 
ocean and city. Only a 
few miles from the Fre- 
mont Big Tree Grove and 
the State Sequoia Park. 

A village of lovely 
homes set among groves 
of redwood, bay, spruce, 
oak, madrono, and other 
trees. The purest water 
in the state can be piped 
into every home. No 
liquor selling, nor other 
objectionable business. 
Ideal for summer resi- 
dence, or for all-the-year 
homes. For illustrated 
descriptive pamphlet, write 
to 



BROOnDALE LANDS COMPANY 

iSrooKdale, Santa Cruz County, California 




Hummel Bros. & Co., "Help Center." 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 




South 



ern 



Pacific... 



ALL' RAIL ROUTE 
TO THE 

Yosemite 
National Park 




EL CAPITAN 

In connection via. Merced with Yosemite Valley Railroad; 
Los Angeles to El Portal (the park line), where stop in 
new hotel or camp is made over night; 3^ hours by stage, 
thence to the HEART OF YOSEMITE VALLEY. Side 

trip at Low Rates, Yosemite to Wawona and the WON- 
DERFUL MARIPOSA BIG TREES. 



Ask our agent for details or enquire at City Ticket Office 

600 South Spring Street, sX Los Angeles 




V -tW^-'-A ;.-- ■ui.-i»=Lii_<l»36iJL: 



Gem of the Sierras 




LOW EXCURSION RATES 

SUMMER OF 1 908 

Fishing, Boating, Riding, Hunting, Mountain 
Climbing, Driving, Excellent Hotel Accomoda- 
tions, Camp, Tent and Cottage Life. :: :: :: 



T. A. GRJHJM 
A. G. F. & P. A. 



600 South Spring Street 

LOS AMGELES, CAL. 



SOUTHERN PACIFIC 




EASTERN EXCURSIONS 

Season 1908^^^ 



Excursion tickets for the round trip will be sold to the folloAving named 
points on July 6, 7, 8, 28 and 29; August 17, 18, 24 and 25: 

ROUND TRIP RATES 

Baltimore, Md $107.50 

Boston, Mass 1 10.50 

Chicago, 111 72.50 

Council Bluffs, la 60.00 

*Denver, Colo 55.00 

Houston, Tex 60.00 

Kansas City, Mo 60.00 

Leavenworth, Kans 60.00 

Memphis, Tenn 67.50 

Mineola, Texas 60.00 

. New Orleans, La 67.50 

New York, N. Y 108.50 

Omaha, Neb 60.00 

Philadelphia, Pa 108.50 

St. I^uis, Mo 67.50 

St. Paul, Minn 73.50 

Washing:ton, D. C 107.50 

These tickets will be good on the east bound journey for lo days from date 
of sale, and good for return passage 90 days from dat-e of sale, but in no case later 
than October 31. Stopovers will be allowed in certain territories. 

Tickets good for return via Portland will be sold at rates from $15.00 to 
$26.00 higher than these rates, which apply via direct lines only. These will be 
quoted on application. 

*Tickets will be sold to Denver, Colorado Springs and Pueblo at special rates 
only on June 15, 16, 30, July i, 2, and September 14, 15. 

We. will sell ■excursion tickets to many other eastern cities, including some 
convention points. Rates will be gladly quoted upon aplication. 

These excursion tickets are for first class passage and will be honored on 
"The California Limited," which carries only first class sleeping cars. All other 
trains from Southern California carry second class sleeping cars. . 

JNO. J. BYRNE, Asst. Passenger Traffic Manager, Los Angeles, Cal. 



SUMMER 
VACATIONS 




TKat's "wKat -we all -want, 
and if yoxi ^et yoxirs tKe 
most important q\iestion 
will be— \VHERE? 

GRAND CANYON 

OF ARIZONA 



Offers more beautiful scenery, more quiet and 
rest here close to nature, and the expense is 
low compared to other first class resorts. The 
beautiful hotel "El Tovar" under "Harvey" 
management, is sure to please. ^ During the 
summer months, low rate round trip excursion 
tickets will be sold to the Grand Canyon. 




For complete information address any SANTA F£ agent or 
JNO. J. BYRNE, Asst. Pass. Traffic Mgr., Los Angeles, Calif. 



BURLINGAME 



The most celebrated town 
in Central California today. 




SEVENTEEN MILE DRIVE AROUND SPRING VALLEY FALLS, BURLINGAME, CALIFORNIA 

The home of golf, polo, magnificent country residences, charming drives, 
healthy sea bathing and above all a climate that is second to none, educational 
facilities of the highest order and a substantial class of "all the year round" San 
Francisco business men and tradespeople. 

Burlingame is the home of flowers. Here are grown more roses, carnations, 
sweet peas and lilies than in any other section of California. 

Commg more and more into public notice as a charming community of homes, 
Burlingame is dominated today by a spirit of progress and any inquiry in regard to 
real estate, business opportunities or home advantages will be cheerfully answered 
when addressed to any of the concerns whose names appear below. 

F. J. Rodgers & G). Real Estate 
Lyon & Hoag, Real Estate F. .D Lorton & Co., Real Estate 



Geo. Wilkena, Grocer 
Beebe & Tyler, BiilldInK Contractom 
John Sheitherd & Son, Bxprena & Trans- 
fer IJellvery 
A. \j. Oflielil, I'hynlrlnn and Siirseon 
ThoninM Mcl'utoheon, Itentaurateur 
San Mateo Bakery 
W. C. Brovvn & Co., Fuel and Feed 



Lorton & Morken, Grooern 

J. H. O'Hara, I>lumbinK & PIumbinK 

Siipplien 
Albert \. Myer, Real Eatate 
Archibald & Aubrey, Real Eatate 
JoMcph C'lilbert, Livery and Private 

Boarding 
AuRTuat Bergr. Contractor and Builder 
Stanford & Co., Real Eatate 
Peninaula Meat Co. 



Help — All Kinds. See Hummel Bros. & Co., 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 





^^S^^-ii^:s^*^mm'^m!^r 



Hummel Bros. & Co., "Help Center." 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 






A Stove That 
"Makes Good" 



Baking proves the quality of 
a stove. But every stove doesn't 
pass the test. No stove bakes 
bread, pies, cakes — everything 
that's bakable — quite as well 
as the New Perfection Wick 
Blue Flame Oil Cook-Stove. 

Besides, the ** New Perfect- 
tion " stove makes the kitchen a 
cool and pleasant place in which 
to do the baking. Do the family 
cooking ; broil the steak ; pre- 
pare the meals — every separate 
item of domestic work done 
over the flame of the 



NEW PERFECTION 

Wick Blue Flame 00 Cook-Stove 

adds to your satisfaction because it's all done so quickly and 
so well. The ** New Perfection" surpasses the perfor- 
mance of any other stove. Its quick heat saves moments ; 

, its cleanliness saves labor ; its fuel economy saves expense ; 

I its new principle of blue flame combustion saves ^^ow pnysical 

rn^Hj discomfort. No other kitchen appliance 
jQ^H will take the place of the " New Perfect- 
^^H ion" oil stove. If not with your dealer, 
^ write our nearest agency. 





The 



^^■^^ you've been look 



ust such 
lamp as 
you ve been looking for. 
Made with artistic simplicity and fine proportions. 
Beautifully nickeled ; hence easily cleaned. Very 
handy to fill and trim, if not with your dealer, 
write our nearest agency. 

STANDARD OIL COMPANY 

( Incorporatrd) 




BOSTON 
GARTER 

DESIGNED TO BE WORN 
WITH KNEE DRAWERS 

NON-ELASTIC TUBULAR 

KNIT LEG BAND 
ELASTIC ADJUSTABLE 

PENDANT 

NO METAL TOUCHES 

THE LEG 

Made with the Celebrated 




CUSHION RUBBER BUTTON 

• CLASP 

OF YOUR HABERDASHER 

Cotton Pendant, Nickel Plate, 25c 
Silk Pendant, Gold Plate, 50c 
Or mailed on receipt of price 

GEO. FROST CO. 

Sole Makers, Boston 
' GOOD ALL THE YEAR ROUND ^.^ 



^<..« 



«4.«« 



Bakers Cocoa I 

Known by all Housekeepers for * 

128 Years as the Synonym I 

for Purity and | 

Excellence I 




You don't have 
to acquire a 
taste for it. It 
appeals to the 
natural taste 
and holds it 
for all time. 



Walter BaKer &i Co. Ltd. 

(Established irSO) 
DorcHester, Mass. 



I 



'ii-'90^>l06.'90^X3i}lQk^^lOi^l06ii^3ii9Q6X3i.^ 



If you had met me 
Dexore you ^vould nave 
round me a fine, ripe 

e California tomato, g 
{j hanging on the vine, jjj 




15c and 25c bottles 

Sold by grocers everywHere 

BISHOP &t COMPANT 

Los j^n^eles. California 
25 Gold Medals and HiKhest Awards on Bishop Prodacts 



WINES 

OF UNQUESTIONED AGE 
==AND PURITY== 



Grapes raised in our vine- 
yards, pressed in our winery 
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AUGUST, 1908 The Forest Service Voi. xxix. No 



C 



OUT WE3T 



BACK OF US 
N FRONT 




Copyright 1908, by Out West Ma«:azine Company 




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OUT Vv^KST 

A Ivlaga.2^ine of tlae Old Pacific and ttie NeA?v 



CHAS. F. LUMMIS 
CHARLES AM A DON MOODY 
SHARLOT M. HALL, Associate Editor 



Editors 



AMOIN^G THE STOCKHOLDERS AND CONTRIBUTORS ARE: 



DAVID STARR JORDAN 

President of Stanford University 
FREDERICK STARR 

Chicago University 
THEODORE M. HITTELL 

The Historian of California 
MARY HALLOCK FOOTE 

Author of "The Led-Horse Claim," ett. 
MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM 

Author of "Stories of the Foothills" 
GRACE ELLERY CHANNING 

Author of "The Sister of a Saint," etc. 
ELLA HIGGINSON 

Author of "A Forest Orchid," etc. 
CHARLES WARREN STODDARD 

The Poet of the South Seas 
INA COOLBRITH 

Author of "Song from the Golden Gate," etc. 
EDWIN MARKHAM 

Author of "The Man with the Hoe" 
JOAQUIN MILLER 

The Poet of the Sierras 
BATTERMAN LINDSAY 
CHARLES FREDERICK HOLDER 

Author of "The Life of Agassiz," etc. 
CHAS. DWIGHT WILLARD 



CONSTANCE GODDARD DU BOIS 

Author of "The Shield of the Fleur de Lis" 
WILLIAM B. SMYTHE 
Author of "The Conquest of Arid America." 

etc 
WILLIAM KEITH 

Tho Greatest Western Painter 
CHARLES A. KEELER 
GEO. PARKER WINSHIP 

The Historian of Coronado's Marches 
FREDERICK WEBB HODGE 

of the Smithsonian Institution, Washington 
GEO. HAMLIN FITCH 

Literary Editor S. F. Chronicle 
ALEX. P. HARMER 

CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON OILMAN 
Author of "In This Our World" 
CHAS. HOWARD SHINN 

Author of "The Story of the Mine," etc. 
T. S. VAN DYKE 

Author of "Rod and Gun In California," etc. 
MARY AUSTIN 

Author of "The Land of Little Rain" 
L MAYNARD DIXON 
ELIZABETH AND JOSEPH GRINNELL 

Authors of "Our Feathered Friends" 



Contents — August, 1908 

The U. S. Forest Service, illustrated, iby Will C. Barnes 89 

A Red Parasol in M.exico, illustrated, serial, by J. Torrey Connor in 

A Historic Flag, illustrated, by W. Handy 123 

The Sidewinder, poem, by Chas. F. Lummis 127 

The Torch, story, by Eugene Manlove Rhodes 128 

The Hash-Wrastler, poem, by Sharlot M. Hall .' 140 

Petra del Campo, story, by Wallace Gillpatrick 142 

My Bobolink Field, poem, by Laura Mackay 148 

A Southern California Garden, by Hannah Burton 149 

Eucalyptus Blossoms, poem, by Margaret Adelaide Wilson 152 

Tisare, story, by Natalie Manson Dew^ IS3 

Redondo Beach, illustrated , IS9 



Copyright 1908. Entered at the Los Angeles Postoffice as second-class matter. (See Publishers' Pa«e> 




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The First and Only Complete Edition of \ 

VOLTAIRE'S WORKS 



19 



e<ver published in English has Just been completed by the 

CRAFTSMEN OF THE ST. HUBERT GUILD 

New translations by WILLIAM F. FLEMING, including the Notes of TOBIAS 

SMOLLETT, Kevised and Modernized. A Critique and Biography 

by the RT. HON. JOHN MORLEY, M. P. 

niDF.SPREAD interest has prevailed in the publication of this great author's works, as it 
inaiks a new era in the world of literature. The real history of Voltaire's life and the 
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was translated. 

Voltaire is eminent alike as hlgtorlan, BflKC, satirist, wit, phllosoober, economist, 
dramatist, poet, essayist, as the champion of mental liberty and the foe of Intolerance In &II 
Its forms. Mis historical writings are the creation of one who was the admired friend of the 
Sovereigns of his day. Histories written with such opportunities gain in every way. His volumes 
on "The Age of Louis XIV" are by the one man best fitted to treat the Grand Monarch and bis 
environment. 

'•La Henriade" is the greatest masterpiece of Epic poetry ever written and the most eloqtient 
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lucid and self-explanatory, an inexhaustible compendium of information and delightful enter- 
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tury, which was not either originated or pioneered by Voltaire. 



J 



Voltaire will always be regarded as 
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^GOBTHB 



Athrism and fanaticism are the t"o 
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The narrow rone of virtue is between 
those two. March with a firm step in that 
path; believe in God and do good, 

— VOLTAIRB 




FORTY-THREE HANDSOME VOLUMES 

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Signature 

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0,W. 8-08 



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THE HOME CITY 



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Ouf¥C5T 



Vol. XXIX, No. 2 



AUGUST. 1908 




• THE U. S. rORElST SERVICE 

By WILL C. BARNES. 

THIS badge of authority, worn on the coat, 
vest or shirt of a sturdy, bronzed set of men, 
is becoming more familiar, to the Western 
people who use, either for business or pleas- 
ure, those great play-grounds of the coun- 
try, the National Forests. 

The word play-ground is used here ad- 
visedly ; for, while they will always be a 
source of wealth to the people, valuable to 
the stock-man whose herds graze upon their vast acreage, more 
valuable to the lumber-man and the people for their future lumber 
supply, still it will be as a play-ground, a grand picnic-park for this 
rapidly growing American people that these National Forests will 
ulti;nately find their true places in the economy of the Nation. 

The people of the West especially have a deep interest in the 
policy of Forest Preservation, meaning, as it does, so much to the 
growth and future greatness of the country west of the Missouri 
river. 

Yet no Government policy that has been advanced in the last 
forty years has met with more hostile criticism and ridicule than 
has the plan of the National Forests ,which began in a modest 
way in 1891, under the administration of President Harrison, with- 
out any very definite plans or aims beyond keeping down forest 
fires and stopping the wholesale robbing of the timber-lands that 
was going on. It was not until the Forest Bureau was divorced 
from the Interior Department, and a trained Forester, assisted by 
other men educated for this especial business, took hold of it, that 
the work began ; not only for saving what was left of our grand 
Forests, but the still more important and vital one of restoring, as 
far as man's feeble efforts can go, that which a century of reck- 



CoPVKiOHT 1008 BY Out West MaoazincCo 



Right* RcacRvco 



Illustrations by courtesy of the Forest Service, U. S. Dept. of Agrriculture 



90 OUT WEST 

lessness and riotous improvidence had almost wiped off the face 
of Nature. 

Then appeared upon the scene one Gifford Pinchot, backed by a 
force of Foresters — young fellows fresh from the schools of For- 
estry in the East that had just turned out their first crop of grad- 
uates. With these for a nucleus Mr. Pinchot gathered about him 
other young men — western stock-men, frontiersmen, miners, cow- 
boys and the like. Men who possibly could not produce any 
"sheep-skin" to prove their standing at college, but who possessed 
a diploma that no school except the school of Hard Knocks can 
give a man — practical experience. 

Starting in with a dozen forests located in various western States 
and Territories where the conditions seemed the worst, the Service 
grew rapidly. It far outran the ability of the recruiting officers to 
secure new men for the little army of rangers required to man the 
new Forests that were being made as fast as their boundaries could 
be surveyed and the lands withdrawn from entry under the land- 
laws. 

And yet this area of 167 million acres, as great as it is, covers 
but 25 per cent of the forested lands of the United States. The 
rest is in the hands of individuals and corporations, to be done 
with as they please. 

This forest-preservation, while truly national in scope, was purely 
western, and in that way local, in its immediate effects. But to the 
western stock-men, the men who for fifty years had used the west- 
ern plains and mountains for a free and unrestricted grazing- 
ground, this new order of things came with peculiar force and 
effect. 

For half a century they had used it as they pleased with none 
to say them nay, until, where once they found grand sweeps of 
heavily grassed lands, waving mountain meadows knee-deep in the 
finest and most nutritious grasses and herbage, there was nothing 
left but bare ground, or, where Nature had tried to hide the scars, 
a growth of useless weeds which no living animal would touch. 

It was difficult to convince these hardy westerners that what they 
had done in the past could not be continued — that an end had 
come to their glorious improvidence, and that henceforth they must 
graze their herds with judgment and moderation, and (what was 
by far the bitterest thing of all) must pay for it. 

Telling these men that they could graze only under certain re- 
strictions and conditions reminds one of the story told by Admiral 
Coghlan — he of "Hoch der Kaiser'' fame. 

The Admiral had on his ship an old boatswain, one of the best 
men on the vessel, but unable to go ashore without getting drunk 



THE U. S. FOREST SERVICE. 



91 



and disgracing himself and the uniform ; so the Admiral, in hopes 
of curing him, cut oflf all shore-liberty. One day when the ship 
was in port and every man and officer who could be spared was 
on shore-leave, the Admiral noticed the old salt moping about the 
deck casting longing eyes shoreward. 

His heart smote him, and, calling the sailor aft, he said : 

"Jim, would you like to go ashore this afternoon ?" 

"That I would, sir." 

"Well, Jim, I will let you go ashore, if you will promise me on 
your honor not to get drunk." 

The old salt shifted his quid from port to starboard, cast a 




OVKRGRAZKU AKIvA I.N Sa.\ 1kA.NCJ.SCo -Mol .NiAi.N.-., .\Ki/.U.\A 

This shows condition when Forest Service took charge. Note the thousands 

of hoof-tracks in foreground. This area was restored to almost its original 

condition without seriously interfering with tlie stock-men. 



longing glance shorewards, and with a sigh of disgust answered : 
"Thank you kindly, Cap'n, but what's the use of going ashore under 
thein conditions?" 

So it was with the western stock-men. Accustomed for years 
to do as they pleased with the ranges, amenable only to the law of 
force, backed up by the old axiom that "might makes right," think- 
ing only of the present and with an utterly selfish disregard for the 
future, they naturally rebelled when, under the new order of things, 
they were told that they could .still use the people's lands, but under 



92 OUT WEST 

certain conditions. Like the sailor, they said, "What's the use 
under them conditions ?" 

What of these conditions? Were they unjust or unwarrantable 
in order to preserve the forests and the water-sheds of our western 
rivers, every drop of which is needed for irrigation purposes and 
to restore the old-time grazing conditions ? 

It is frankly conceded by the friends of the Forest Service that 
in the beginning there were many mistakes made in the adminis- 
tration of the National Forests. The wonderful thing is that there 
are so few serious errors to be apologized for. 

Each day brought forth new questions to be met and decided. 
The conditions on one forest were so entirely different from those 
on another that a regulation framed to meet the situation in the 
State of Washington, with sixty inches of rain a year, was utterly 
useless when enforced in a forest in New Mexico, with ten or 
fifteen inches of annual rainfall. 

There were no established precedents to follow, but every question 
as it arose had to be met and worked out from the very founda- 
tion. Every rule that was made was eagerly watched and its value 
noted. Criticism was invited from all the users. The men, from 
the Forester himself, down to the last enrolled Forest Guard, were 
ever on the alert to receive the fault-finder and hear his troubles — 
which were many. As rapidly as possible the regulations were 
changed, to remedy developed weaknesses. The higher officials 
went into the field, met the field-men as well as the citizens who 
were using the forests, and came back with note-books full of 
thoughts and suggestions which were thrashed over in many meet- 
ings in Washington and the regulations changed wherever a change 
was needed. 

Especially were the stock-men called into consultation with the 
Forester and his officers. Hundreds of meetings have been held 
all over the West, where the stock-growers and practical range- 
men, together with the forest officers, have spent days in close dis- 
cussion of the important questions that aflfect their interests. The 
formation of Live-Stock Associations on every National Forest 
among the stock-men was encouraged in every way so as to work 
in conjunction with the Forest Service. 

Briefly, then, what are the conditions that govern the grazing of 
stock upon the National Forest? 

First : No over-grazing is allowed. The carrying capacity of 
each forest is determined by very careful methods, and not an 
animal over that number is allowed to enter. 

Second: Certain areas where the water-shed demands protec- 
tion from all forms of grazing are closed to the stock-men because 



THE U. S. FOREST SERVICE 



93 



the water-shed interests are many times more vahiable than the 
grazing interests. Two notable cases of this protection are the 
Salt Lake City water-shed in the Salt Lake National Forest and 
the Manti water-shed in the Manti Forest in Utah. 

The Manti case is especially notable because in the years before 
that Forest was made the little city had been annually almost swept 
away by floods. Thousands of dollars had been spent by the resi- 
dents in building embankments and dikes to restrain the flood 
waters, but to no avail. 

The streets of the city were yearly torn up with floods. Muge 
trees and boulders were deposited in the streets ; the fields along 







•A MoiMAi^ k^.>..,, ..> California 

Timber, grass, brush and weeds all gone. Erosion already begun. Only 

open to cattle grazing 

the little creek were ruined by the tons of silt and rubbish deposited 
upon them. 

They begged that the mountain region above them be made 
into a National Forest and that some restraint be placed upon 
the grazing on the mountain ranges in order that the forest-cover 
might be re.stored and the floods stoi)ped. 

The Forest was established after a careful and systematic exam- 
ination of the area had been made by expert Foresters, and grazing 
upon a large area was strictly prohibited for a year. 

What was the result on the Manti water-shed? Within a year 
from the time grazing was stopped, the floods began to diminish. 
The forest-cover rapidly returned. The snow, held in check by 



94 OUT W EST ' 

the bushes, grasses and other forest growth, did not melt away 
in a day as in the past. The rains that formerly fell on a bare 
open ground were now received by a sponge-like covering of dead 
grass and leaves, and these, with the living vegetation, held it in 
check from running ofif as fast as it fell. 

Four years have passed since the Forest was made, and the 
danger from floods is no longer known in Manti, while the flow 
of water in the little mountain streams is more regular and con- 
stant than ever before. 

In the West, before the average area was made into a National 
Forest, the whole country was grazed bare. Millions of sheep 
the cattle were trying to live on a country that could not possibly 
support more than one-half the number. 

It was a mad scramble for range from the time the snow left 
in the Spring to the very last day they could safely remain in the 
Fall. There were no rights respected by anyone. Each man 
hurried in as the snow left the hills, long before the ground was 
solid enough to be grazed over, trampling out the young grass, 
pushed from behind by some one following him, hardly daring to 
stay a day in one place lest some one else get in ahead of him. 
No one dared leave ungrazed a little spot of meadow land for a 
lambing-ground, knowing full well that some one else would appro- 
priate it for himself. 

Range-rights were established and held by the Winchester 
methods, and it was a clear case of "each for himself and the Devil 
take the hindermost." Under these conditions the ranges were 
swept as by fire, and the splendid growth of grass and forage that 
covered the country when the first settlers entered was gone. 

Then came the "die-off'' years, when thousands of sheep and 
cattle starved to death for want of the grass so wantonly destroyed. 
Only the larger owners, the men who had the great herds and 
unlimited capital behind them, lived through them ; while the little 
man, the chap with a few head of cattle or a small bvmch of sheep, 
was swept away, beggared and broken. The hundreds of deserted 
ranches and cabins in every little valley and meadow through the 
mountains are still standing as mute evidence of man's cupidity, 
stupidity, and utter disregard of Nature's laws. 

Is this an overdrawn picture? 

Answer me, you men who, like myself, have had a hand in this 
wholesale ruin of the western grazing-lands. 

This picture can be duplicated in almost every State and Terri- 
tory west of the Missouri River. 

Third : Certain other areas were closed against the grazing of 
sheep and goats, but cattle and horses were allowed upon them. 



THE U. S. FOREST SERVICE 95 

This was done where, for good reasons, the water-shed must be 
protected. Every fair-minded stock-man knows that from the 
grazing habits of sheep and goats, running as they do in large 
bands and feeding so close together, they are vastly more injurious 
to a range than cattle. Goats, especially, are classed as "undesir- 
able citizens'' by the Forester, because of their well-known brush- 
eating habits in preference to grass and weeds, thus preventing any 
possible growth of a new forest or underbrush. For this reason 
the Forest Service has been bitterly opposed by many short-sighted 
and selfish sheep- and goat-men, who charged the Service with 




How Goats Prefer to Dine 

Goats will eat little grass if they can get brush ; hence are apt to be 

undesirable occupants of forest ranges. 

being unduly prejudiced against them and friendly to the cattle- 
man. 

This charge is so absolutely untrue and unjust as to be scarcely 
worth argument. Every effort has been made to allow the sheep- 
men the greatest possible use of the Forests. 

The effects of sheep-grazing were carefully studied by experienced 
men, and everywhere that it could be done sheep were permitted 
to graze. Immense areas of the higher mountain-country, that in 
the past had been unoccupied because of their inaccessibility, were 
opened up to the sheep-man's use by trails built at Government 
expense over which the herds can reach the region with no trouble. 



96 our W EST 

Lambing-grounds, without which the sheep-man is ruined, are 
set aside solely for that purpose, and no grazing is allowed upon 
them except for such purposes, so that the feed there may be of 
the very best. Best of all, each sheep-man is given his range and 
protected in it. No need to watch it with Winchester in hand lest 
some one encroach on it. He leaves his winter-range in the spring, 
and takes his time leisurely and easily with his herd towards his 
summer-range, well knowing that it is safe from spoliation and 
will not be swept by some homeless, wandering sheep-man looking 
only for grass for his herd as in the old, free and reckless days. 




Same Area as Shown on Opposite Page, Und]-;k C)i,i) Conditions of Use 

Badly overgrazed. Ground cover gone — erosion already begun. Nothing 

left but rocks and bare ground. 

He knows that when he reaches his mountain-camp, his cabin 
will not have been robbed during the winter. The outbuildings, 
fences, and sometimes even the flooring, used to be burned up by 
drifting stock-outfits that swept across the country late in the Fall 
after he had left for the winter-range, and ate it all bare of what 
feed he had left. Now the omnipresent Ranger keeps watch over 
the country with a vigilant eye, and prevents such outrages. 

He also knows that when he reaches his allotted range it will 
be his for the summer, to graze at his leisure. He knows by metes 
and bounds, marked on a map furnished him by the Ranger, just 
how far each way his flock may feed. And, best of all, he knows 
that no one will encroach on that area, or, if he does, he will pay 



THE U. S. FOREST SERVICE 



97 



the penalty for so doing and the Ranger will be on hand to protect 
him. Count back, you sheep- and cattle-men, to the old days when 
we fought and scrapped for the range like wolves over a carcass. 
How many lives paid the yearly toll for what we called our "range- 
rights"? How many thousands of sheep were killed each year by 
raids upon the camps of helpless sheep-herders, whose sole crime 
was that they were trying to get a share of what was absolutely 
as much theirs as yours? Go up into Colorado, where for thirty 
years past a ucad-line has existed over which no sheep-man tres- 
passed except at the risk of his life and the loss of his herd. 

A vast mountain ret^ion, lying close along the line between Colo- 




BiG Horn National Fukivst, WAuAn-Nt. 

This is now an excellent stock-range in just the condition in which the 

Forest Service desires to keep it. 

rado and Wyoming, has been ])ractically untouched by any stock, 
simply becau.se the cattle-men on the Colorado side, who lived along 
the base of the range, would not allow any sheep to cross their 
ranges in order to reach the higher mountain-country beyond, 
which was utterly valueless to the cattle-men. 

The country was made into a National Forest — the Park Range — 
and today, for the first time, thousands of .sheep graze peacefully 
and securely on the forbidden ground where never before has a 
sheep eaten the grass, which annually rotted on the ground for 
want of something to use it. 

And the cattle-men are content, for they know that a certain line 
marks the sheep-grazing district ; they know that the sheep will 




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THE U. S. FOREST SERVICE 99 

cross into this area over a driveway through the cattle country 
especially laid out for this purpose, and they know that watchful 
Rangers will see that no trespassing is done, and that each herder 
stays within his own district and troubles no one else. 

Could this ever have been an accomplished fact but for the work 
of the Grazing Branch of the Forest Service? How many hostile 
shots have been fired between the two interests upon all the Na- 
tional Forests since their creation ? Not a single one ! 

Fourth : Many lesser conditions are enforced, all tending to the 
betterment of the range and forest. 

Take the salting regulation. What cattle-man ever felt that his 
neighbors put out a fair amount of salt? Each one dodged the 
matter, and, generally speaking, stock went salt-hungry the year 
around. Now the Ranger sees that each man puts out his fair 
quota of salt, and peace reigns. 

The cattle-men used to salt in the center of some lovely mountain 
meadow, because it was handier to dump the salt out of a wagon 
close to the road. The consequence was that the cattle naturally 
centered in there and wore out the sod on the ground for acres and 
acres about the salt-licks. Now the Rangers see that they select 
places for salting-grounds where the damage is not so great — rocky 
places or naturally barren spots, and also more of them, so the 
cattle will not gather in such large bodies at one point. 

In the old happy days, if Jones's cow bogged down and died in a 
spring, she stayed there polluting the water until nothing could use 
it. Today the Ranger sees that Jones promptly drags the carcass 
away, and either burns or buries it. This is done with all stock 
that dies close to a watering-place or public camping-ground. 

The sheep-man used to bed down his sheep in the same old place, 
often close to a spring or watering-place, night after night and 
month after month, until the country about it was worn bare by 
the tramping back and forth of the thousands of tiny sharp hoofs. 
Now the Ranger sees that they do not bed down in one place over 
six times in succession, and then they must move on to a new spot. 

Fifth, and probably the most bitterly assailed condition which the 
Service enforces, is the one by which the number of stock each man 
is allowed to graze is determined. 

I know many stock-men will not agree with me when I make 
the statement that the method by which the number of stock each 
man shall range upon the Forest area is determined is as near fair 
and just as human ingenuity can devise. 

The reason they cannot see it is because they do not try to, in 
the first place ; and, second, because they do not want to believe it. 
We are all perfectly willing that the other fellow shall be cut down 



100 O UT W EST 

to give someone else a chance, but we squeal when the cut comes 
on our herd. 

I cannot better illustrate this policy and the way it is worked out 
than to take a single instance. 

When the Unita National Forest was created in 1904, there were 
over half a million sheep and nearly 50,000 cattle and horses grazing 
upon the area. That it was frightfully overstocked no one doubted, 
and every honest stock-man admitted. They were called together 
and it was pretty generally agreed that a reduction of fully forty 
per cent would be necessary in order to give the range a chance to 
regain its original value. But forty per cent was a pretty stiff cut, 
and the Forest Service men after a careful study decided to cut 
down the herds twenty per cent the first year and the other twenty 
per cent the second year. 

The reductions were made, grazing rules were strictly enforced, 
each man was allotted his particular portion of the range, and the 
promiscuous scrambling for grass was stopped. 

To everybody's surprise, the range began to improve from the 
start, and when it was carefully examined in the Fall, before the 
snows drove out the herds, it was decided that the second twenty 
per cent cut need not be made the following year. 

For 1908 the Forest will carry 350,000 sheep and 27,000 cattle 
and horses — and there will be feed for all. 

When the Forest Service took the range in charge, the sheep were 
owned mostly by a few large owners. The next year many new 
men appeared on the scene and demanded room for their herds. 
Here was a question in mathematics to be worked ovit — a puzzle 
that had the 13-14-15 puzzle of a few years ago beaten a mile. 

There were two fixed points, as unalterable as the law of the 
Medes and Persians — to wit, the number that could use the range, 
and the size of the range. The only movable element in the whole 
question was the number of owners. You could take from A and 
give to B. Then when C appeared you could take equally from A 
and B and give to C — and so on down the line. 

There were two other basic principles that President Roosevelt 
insisted upon as a foundation for the whole structure of using the 
Forest range ; one being that the proper development of the West 
demanded more men, more home-builders, more tax-payers. Better 
a thousand men, each with a thousand sheep or a hundred cattle, 
than ten men with ten thousand sheep or one thousand cattle each. 

The other was that every person using a National Forest must 
be a bona fide settler and owner of improved ranch-property, either 
in or adjoining the Forest, which land he used in the grazing of his 

stock. 

This, then, was practically what was done. A certain definite 



THE U. S. FOREST SERVICE 



101 



number was fixed below which no man would be reduced, which 
number was believed to be necessary for a man to own in order to 
support his family and make a decent living. 

Therefore, a certain day is set on each National Forest, on or 
before which all grazing applications for the ensuing grazing-year 
must be filed. 

Referring to the Unita Forest again, in February last, when the 
Supervisor opened the applications that were on file he found that 
for the year 1908 applications had been made to graze 509,070 head 
of sheep on that Forest. As it had a capacity of but 352,000, he 




A Typical ciOAT Range 

Very little grass, rocky soil, plenty of oak browse. Such a range is more 

valuable for goats than for any other stock. This photograph was taken in 

the Prcscott National Forest, Arizona. 



had a surplus of 157,000 sheep to dispose of. 

He began by throwing out all the applications from men who had 
no grazing rights upon that Forest. (By grazing rights is meant 
either bona fide homesteaders, or settlers owning improved ranch- 
property upon or adjacent to the Forest, or stock-men who, while 
not living on the Forest, have been constant and regular users of 
the ranges in the Forest.) This cut the total down very close to 
the capacity of the Forest, leaving about 15,000 head belonging to 
"new applicants" — men who had never used the range before, but 
were still bona fide settlers because they had recently taken up 




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104 OU T IV EST 

land under the various land laws, or had purchased ranch-property 
from some one in or close to the Forest. 

These are the men, however, that the President desires should be 
taken care of. They are the true homesteaders and home-builders — 
the men who are to people these western lands. What can be done 
for them ? Just here is where the Forest Service makes itself sadly 
disliked, because, in order to take care of these new men, it says to 
all the other owners who have been using- the range, "You must 
submit to a slight reduction in numbers, sufficient to make room 
for these new settlers, that the Forest may truly be 'the greatest good 
for the greatest number.' " Thus each man is scaled down accord- 
ing to a regular schedule — the man with 10,000, twenty per cent ; 
between 10,000 and 5,000. fifteen per cent ; from 5,000 to 3,000, ten 
per cent ; 3,000 to 2,000, five per cent ; until enough has been taken 
from each owner to make room for the new sheep and still not run 
over the number the Forest can safely care for. 

Right here is where the charge begins that one hears so often made 
against the Forest Service by the stock-men, that it stifles the indi- 
vidual growth and forces a man to decrease his business instead of 
allowing him to expand and increase. But it is again a question 
of the greatest good for the greatest number. The demands of 
the stock-men that they be allowed to go on increasing their herds 
cannot be entertained ; for, if it was allowed, the natural increase 
would in a few years give a few men the complete control of all 
the ranges. 

The one thing the Forest Service does guarantee the stock-man 
is that he will never be decreased in numbers below a certain point, 
which is set with careful consideration. When that point is reached, 
no new owners may come in, and further extension will have to 
cease except where some one sells out and quits the business. 

This point has already been reached on one or two National 
Forests, and is rapidly drawing near on many others. 

It is simply a case of more stock than range, and while the 
Forester would only be too glad to say to all comers, '"Here is room 
enough for every one who wants it," and thus avoid all these un- 
pleasant complications, he faces the problem each year and endeavors 
to solve it as fairly and honestly as it can be done. 

On the Manti National Forest in Utah this year, there were 132 
new applicants — new men who wanted to gain access to the Forest 
and go into the stock -business. Many of these were young men 
just of age taking up their first homesteads and entering on life's 
course for themselves. Shall the man with 10,000 sheep or a thou- 
sand cattle not give up a small portion of his range and let the 
young man in with his little bunch ? 



THE U. S. FOREST SERVICE 



105 



Yet on the Manti Forest this cutting-down process has been so 
steady for the last few years that the 10,0(X)-head man has all but 
been wiped out — cut down to an equality with his neighbors — and 
so little was left to cut down on, that this year, out of these 132 
new men, but five could be taken care of, and the rights of the 132 
were so very nearly equal that it was impossible to select the lucky 
ones in any better manner than by holding a lottery and giving the 
permits to the holders of the lucky numbers — which was duly done. 

What are the results of this work by the Forest Service as far as 
the stock-men are concerned? 

What did the Service find in Arizona on the great grazing region 




In the Sai^t lyAKE Nationai, Forest 
Mountain-side stripped of all timber for smelter and other purposes, then 
ravaged by fire and stock until absolutely ruined 



in the mountains there, now known as the San Francisco and Black 
Mesa National Forests? A barren range that fifteen years before 
was a paradise for the stock-man — 10,000 cattle left where once 
ranged 200,000, the rest dead or shipped away to save them ; the 
sheep-men struggling for an existence, fighting over the range and 
going from bad to worse. 

What are the conditions today? 

The range is rapidly returning to its old shape ; there are almost 
as many sheep as ever before, and the cattle-men are increasing 
their herds every month. 

For two years past they have been shipping range-beef direct 
froiTi the ranges to the markets of California, a thing that had not 



106 



OUT WES T 



been done for years. Peace reigns where once was tumult and 
strife. Range-rights are respected and well defined. 

Would you go back to the old days of '86 to '90? 

I hardly think so. 

What is true there is true all over the West. In Utah on one 
Forest 434 individual owners have permits for less than 1,000 sheep 
each. Dozens of them own and run less than 500 head each. On 
another, 169 different men are grazing sheep under permit who 
own less than 1,000 head each, a majority of them under 500 head 
each. 




Sheep on the B.a.ca Grant, Arizona 

Their habit of grazing in large bunches, and very close together, makes 

them far more injurious to a range than cattle. 

Think you in the old days of the Winchester and six-shooter these 
little fellows would have lasted very long in the scramble for grass ? 

Of the 18,616 permits issued in 1907, upon all National Forests, 
for cattle and horses, 11,662 of them were to men who owned less 
than forty head each. What would have become of their little 
bunches if the old system still obtained and great herds of sheep 
and cattle were allowed to sweep the country bare as they once did ? 
You all know as well as I. The little men went out of the cow- 
business in 1893 to 1896. They are getting back into it today. 

As for the main question of forest-preservation, everyone is for 
it — no one questions its value or necessity. The only point involved 
is the stock-men's use of the Forests ; and, while there is some 



THE U. S. FOREST SERVICE 



107 



past and will doubtless be made in the future. The little army 
which the Forester commands is scattered far and wide, and a 
watchful eye cannot be kept on all of them. Every man's record 
friction, it is rapidly passing away as the true value of grazing 
under such conditions is better understood. For his permit from the 
Forest Service, the stock-man is guaranteed grass, water and pro- 
tection, and a stability and permanence in his business which he 
never knew under the old methods. He may fence up pastures for 
his saddle-animals, build drift-fences to keep his stock from wander- 
ing away from home, the wire for which the Forest Serivce furnishes 
him free of cost, get all his fire-wood and logs for corrals and build- 
ing purposes free of all charge. 




Catti.I': on R\sc,h in a Montana National Kokksi 
Cattle seldom run in bunches of more than a dozen head. 



The Service opens up springs, and pipes the water to troughs for 
stock ; digs deep wells where water is scarce ; and, in fact, for every 
dollar the stockman pays for grazing-fees, the Government puts one 
back in improving the range-conditions for him. 

And the fees? If the Forests were in private hands, or even if 
the grazing privileges were put up at auction, they would bring 
double or-treble the prices they do now. 

All over the Pacific Coa.st the lands on National Forests owned 
by railroads and other corporations which are leased to the stock- 
men are eagerly snapped up at rates two and three times as high 
as the same grazing brings on the adjacent Government lands, al- 
though the lessee of the private lands gets back nothing whatever 
in the way of improvements. 

As to the men who control the destinies of these Forests, they 
are but human and liable to error. Mistakes have been made in the 



THE U. S. I'ORESr SERVICE 109 

is watched, however, and as fast as he shows abiUty along certain 
lines, he is promoted to positions of responsibility and trust. 

A careful and thorough system of inspection is carried on by 
competent men, who are the eyes of the Forester, and the stock-man 
who fancies that his destinies are presided over by a lot of college- 
bred Easterners makes the mistake of his life. 

In the Branch ©f Grazing in the Washington office, where the 
grazing business of all the Forests is mapped out and controlled, 
the seven men, each in charge of a separate division of the work, 
are all men from the ranges — western men from the core, to whom 
every phase of the stock-business is an old story, who know by prac- 
tical experience the many difficulties and hardships that beset the 
western range stock-man. and whose sympathies are always on his 
side. 

Of these seven, two were born in Califorina. one each in Colorado, 
Arizona. Montana and Illinois, the seventh being born in Switzer- 
land, but a resident of L'tah almost from boyhood. When they 
entered the service, three of them were residents of Arizona, one 
of New Mexico, and one each of Colorado. Utah and Montana. As 
to their occupation in the past, four were cattle-men and three sheep- 
men prior to entering the Service. 

Regarding the general force, one who studies it is impressed with 
the splendid organization that Mr. Pinchot has built up. The esprit 
de corps that pervades the entire force from the newest man up is 
simply wonderful. 

The work goes with a snap ; there are no laggards in the Service. 
A spirit of emulation and friendly rivalry seems to take possession 
of every man who enters the Service. 

There are no jealousies, no "knockers." The success of one man 
in any line of work is a matter of congratulation by all. Each is 
eager to advance the work ; every man is continually searching for 
new ideas, new plans, by which at .some place the work may be 
improved. 

To a stranger, impressed with the thought that Government em- 
ployees are a time-serving, clock-watching lot, this may come as a 
surprise. I am quite certain it did to me when I first investigated 
the Service. lUit from top to bottom, from Chief to Messenger 
Boy, the entire force is keyed to the highest pitch and works day 
and night for the success of the Forest Service. 

Of all the workers, the busiest one among them, the man who is 
at his desk earlier, stays later, does more than any man of all the 
force, and then takes a day's work home with him \,over which to 
spend half the night, is the Forester — Gifford Pinchot. Can I say 
more of him than that his splendid courage, tireless industry, un- 
failing good-nature, genius for organization, and all-pervading per- 
sonality have made the Service what it is? 

Never was a leader more loyally supported — never a leader more 
deserving of that support. 

In such hands, and with such a leader, the people of the United 
States, and the .stock-men especially, mav safelv leave the I^fetional 
Forests, with the full assurance that in their administration all men 
will be dealt with on an equal footing, be they great or little, high 
or low, rich or poor. 
Washington, D. C. 




A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. Ill 

A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO 

Byy. rORREY CONNOR 
IX. 
T WAS late in the afternoon of the same day. Soft 
shadows touched tenderly the vine-hung patio of the 
old hotel in Cuernavaca; the languor that spells the 
golden hour of dreams lay over all. 

There was no rustling of leaves — even the breezes 
slept. The waters of the fountain fell ,into the stone basin with a 
faint, tinkling sound that was like the echo of a dream ; the drone 
of bees in the roses was hushed. A paroquet in his bamboo cage 
mumbled drowsily as the professor, his head still bandaged, passed 
by, to stand for the twentieth time in the portalcs, where he had 
an unobstructed view of the street down which the travelers of the 
morning had gone. ( 

"1 don't see why my folks don't come," he complained to the 
landlord, an unimaginative, down-East Yankee of the type not 
given to worry or trouble-borrowing. 

"They're all right," the latter returned, easily, between puflfs at 
a big black cigar. "There ain't no Tnjuns or bears runnin' around 
loose, 's far 's I know, in this neck of the woods." 

But the professor was not to be reassured. He seated himself in 
the chair that promised the greatest comfort, and, leaning his aching 
head on his hand, croaked dismally. What had possessed Miss 
Snodgrass to take an all-day trip — and such a trip ! — without mak- 
ing matters clear to him? He had always judged his sister ot be 
a woman of sense. A bridge three feet wide, and Zenia could 
hardly sit a horse ! And they would get nothing fit to eat in a 
place like that. 

The landlord advised the professor to "take a look around town." 
Tourists — the professor winced at the term — seemed to, be plumb 
daflFy about Cuernavaca. Cortez's palace was right over there — 
Cortez was a king or something. A man named Maximilian had 
built a real showy summer-house out in the suburbs, but it wasn't 
much now — all run down. Part of the year this man and his 
wife. Carlotta, lived in the Borda garden. That was a sight for 
you ! It was much finer once, ^though — so people had told him. 
He couldn't say as to the truth of the yarn — it must have been 
twenty-five or thirty years ago that the Maximilians settled in 
Cuernavaca, and that was before his time — but he had heard that 
the waters of the fountains in the garden were full of gold-fish 
when Maximilian owned the place, and that peaches as big as your 
two fists fell into Carlotta's lap every time Maximilian .shook the 
trees. Had the professor seen the cathedral ? Everybody made a 



112 OUT WE3T 

fuss over the cathedral — and there wasn't a buihdng in town that 
was in such need of a coat of whitewash. 

Oh! The professor was a scrap-heap crank himself, was he? 
Well, give him things up-to-date. And that reminded him : A 
friend of his, Jones, living in the State of Vera Cruz, had the all- 
firedest, queerest thing on his hacienda — Old ! It must have been 
there before the Flood. 

Perhaps the professor had met the step-son of Jones — Angel 
Jiminez, his name was — in the City of Mexico. Xo? That was 
strange — and both stopping at the Hotel del Jardin. It was strange, 
too, that Angel hadn't followed Miss Staines around. Angel had 
set his heart on marrying an American girl, and had played bear 
to all the pretty ones that came his way. There wasn't a mite of 
harm in Angel — not a mite. 

At this point the professor brought the wandering landlord back 
to the starting-point ; whereupon he related his story without further 
circumlocution. 

On the estate of his friend Jones was a pyramid, built of squared 
stones. A-top this pyramid was a roughly fashioned figure, a heathen 
idol. A number of peons were working in the field near by ; and 
one day one of them, in a spirit of bravado, struck ofif the right 
hand of the image, or idol, or whatever it was, with a crowbar. 
According to his fellow- workmen, a dreadful frown darkened the 
face of the idol ; and, wonderful to tell, the man who had done the 
deed was stricken with paralysis in the right arm ! 

The professor owned to be mildly interested in "heathen idols," 
and the landlord ofifered to give him a letter of introduction to 
Angel Jiminez, who would do the honors of his step-father's 
hacienda with the same princely liberality that characterized his 
spending of Jones's pesos. 

"If he's got money, show him to me," said the professor. I'd 
like to interest him in my Lost City Syndicate." 

"A city is a mighty queer thing to lose," the landlord, scratching 
his head reflectively, opined. 

"We have it from the cura of Quiche, who told Stephens that he 
had seen it from the ridge of a high mountain, that there is such 
a city," said the professor convincingly. 

"Didn't he ever get any nigher than the mountains ?" asked the 
landlord. 

"I — ah — believe that no one so far has penetrated to the heart 
of the city and escaped alive. The city and region round about 
are inhabited by descendants of those who roamed the country 
before the Spanish invasion. 

"Two young men — mentioned by Stephens and Morlet — once 




'Pi,AYiNG Bear' 




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A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 115 

entered the city after a fight with the Indians. They remained for 
a time, and were apparently tolerated by the inhabitants. Attempt- 
ing to escape, they were set upon by the Indians and one was sac- 
rificed upon the altar of their temple. The other, badly wounded, 
escaped to the forest of Guatemala, but died soon after being 
rescued. It is my intention to form an expedition and go in search 
of the lost city, just as soon as I — er — obtain more accurate infor- 
mation as to its exact location." 

"Sounds exciting," commented the landlord. "How d'you expect 
to work it? Hypnotize 'em? 

"I have planned to journey by easy stages into the interior of 
Guatemala. With a force of armed peons, we should succeed, 
where others, who braved the dangers without protection, failed." 

"What would there be in it for him — Angel?" 

"Why, the city is as good as a gold mine ! The natives still 
observe their customs, manner of dress, and all that. They, sup- 
posedly, make offerings upon their altars, as of old. There is the 
wealth of Ind in their temples." 

"Good idea to start in before someone else gets track of it, eh?" 

"Assuredly ! But there are such gaps between intention and 
action, in this land of manana. Xo one ever thinks of doing any- 
thing today." 

The thud of horses' hoofs sounded far down the street. The 
professor .started up expectantly. 

"That mu.st be my folks," he said, wrinkling his forehead under 
its bandages in an eflPort to get a focus on the approaching figures. 

"It ain't. It's Hiram Cook and Miss Cook, of Chicago — tour- 
ists, they be." 

"They may have seen my folks," the professor persisted. 

Hiram Cook, of Chicago, halted his horse in the shade of the 
portales, and tumbled, groaning, into the arms of the attendant 
Mexican. 

"i feel as full of bones as a shad." lie lamented, in loud tones 
that took the town folk into his confidence. 

Dust-powdered, with perspiration working weird patterns on his 
sun-burned countenance, he limped the length of the portales and 
dropped heavily into a chair. Miss Zitella — properly skirted, now — 
paused in her retreat toward the patio as the professor stepped 
forward and addressed them : 

"Has either of you by chance seen a middle-aged lady — my sister, 
and an archaeological student of some renown — and a young lady 
with a red parasol — " 

"She wouldn't have a parasol on horseback,'' the landlord re- 
minded him. 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 117 

"Ah, quite so ! Tlic ladies were going to Xochicalco — " 

"We have just come from there," interrupted Miss Zitella. 

"We saw the ladies, yes, and talked with them," Mr. Cook, 
keeping more to the point, supplemented. "'What time was it when 
we saw them, Zitella?" 

But Miss Zitella, mindful of «lu-t. disordered locks and a sun- 
burned nose, had slipped away to her apartment, where the solace 
of a hot bath and cold cream awaited her. 

"The ladies were all right, then," said the professor, straightening 
as if a weight had fallen from his shoulders. 

They certainly appeared to be, Mr. Cook thought. They had 
mentioned their intention of passing the night at an Indian village. 

The professor was sure they would get nothing fit to eat. Mr. 
Cook was of the opinion that they stood as good a chance there 
as in any part of a country that was without knowledge of Christian 
cookery. 

"You are right, my dear sir, entirely right." The professor, 
speaking as soul to kindred soul, poured forth his confidences un- 
restrainedly, while the landlord brought that which would assuage 
a thirst induced by the heat of the tropics. 

"You've been in Mexico long enough to know how it is yourself, 
sir. You go to a Mexican hotel or restaurant for a meal, and they 
bring on something so seasoned with pepper and garlic that you 
cant tell whether it's flesh, fowl, or good red herring. You eat 
the meat and wait for the vegetables ; and while you are waiting 
they begin all over again, and serve you with seven courses of 
meat. If you're in luck, you get beans, or tomatoes, messed up 
with rice, on the side. What wouldn't I give for a good old- 
fashioned boiled dinner, or a big platter of ham and eggs !" 

"I'd give ten dollars right now for a piece of mince pie such as 
my wife used to turn out," said Mr. Cook. "If there's one thing 
I miss more than another, since she died, it's her mince pies." 

"Here's a telegram for you, professor." the landlord interpo.sed. 
"Sent collect — charges, three-thirty, Mex." 

The ])rofessor init forth a limp hand to receive the message ; but 
on reading it he sat up alertly, pushing the bandage off his fore- 
he.-id, and gazing excitedly about. 

"What time is the afternoon train from the City of Mexico 
due ?" he asked. 

"The train." said the landlord, "will most likely be in about five, 
if it's late." 

" 'W'eston sails from Vera Cruz on the twenty-seventh,' " the 
profes.sor read, abstractedly. "Let's see — today is the seventh. 'I 
shall keep him in sight. Peter Yeere left here today for Cuerna- 




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A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 



119 



vaca. Will probably try to mislead you as to Weston's move- 
ments. BOLTON.' " 

There was a rustle of crisp muslin skirts behind the professor's 
chair, a discreet little cough, and Miss Zitella appeared. 

"Excuse me, sir," she said, sweetly, "but I couldn't avoid over- 
hearing the name you mentioned — l\ter Yeere, I think you said. 




Thb Cathedral, Cuernavaca 

Is — is Mr. Yeere coming here?" 

Mr. Cook took off his spectacles and regarded his daughter. 

"You're up to something. W^hat is it?" he queried. 

"Why do you say that?" returned Miss Zitella, in an injured tone. 

"Because you look so blamed innocent. The fact is, sir," turning 
to the astonished professor, "I haven't had a minute's peace since 
my daughter made the acquaintance of a young Spanish gent, com- 
ing down on the steamer. Claimed he'd been two years at school 



120 OUT WEST 

in the United States, and him with a speech that goes sideways, 
Hke a crab to war !" 

"But Peter's a down-East Yankee," the professor objected. 
"Nothing Spanish about him." 

"Oh, the Spanisher's name is Jiminez," said Mr. Cook. "This 
Peter is every bit as bad, though. I thought we'd got shut of both 
of 'em." 

"Where does the young Spaniard Hve?" asked the professor. 

Mr. Cook indicated his supreme indifference as to the abiding- 




SuMMER Home of Maximiwan, near Cuernavaca 

place of Mr. Jiminez, but beHeved it to be the City of Mexico. 

"Ah ! The idol man," the professor hazarded, looking to the 
landlord for confirmation. 

"He may be idle," said the landlord, "but there ain't a mite of 
harm in Angel — not a mite." 

"Did you say that Mr. Yeere would be here this afternoon?" 
queried Miss Zitella. 

Aunt Zenia and Polly were riding slowly toward Cuernavaca — 
slowly, since Aunt Zenia vowed her inability to keep to the pace of 
the guide, who appeared to be in haste to reach town and supper. 

The evening breeze had risen, cooling the sun-baked earth. It 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 121 

wrought pretty confusion with the soft locks on Polly's brow as 
she rode along, her unseeing eyes fixed on the distant mountain 
ramparts, from which the sunset flags were flying. 

She longed to be alone that she might think over the events of 
the past weeks, and form some plan of release from bonds that 
galled; but to deviate from the every-day routine was to excite 
comment. Aunt Zenia would question her; questions and com- 
ments alike must be avoided. 

She loved and was loved ; and oh, it was sweet to be loved — sweet 
as heaven ! Knowing, now, the divine needs of the heart, she could 
not cheat the man to whom she was plighted with the poor sub- 
stitute for love, affection; and affection was all she had to give 
Peter. 

Perhaps the quickest, the most direct way of ending the matter 
would be the kindest. She mused on this, making irrelevant replies 
to Aunt Zenia's occasional remarks, or replying not at all. In con- 
clusion, she decided that she would write to Peter as soon as she 
arrived at the hotel ; and the letter should be sent to him, togethre 
with the ring, the first thing in the morning. After all, the surgeon's 
knife hurts but to heal. 

It was dusk when the three galloped up the steep stony street of 
Cuernavaca, and drew rein in front of the hotel. The swinging 
lantern that lighted the portales dazzled Polly's eyes, accustomed 
to the gloom. She saw Aunt Zenia, limping away on the arm of 
the professor ; then someone lifted her from her horse — and Peter's 
eyes were looking into her own. 

He drew her into the patio, and, placing both hands on her 
shoulders, smiled down at her. 

"You haven't told me how glad you are to see me, Pollywog," 
he said, whimsically. 

"Oh, why did you come, Peter?" Polly breathed. "It would have 
been so much easier to write it." 
"Write what?" 

"That — that it was all a mistake. It is a mistake, Peter, — oh, 
believe me, it is ! Take the ring. Some other girl — some time — " 
Peter made no move to take the ring. He allowed himself a 
moment of dazed incredulity ; but at the second look into Polly's 
eyes, his winged love lay in the dust of humiliation. Wounded, 
angry as well, he flung away to battle with emotions heretofore 
undreamed of in his philosophy. 

Polly gazed wistfully after him ; there were tears in her eyes. 
She felt that the old cameraderie would never be theirs again, that 
she had lost, not only her lover, but her friend. 

(To be continued.) 




123 
A HISTORIC FLAG 

By W. J. HANDY. 
HI{ flag shown on opposite page was brought from St. 
Louis, Mo., by Captain Fremont on his third expedition 
across the continent, 1845-6. • The scars appearing on 
it are said to have been made by arrows in some of his 
encounters with hostile Indians, 

It is the same flag raised at Gavillan Peak, near Monterey, March, 
1846, when, after having received permission to obtain supplies and 
continue his explorations, he was ordered by General Castro, Mex- 
ican military commander, to abandon his work and at once leave the 
country, under threat of using force to drive him out. In Fremont's 
own words: "I replied this was an insult to my Government and 
myself, and I peremptorily refused." 

With his small force a rude fort was erected and this flag raised. 
After i)atiently waiting a few days without any attack, Fremont 
leisurely marched away. This is the first time the U. S. flag was 
raised in defiance to the Mexican authorities in California. 

Again, a few days after learning of the taking of Monterey by 
Commodore Sloat, Fremont went to Sutter's Fort, near Sacramento, 
and on July 11, 1846, raised this flag, with a salute of twenty-one 
gims, announcing that California had been taken and was held for 
the United States. Lieutenant Walpole of the Collingicood, English 
navy, described the appearance of Fremont's party in 1846: 

"During our stay in Monterey. Captain Fremont and party ar- 
rived. They naturally excited curiosity. Here were true trappers, 
the class that produced the heroes of Fenimore Cooper's best works. 
The men had passed years in the wilds, living upon their own re- 
sources. 

"A vast cloud of dust appeared first, and then in long file emerged 
this wildest wild party. Fremont rode ahead, a spare, active looking 
man. He was dressed in blouse and leggings, and wore a felt hat. 
After him came five Delaware Indians, who were his body guard. 

"The rest, many of them blacker than the Indians, rode two and 
two, the rifle held by one hand across the pommel of the saddle. 

"Kit Carson is as well known as the Duke (Wellington) is in 
Eiirope. The dress of these men was principally a long loose coat 
of deer skin, tied with thongs in front, trousers of the same, of their 
own manufacture. 

"They are allowed no liquor ; tea and coffee only. This, no doubt, 
has much to do with their good conduct, and the discipline, too, is 
very strict. 

"The butts of the trappers' rifles resemble a Turkish musket, 




John Cook, of Honolulu 
Owner of the Fremont Flag shown on page 122. 




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A HISTORIC FLAG. 127 

therefore fit tight to the shoulder. They are long and very heavy, 
carry a ball about thirty-eight to the pound." 

The flag was with the California battalion, commanded by Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Fremont, in all the exciting events during the early 
days of American occupation, and at the final capitulation at Ca- 
huenga, February, 1847. 

Its present owner, John Cook, now 85 years of age and a resident 
of Honolulu, says he was in San Francisco in 1849, and helped to 
build the first dock on the bay, at Clark's Point, and was a member 
of the first vigilance committee. His vigilante captain, name un- 
fortunately forgotten, was one of Fremont's party from its organ- 
ization on the Missouri river to its final disbandment. Taken sick, 
he was cared for by Mr. Cook and buried by him in the sand hills 
in Hayes Valley. 

Mr. Cook says the captain gave him this flag, with some other 
relics, and frequently told him of his service with Fremont and the 
adventures in which this flag was present. 

If this flag had a tongue, what interesting stories we should hear, 
for stirring reminiscences linger in its faded folds. 



H 



(Reprinted by request.) 

THE SIDEWINDER 

By CHAS. F. LUMMIS. 
LAZY loop of lozened grey, 

I stretch amid the sand and sun ; 
Or writhe a sullen yard away, 

The greasewood's creeping shade to shun. 



The hot earth nestles to my chin ; 

My lidless eyes outface the sky 
All unabashed ; and dry and thin 

My unawakened rattles lie. 

The desert glare that does to death 
The blind un-lovers of the sun — 

Poor fools, that court a colder breath, 
Nor know that heat and life are one. 

It filters through my scaly still, 
It simmers to one drop of Fate — 

The mother-tincture of To Kill, 

Quintessence of a whole world's hate. 

Content I dream ; — content is deep, 

For whom three mortal joys there be — 
My own white sun, my ardent sleep, 
And sleep for him that wakens me! 
Belford's Magazine, May, 1891. 
*Crotalus cerastes; the homed rattlesnake of the Southwest. 




128 

THE TORCH 

By EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES. 
SING the words in the best sense, the two diners at the 
Falcon represented the highest forms of antipodal 
types — the master of men, the masterless man. 

Cutler was born under Joseph's star — hero and pat- 
tern of his childish playmates ; later, boast and idol of 
his class, unquestioned leader, "bold, fortunate and free." His vic- 
tories were not less deserved for being lightly won. With a gen- 
erous, sunny temper, a cheerful spirit of fair play, he had that last, 
best gift we so clumsily miscall "personal magnetism" — meaning, 
indeed, no such pitiful trumpery, but "the genius to be loved" ; for 
which potential rivals had followed ungrudgingly, loyal allies, at 
most, rejoicing in his honors. 

Noon-tide brought him but repetition of morning triumphs ; 
sober thought, high dream, yet worded from that bright lexicon 
whose unconsulted golden leaves we turn no longer, you and I and 
most, conning only one self -opening, wonted page in the stained 
and blotted addenda. 

Confidence and charm were backed by talents of high order — keen 
intelligence, ripe scholarship, shrewd common-sense, vitality, energy, 
industry, purpose. At thirty-five, he was an admitted leader of the 
metropolitan bar. Nor was he lawyer only — he had kindliness, sym- 
pathy, insight, public-spirit. More than once or twice his plain- 
speaking had clearly voiced the confused inarticulate thought of the 
day. New York looked on him as a coming man, thrice-marked for 
greatness by birth, by solid achievement, by irresistible thrusting-on 
of standing, opportunity, place, faith and party ; and by the nameless 
uplift of far-reaching fraternal ties, unmeasured but potent. Al- 
ready he was a factor in the national life, watched from afar. 

As he talked. Cutler found himself studying his companion with 
something more than curiosity, recalling his past knowledge of the 
man, startled to realize how little it was, despite the intermittent 
years of their acquaintance. 

Gay was uncatalogued. Widely scattered as were the bits of his 
known biography, the given curve was not sufficiently defined for 
further calculation. When his erratic orbit brought him back to 
New York for brief, uncertain periods, he occupied a position unique, 
inexplicably sure, unjustified by any claim of his for accomplish- 
ment in his unexplained absences, or by any declaration of future 
intent. Himself almost unknown, Gay yet held a curious sub- 
celebrity with not a few men who had won distinction in widely 
diverging lines. Without credentials, without chronicled personal 



THE TORCH 129 

achievement, making no demands, this unquestioning acceptance — 
as of a blank check bearing authentic signature — was a tacit ac- 
knowledgment of initiative, strength, refuge — a tribute the finer for 
its unconsciousness. 

Between flittings, he had found time to assist in several reforms — 
an effective, unauthorized free-lance, a cheerful, casual satirist. His 
stinging phrases, step-fathered, became watchwords shrilled by 
drudging, hopeless multitudes in derisive scorn, more galling than 
any hate. Solemn Sham, hoary Privilege issued mandate, "Silence 
me this ambushed Laughter!" To find the Laugher unexpectedly 
invulnerable, asking neither favor nor gold of any man, having no 
ambitions to be crushed, quite beyond the reach of reprisals. 

A good loser. Gay was a poor winner. Perhaps it was philosoph- 
ical indifference to the gauds of success ; perhaps his energies were 
destructive, a Benjamin's portion, effective only in battle-shock. Be 
this as it may, once an affair was on the highway to prosperity, 
Gay stood back, follow the sequence who would ; so losing that in- 
tangible thing which comes of advantage pressed and repeated suc- 
cesses — prestige, the confidence of others — which makes an ordinary 
man formidable and a strong one great. 

Cutler had been speaking of an acquaintance of them both in 
Alaska. 

"No," said Gay, thoughtfully, "I never really liked him. He was 
keen, witty, brilliant, resourceful, but he didn't win your confidence. 
You know what I mean. Not the man you would like to have at 
your back in a pinch. I wasn't sure of him — not as I would be of 
myself, you know." 

The undisguised self-valuation, the change of pronouns by which 
he declined to vouch for Cutler, was amusing. Yet, Cutler reflected, 
this very quality of steadfast sureness was the foundation of his 
own unacknowledged liking and regard. 

He recalled stories told of Gay in the dens and studies, vague, 
unsubstantiated, gleaned from far sources, told rarely, at propitious 
moments, to favored folk. Botha's grim laagers had known him, De 
Wet's forlorn hope. Indeed, for that knight-errantry he had only 
escaped the pedestal by caustic, malevolent Anti-Imperialism, shock- 
ing and unexpected. Older legends there were, of many lands — not 
al^yays wholly creditable. Of high-handed wild exploits in desert, 
jungle and polar wilds, to which you might deny your approval 
but not your admiration. 

One stood out clearly — earliest, best vouched-for. Last of the 
few surviving cattle-men in the bloody and disastrous Tonto Basin 
war, when his faction was dispersed, hopelessly beaten, his very 
steading burned, furrowed and sown with salt, the horse between 



130 OUT WEST 

his legs and the clothes on his back all that were left of his holdings, 
he had bidden Arizona characteristic farewell. Alone, in the full 
glare of noonday, he fared down to Solomonville, rode at a quiet 
footpace through the straggling street, thronged with his flushed 
and triumphant foes, passed on, unmolested, with no backward look, 
to the far-off busy world beyond. They stood in silent groups to 
watch him go till he was but a speck on the long horizon. So 
the story ran. 

Gay flicked the ash from his cigar. "Speaking of Alaska — it's a 
biggish country, but did you, by any chance, know Jim Hestwood? 
He was one of the first to find gold in the '90's." 

"Hestwood ? Why, I went to school with him in San Jose !" 

"What !" said Gay, for once fairly startled. "The old school ! 
Man ! It's good to see you ! Why, so did I !" 

They were leaning over the table flushed, laughing, pumping at 
each other's hands. 

"To think we've been acquainted all these years and never 
known !" said Cutler, in pleasant excitement. "Why, I know you, 
of course. You were before my time. You're Harry Gay! And 
I never guessed it !" He sang, liltingly : 

"Some one stole my heart away. 
Walking down in San Jose ; 
He looked up and I looked down — 
Handsome, sun-burned Harry Gay !" 

"A foolish old song — made in derision," said the older man, 
smiling. Cutler remembered when he had heard it sung — not in 
derision — but checked himself mid-word. 

Gay looked at him, considering. "I see. It was when you went 
West to build up your health. I hadn't heard of any Californian 
episode. It couldn't have been long." 

"It wasn't," rejoined Cutler. "I was a Special, making up on 
subjects where I lagged — so I could enter Harvard unconditioned. 
Your name was still one to conjure with. If the stories they told 
were only half true — " 

Gay put the question of himself aside with a waved hand. 

"Heaven lies about us in our infancy and everybody keeps it up. 
Never mind. The boys — tell me about the boys," he demanded, 
eagerly. 

Volleyed question and answer, broken by mutual comment and 
reminder. "Good man !" "Wise old owl ! Venerable sage he at 
eighteen." "Good old George!" 

"... Burrows, Denyes, Cavano, Clute, Casad ..." 
At the name which followed, a shade fell heavily over Gay's face. 
"He was my nearest friend. He was with me in Arizona. If he 



THE TORCH 131 

had lived . . . perhaps ..." He roused himself with 
an effort. The shadow did not wholly pass away. 

To us, their talk would have been a meaningless list of names, a 
new Catalogue of the Ships, tedious as last year's directory. To 
them it was eloquence unparalleled, glowing, vivid, brilliant; under 
whose splendid sway dry bones rose breathing, clothed in flesh and 
blood and youthful fire, radiant with the one imperishable charm. 
Yet Homer knew his trade. So sparkled that same dull Catalogue 
to listening Greeks, whose kindred manned those ships. 

Laughing happily, they kept that eager roll-call, with pledge and 
greeting to each summoned face. Unnoted, the clock made its 
treadmill round. At one name Cutler's face took on a cynical ex- 
pression. Before he could speak. Gay held up his hand. 

"Don't tell me !" he said. "Let me remember them as they were 
— at their best. After all, who dares say the best self is not the 
true self? Let me keep my Table Round — unbroken. ... I 
was there two years — the happiest of my life. Not one care, not 
one unhappy moment. I was straight from the uttermost desert, 
you know. A man grown — twenty-two years old. And I had 
never had any boyhood. I crowded it into those two years." 

Cutler could scarce believe his ears. Gay, the silent, was grown 
voluble, autobiographical, making free use of the "first person per- 
pendicular." The deep lines of his face were smoothing away, the 
stem eyes lit with rare enthusiasm, smiling at inner happy thoughts. 
In this softened mood of unsuspected loveableness, there was an 
indefinable suggestion of truce, of conflict deferred ; as when Hector 
lays his helmet by, and gives himself to the hour. 

So absorbed were they — Gay in his memories, Cutler intent on 
Gay himself — that more than once little groups had paused to look 
at the picture in the quiet alcove — Cutler's sunny charm, the other's 
dark and restful strength. 

"I suppose few men ever have as good a time as I did there. 
Two years, and not one moment to regret. Then I went away. I 
don't know why. I suppose I was a fool. But I'm glad of it — 
glad!" he said, with fierce energy. "Something might have spoiled 
it. I never went back. Think of it. Cutler — how I must have en- 
joyed every moment! I was always an omniverous reader, but 
for those two years I did not read one book or magazine — hardly a 
paper. Living took all my time. I had attained my majority at 
the age of thirteen. At least I have done man's work ever since, 
I had never known any boys. Just rough men. I went there with 
a boy's unspoiled capacity to enjoy, a man's sense to feel how fleeting 
it must be. I had my youth in one deep, priceless draught. . . . 
I studied — of course. That was what I went there for. Hestwood 



132 OUT WEST 

was the brightest of us, then Johnny Newells — but I think I had 
my lessons better, more thoroughly, than any of them. They in- 
terested me." It was said so simply that the boast passed un- 
noticed. 

"And so the old school is happened upon evil days — standing in 
Stanford's shadow? Well, she turned out some good men. There 
must have been as high ability there as in any of the big colleges. It 
is given to only a few to really do things. But there are always 
men to do them when need arises. A good many more mute, in- 
glorious Miltons than we know of, I imagine. It's not wasted. 
They hand it on. Like the old Greek relay races — you remember? 
You didn't only have to run; you must pass on an unquenched 
torch." 

He rose and buttoned his coat. Fronting Cutler across the table, 
he raised his glass. Some of the wine was spilled. "The school !" 
he said, in a voice low and quiet. "The school — and our dead !" 

Cutler was tolerably hard-headed. His foes had never called 
him sentimental. But his glass, with Gay's, crashed tinkling to 
the floor, to serve for no unworthier toast. 

Cutler had started first. Remembering something, he came back. 
Gay was seated again at the table. The shadow was deep upon him. 
His mouth was twisted, as from pain, his eyes brooding on the 
spilt wine. Cutler tiptoed away. 

When next he tapped at Gay's door, he had gone, leaving no 
token. Months slipped by, became years, and New York knew him 
no more. 



The Powers that Were had made tentative advances to Cutler con- 
cerning his nomination for important office. They had been guard- 
edly explicit. There was no doubt whatever, they kindly said, as 
to his ability. But there had been an untraced rumor, a breath, 
that Cutler held impracticable, academic views on some abstract 
matters. They hoped Cutler was safe and sane. They sincerely 
trusted that his position was such as to cause no uneasiness in 
business quarters, no unsettlement of existing conditions. If Cutler 
could give assurance that he was not inimical to the best interests 
of prosperity, the matter might be regarded as settled. 

Cutler saw plainly that, so backed, this foot-hold could be made 
a stepping-stone to higher honors. Opportunity knocked at his 
door. This was the beginning of a career which might lead him 
far. 

Yet he was not quite satisfied. There was an uneasy twinge, a 
feeling hard to put into words. Of course, the great interests would 



THE TORCH 133 

grind down opposition, as always, whether he went for or against 
them. If not himself, then another. Better himself than another, 
since he saw existing evils clearly. He would be in a position to 
soften policies, to show favor and mercy. Doubtless there was 
some inequality, a slight tipping of the scales. But after all, we were 
all so much better off than were our grandfathers. There were so 
many to divide the burden that the individual share was unnotice- 
ably small. Oh, very small ! Rome was not built in a day. Com- 
promise, concession, was the law of progress. He would use his 
power well — as a trust. 

He dressed and went to a dinner — a very select dinner indeed — 
given in honor of a world-renowned Explorer. 

Having been introduced to the Lion of the Hour, and seated 
between two friends whose intimacy allowed inattention, Cutler let 
his thoughts stray to the day's problem, and at last gave free rein 
to thought and fancy. 

When the coffee was served he was roused from his reverie. The 
humming, busy voices slackened to silence ; the guests were listening 
to the Explorer. With a start, Cutler fixed his attention. 

"... Western slope of the Andes," the Explorer was say- 
ing. "They tell the story to all new-comers. I was at some pains 
to get at the facts, because he was rather in my line, and because I 
knew the man. In his way, he was quite remarkable. He had dis- 
tinction of a certain sort. An Adventurer. Some of you must have 
known him. Gay — Harry Gay?" 

Cutler stiffened with a shock. The persistent past tense became 
ominous, sinister. He leaned forward. His lips were suddenly dry. 
It was a relief when someone further down said indifferently, "Yes, 
I knew him." The Explorer went on. 

"It was quite characteristic of the confident vanity of the man, his 
appalling self-sufficiency, that he set about the conquest of this virgin 
peak alone, without preparation or plan. He was about to attempt 
it, so it appears, many years before. But one of the chronic revolu- 
tions occurred. He had word that some of his friends were involved, 
and gave up the climb. It seems he had not abandoned his purpose, 
however. . . . Oh, no — he had no personal interest in the 
political side of it — to be just. He was no filibuster, on this occa- 
sion, at least. Just sticking to his friends, after his lights. I put 
in some time getting the straight of it." 

It was evident that it was to be a good story. Evident, too, that 
the Explorer relished the telling of it, the opportunity of getting 
in the lime-light, with insufferable complacency. Cutler listened 



134 OUT WEST 

eagerly — "Sticking to his friends, after his lights." Vaguely, the 
phrase troubled him, though he could not see why. 

"Well — the revolution failed. His friends were all killed. I 
believe he was quite the Paladin. I had it from the other side, 
too. The old Captain who told me — rather a high official now — 
spoke of him with much respect and regret, gnawing at his grizzled 
mustaches the while. And, though he did not say so, I fancy that 
they rather connived at his escape. They didn't let Gay know. He 
thought he had a narrow squeak of it. 

"Half a life-time later, he strolls casually into the village on the 
hill-foot and announces that he is to climb the mountain to see 
how it looked from up there. 

"The naturales tried to dissuade him, as they did me afterwards. 
No one could reach the top; many had tried and failed — or per- 
ished. There seemed to be some superstitious terror mixed up 
with it. Of course, he didn't listen. Determined beggar. . . . 
Did I climb it? Oh, yes. But we were fully prepared and took 
our time. When we came to a ticklish bit, we drilled holes and 
put in ropes. Made stations, you know, and got up as far as we 
could before the final spurt. Yet I don't say the fellow wouldn't 
have made it, if he had gone alone. Yes, and said nothing about 
it afterwards, either. I'm not denying him efficiency. To my cer- 
tain knowledge, he has done harder stunts." 

Cutler remembered Gay as he had seen him that last night at 
the Falcon, with his softened mood upon him — already, had he 
but known it, Outward Bound — to the Great Adventure. He 
began to hate the Explorer. As if he had strangely become pos- 
sessed of the Touchstone of Truth, which makes things seem what 
they are, he saw the Explorer's shallow soul, selfish, spiteful, swollen. 
His sudden assumption of the modest "we" became an affectation 
hardly to be borne. He was making Gay's name a stalking-horse, 
that himself might shine brighter by comparison. His purring, 
punctilious, belittling "justice" became an unbelievable and mon- 
strous thing. This Hero of two Worlds grudged, envied — not 
Harry Gay's fame, for fame he had not, but what he was; resented 
bitterly that the other man had been above the grasping ambition 
that mastered himself. The unconscious self-revelation was in- 
decent. He even grudged Gay his, the Explorer's own opinion. 

"At last they prevailed upon him to wait until they could send 
after el irlandes — a week to the south. He would doubtless be 
glad to join the adventure; he was quite mad. (You find them 
everywhere — these Irishmen.) This one was prospecting — for 
quicksilver, I believe. From what I could find out he seems to 
have been quite the usual active, automatic, brainless, undifferen- 



THE TORCH 135 

tiated biped. , . . They got some Peruvians to go along for 
pack-animals, as high up as they could coax or drive them, and 
to remain there till their return. Gay had an extra spy-glass. He 
left that with old Atanacio, the jefe, and told him to keep an eye 
on them. 

"There was a severe storm the first day and they huddled in 
camp. It cleared that night. Gay and Conner — did I tell you his 
name? — started at dawn. They expected to make the summit and 
back to some sheltered spot, spend the night there, and return to 
camp early the next day." 

The Explorer had attempted no description. But Cutler saw 
the mountains — forbidding, vast, gloomy, savage, cruel. Because 
his senses were quickened and his mind vividly pictured out the 
story, he granted the Explorer — grudgingly — the gift of words. 
But that other, his dead friend — that was the man of deeds. His 
friend. He had not thought of him that way ; but he knew it now. 
. . . ''Not the man you would like to have at your back in a 
pinch. I wasn't sure of him — not as I would be of myself, you 
know." A boast — but he had made it good. With the premonition 
of disaster came the high certainty that his friend had not failed 
himself. Whatever came. Gay had been sure. . . . This 
Lion's ostentatious, abnegating modesty — Pah! 

"They made slow progress, Atanacio told me, with many 
doublings and turnings back. Of course they should have estab- 
lished a station much higher up before making their dash. The 
morning came off clear and warm. Later it clouded over. Gay 
and Conner were going faster. Towards noon they passed out of 
sight behind a shoulder. I fancy the natives all turned to for 
comida. Naturally, they wouldn't admit it. Anyhow, Atanacio 
couldn't spot them for some time. All dark and cloudy, you know. 
It was past one when he saw them in a little sunny patch, where 
the clouds were broken. They were roped together, of course — 
about twenty feet apart. They had been skirting a narrow, icy 
ledge around a precipice. Conner had fallen. Gay had his feet 
braced, clutching a rock with his hands — Conner hanging by the 
rope. Of course, the Peruvians didn't know how long they had 
been there. Through the glass they could see that one of Conner's 
arms was limp and useless, broken by the fall. Beneath, the un- 
imaginable abyss. 

"Gay clung to the rock with one hand, and threw off his pack 
with the other. Conner, below, got rid of his. Atanacio says that 
Gay's feet seemed to be on a particularly sloping and slippery part 
of the ledge. Of course, when I looked the ground over, I couldn't 
place the exact spot; but it must have been so, for Gay was an 



136 OUT WEST 

unusually powerful man. With a level square foot to stand on, he 
would have pulled the Irishman up, big man though he was. 

"Three times he made the attempt; three times his feet slipped. 
He only saved himself by a lightning-swift clutch at that knob of 
rock. To drop the rope, with Conner's weight on it, after he felt 
himself going, straighten up, and catch the rock in time — good 
work! / know! And it must have weakened him terribly. . . . 
Atanacio was dripping with sweat, crying aloud, calling on the 
Saints — O yes, I've forgotten to tell you — the Peruvians seem to 
be much like other folks after all. With one look through the glass, 
forgetting their fears and superstitions, they made ofif to the rescue, 
hot foot. All except Atanacio. He was so old that it was out of 
the question for him. Gay had brought him along for the sake 
of discipline. He was the jefe — headman, you know. They made 
good climbing, too. Of course they benefited by avoiding all the 
no-thoroughfares Gay had tried. 

"After the third trial — when they nearly went over and Gay 
could hardly get his feet back on the ledge — they gave up that 
hope, and waited. In that clear, dry air Atanacio could see them 
plainly. Conner was waving his arm, and seemed to be talking 
vehemently to Gay. Always, Atanacio says, Gay shook his head. 
I haven't a doubt but that Conner was urging him to cut the rope, 
and Gay refusing. They found Gay's knife on him, but not Con- 
ner's. Probably it had slipped from the scabbard when he first 
fell, and had lodged part way down." 

Cutler's scalp and skin prickled, his blood ran cold and tingling. 
Suddenly, he began to be aware that the story had some indefinite 
bearing on his own case. . . . Concession? Compromise? 
The naked truth flashed on him blindingly. Surrender! weak, 
pitiable surrender! Not even that! He had the sensation of hav- 
ing shrieked. God! He was being bought with a price! . , . 
"Who dares say the best self is not the true self?" O good friend, 
torch-bearer, loyal and true ! . . . Never ! Never ! 

"Curious thing," said the Explorer, dreamily. "Gay had thrown 
ofif his pack, dropped the shod stave he used in lieu of alpenstock, 
to free himself for the desperate attempt to haul up his companion. 
Yet he kept the knife and belt. He could hardly have overlooked 
them. Did he think he might weaken at the last? Or did he 
deliberately look forward to beyond the last, when this mute witness 
should win him love and tears? I knew him, and I say, Unques- 
tionably the last. 

"The old fellow scraped up some bushes for a fire and made 
'smoke-talk' to Gay that help was coming, snatched up the glasses 
in his shaking hands, and looked. He could see that Gay nodded. 



. THE TORCH 137 

The Irishman waved his good arm. . . He — Conner, I 
mean — twisted slowly round with the rope. So the cUff must have 
over-hung here so far that he could not touch it to stop the twisting. 

"Help was coming, but it would be long. It was two miles off — 
one of the miles up — and a hard climb. The men on the cliff were 
very still. The clouds grew heavier, darker, but Atanacio says that 
not once was that patch of sunlight crossed. The little break through 
the clouds followed the declining sun. It sank fast." 

Cutler saw him, could almost touch him. The crimson glow was 
on him. The strong face was confident, unperplexed, unhesitant. 
. . . How m.any times the one must have cried out, For God's 
sake, to make an end. That it was useless. That he could not 
hold on. Not to throw away his life vainly. Better for one to 
die than two; and the other had smiled back his answer. . . . 
How he had clung to the memory of his old school friends — each 
as he knew them, with the yet untarnished honor of young man- 
hood ". . . Let me keep my Table Round unbroken." . . . 
Such a man might do evil — even great evil. But, he to choose life 
with shame? 

"Four hours. It is long even to sit still, warm and safe, without 
occupation. Long to those who clambered, slipped and fell. It 
must have been long indeed to poor Atanacio, waiting in agony, 
wringing his hands with futile curses and prayers, helpless, crying 
for his lost youth and strength. What was it to the one who, 
protesting, saw a life lost hopelessly for him, unable to prevent it; 
to Gay, chilled, cramped, stiffening, failing under the dreadful 
strain ? 

"The sun was low. The rescuers were not in sight. They knew 
now that it was impossible for help to come before dark. (In 
fact, the natives stayed on the hill-flank that night, a third of a 
mile below.) Gay decided to try to walk along that treacherous 
slope, till he could win to a place where he could find sure footing, 
and try again to drag the Irishman up to safety. . . It was 
like the man not to have waited the end in passiveness. It was 
like the man, again, having the choice, with equal danger, to go 
forward or to go back for his slender chance, to have gone forward. 
"Atanacio saw him kicking, first one leg and then the other, to 
restore the circulation. Then he started ; creeping under the double 
weight, resting, inching, stooping to lift the rope around jutting 
comers of rock; fingers clinging to knob and crevice and tiny 
ledge; firm foot and hand and eye, in sure co-ordination, wrought 
his resolute bidding. He came at last where there was no slightest 
hand-hold. Before, a narrow hand-breadth of sloping shelf in the 
glassy granite; beyond, the scant level, a table's width, that was 



138 OUT WEST 

their one chance — chance enough for such a man, once reached. 
Pausing a bare moment, Atanacio said, with one brief downward 
look at his comrade, he turned his face to the cliff, with arms 
outstretched and flattened palms pressed along the seamless polished " 
wall. Steadily — slowly — unhesitating; one step — two — three steps. 
Half-way ! Another step begun — and they whirled down the im- 
measurable gulf — so far, they seemed to fall slowly. ... At 
once, as if it had been waiting, the storm came roaring, shrieking, 
bellowing down." 

No one spoke. The very lights were lifeless, misty and pale. 
Had anyone entered, in the stillness — to see those pale-faced beau- 
ties, those motionless men, silent, staring at the terrible, the fire, 
at nothing, never at each other — he would have thought the days 
of granarye come again, with knight and princess castle-bound in 
age-long enchantment. 

The Explorer spoke again. There was a vast sigh, followed by 
whisperings and rustlings. 

"Of course, the simple-minded natives have made him hero and 
demi-god. Remember, they had read nothing, seen nothing. He 
was their one touch of Romance — the unknown. Even without 
the final tragedy, he was a superior man of a superior race. What- 
ever his faults, the force of the man would have impressed any 
one. Any of you, meeting him once, would have remembered him. 
And he was already a sort of tradition, mind, because of his part 
in their old, petty wars. Why, they even went so far as to change 
the name of the mountain. The one it had before was sonorous, 
grandiose, many-syllabled. They call it now, quite simply. La 
cima del Homhre — ^the Mountain of The Man. Rather a tremen- 
dous compliment, that. 

"It took them nearly a week to win their way into that sunless 
chasm and recover the bodies. That so indolent a people — lotus- 
eaters — did it at all, proves how deeply this alien had impressed 
them. 

"So his grave is already a shrine, where young lovers sit at 
twilight. They have made a cairn, to which every passer-by adds 
a stone. The next generation will enlarge upon his story. Per- 
haps in time he may become a myth. The local bard has harped 
him in soft, feminine, limpid Spanish — tender, double-rhymed, lin- 
gering, caressing. They set it to dreary, haunting, shuddery music, 
repeating each verse in weird minors, after their fashion (like Bib- 
lical poetry, you know), and wail it at the moon. . . . It is 
what he would have wished. It would have pleased him. Vanity 
was the key-note of the man. 

"I know him long and well. He had talent — I don't say that 
he hadn't even genius. He might have won distinction (if he could 
have submitted himself to law, convention, propriety) in almost 
any line. But like Coriolanus, he would not humble himself to 
strive, to ask. It pleased him better to assume that he might have 




. THE TORCH 

done thus-and-so — what he willed — had he cared. Not that he 
was afraid of defeat. He knew what that was. Only, he felt so 
intensely that what he zvas, intrinsically, was better than what he 
might do, or its reward. Vanity — call it pride, if you like — was his 
ruling passion. 

"Take the final scene, from its rash inception to the inconceivable 
folly of its tragic end. With experienced associates and reasonable 
precaution, the risk would have been neglible." 

("By George!" whispered Van Alstyne. "The fellow's actually 
sore because t'other man didn't advertise, or build a trolley-line up 
the hill.") 

"Then, the finis. Absurd. Quixotic madness ! Having done 
all that was humanly possible, it was useless, worse than useless, 
to throw away his own life. He was a brilliant man, who might, 
once he settled down, have been of real use to mankind. The other 
fellow — Conner — was a hewer of wood. To exhaust the possi- 
bilities of saving him was commendable enough. But, after the 
first. Gay could have had no real hope — only stubbornness. Not one 
chance in ten million. And the last attempt — I have seen the place, 
I tell you. It was, in his weakened condition, impossible. Im- 
possible ! The other man saw it. But his vanity — his own self- 
estimate — would not let him save himself. The man might have 
made anything of his life, I tell you — and he chose to throw it 
away rather than to act ungracefully. A Grand-stand play — to an 
empty stand ! To paraphrase, 'It was magnificent, but " 

Cutler found himself on his feet. "We will not modify it," he 
said harshly. "It is the right word. He was sure of himself. He 
kept the faith." 

The buzzing ceased. Curious faces turned upon him. Cutler 
was visibly trembling, but he felt no shame. 

"His standards were different from ours — possibly lower. 
. . . I do not know. . . . Such as they were, he lived 
up to them. He died for them. Would we — for ours? . . . 
Magnificent. We thank him." 

It was "Good Society." Yet they sided with the dead man. A 
transient emotion, doubtless, but a generous one. A little shame- 
facedly, a little half-heartedly, they fell away and left the Explorer 
silent and neglected. 

Van Alstyne even ventured an epigram. "Evidently," he said, 
"the — the wandering gentleman thought it better to be a dead lion 
than — a living one." The slender jest thrived, the better for its 
poisoned barb. So Harry Gay was remembered — nine days. 

In the street. Cutler dismissed his cab and walked home through 
the crisp chill of October. His step was firm and swift and strong, 
the eager blood ran free and exultant in his veins. For the "op- 
portunity," his lost "career," he had not one thought. In a de- 
serted space he sang in undertone — not sadly: 

"Handsome, sunburned Harry Gay!" 

He paused, his head thrown back. In the star-light, his face 
wore the high look of one who accepts a trust — as if he crossed 
glances with one invisible, with challenge and promise. 

How well that trust was kept will be remembered long. 

Apalachin, N. Y. 



140 



THE HASH AVRASTLEK 

(The old cow-puncher speaks.) 

By SHARLOT M. HALL. « 

/^F course, the boss he carries some weight, 
Vi^ Tho' the owner's a figger-head. 
Handy fer signin' checks an' sich 

(The Lord in his pity makes some folks rich — 
Fortune at best's a skittish bitch. 
As '11 neither be drove er led — 
An' "a fool fer luck" is a standin' rule, 
Which I reckon Solomon said.) 

There's some as growed on the'r own home range, 

An' some as was vented young; 
An' I've knowed buckaros as can't be beat 

That wrastled the Greaser tongue; 
An' there's now an' agin a Tenderfoot 

The cinches don't seem to rub ; 
But the man that the outfit hitches to 

Is the man that hustles the grub. 

It ain't no cinch in the summer time 

To tighten a hungry belt. 
When yer horse is lathered an' steamin' hot. 

An' ye think ye'r goin' to melt; 
But that ol' chuck-wagon's a bigger throne 

Than the Czar of Rushy owns, 
When you've punched a blizzard from dark to dark, 

An' the marrer chilled in yer bones. 

Yer chaps is froze to the saddle skirts, 

An' the froth on yer bridle white; 
An' the sigh that ye let it ain't no bluff 

When that camp-fire heaves in sight; 
An' ye watch him grab up the coffee-pot 

An' rattle the lid like sin. 
An' holler away to beat the band : 

"Grub pile! Fa-all in! Fa-all in!" 

It's then that ye know yer friend o' friends, 

An' that wrastler gits his due — 
In cussin' an' sich — fer a haloed saint 

Couldn't cook to suit the crew. 
It's "Slushy, say, ye'r off yer base — 

Them biskits is dough inside; 
Did ye bile the critter that Noah milked? 

Or only her horns an' hide?" 



THE HASH WRASTLBR 141 

"Stove?" Oh, sure! a hole in the ground 

On the leeward side o' the camp ; 
The end-gate dropped fer a kneadin' board, 

An' some grease an' rag fer a lamp; 
But his kittles was slammin' by three o'clock, 

Along with the boss's snore, 
A-knowin' we'd polish his skillets clean 

An' yell possessed fer more. 

There was me an' Jim an' Otero's kid, 

I reckon we didn't make 
That wrastler's life one shinin' round 

Of lemon-pie an' cake ; 
But he paid us off as slick an' clean 

As ever a debt was paid; 
An' I lay if our pull was better Beyond, 

He'd git some boot on the trade. 

The Spring rodear was all but done. 

An' the beef steers waitin' to ship. 
When it looked like the kid an' me an' Jim 

Was booked fer a longer trip. 
Small-pox — an' the way them boys lit out 

Was worse'n the worst stampede 
Of buffaloed steers on a rainy night, 

The ol' Trail ever seed. 

All but that lank-jawed slinger o' pots — 

That blamed hash-wrastlin' fool — 
"I'm runnin' this camp — you 'tend to biz," 

He says, as stiddy an' cool 
As a chunk of ice on a Christmas tree— ' 

An' I reckon we didn't dispute; 
Fer the kid an' me was as crazy as loons, 

An' Jim on the cut an' shoot. 

He tied Jim up with a hackamore, 

An' he pulled the three of us through ; 
But, Hell ! when I think o' the way things went — 

An' him — I feel plumb blue; 
Fer that same disease jist doused his glim 

As quick as you'd holler "Scat!" 
Jist cut him out, an' afore he knew 

He was gone like the drop of a hat. 

"The boys is comin' " he says, quite wild, 

"An' them beans ain't seasoned right; 
Ap' Jim '11 kick at the bread, an' say 

The coffee's a holy fright ; 
You tell 'em," — he fingered the kiverlid. 

An' his words come choked an' thin — 
"Reddy jist to the minit, bovs — 

Grub pile! Fa-all in! Fa-all in!" 
Dewey, Arizona. 




142 

pe:tra del campo 

By WALLACE GILLPATRICK. 
|HEN Petra's father gave her to Ismael she did not know 
the meaning of love, save love for her family — which 
meant service. 

Petra was sixteen. 
Ismael was fifty. 

Her father was a poor man, and in Mexico this is saying more 
than in many countries — or less. All Petra's father called his own 
was the small adobe hut that sheltered him and his five children, and 
thre patch of corn and beans that fed them. Sometimes the crops 
were good, and he carried a few measures of corn over the moun- 
tains, and exchanged them for coarse, unbleached cotton cloth, from 
which Petra made the garments for the family. Occasionally he 
added to his purchase a square of thick cow-hide, from which he 
cut sandals for himself. His children went unshod. 

Petra was beautiful like the azucena, the pale mountain flower 
that grows alone amid the barren rocks. She was not dark, like 
the other children, but ivory-white. Her face was pure and sweet 
as the face of the Virgin ; her dark hair gleamed red, when the sun 
touchd it, and was fine as silk ; her hands and feet were small and 
slender, with blue tracings clearly defined beneath the satiny skin. 
The blood of Araby and Andalucia is persistent in Mexico. 

From the moment Ismael saw Petra he wanted her; and, with 
Ismael, to want a thing was to have it. 

He was a small, sinewy, tiger-like man, with the springy tread 
of a mountain-cat, a bullet-shaped head, the clear-cut features of 
a high-class Hindu, and the yellow-bronze coloring. Ismael's eyes 
were black and fathomless as a Mexican night without stars. Is- 
mael, himself, was impenetrable. You might talk with him for 
hours, but there was no getting back of those eyes. Still, he was 
famed throughout the mountain-district as sober and laborious. 
He was a bullion-freighter; he owned many mules, and carried the 
silver bars to the coast, from the rich mines owned by the Ameri- 
cans. But while he repaid their trust with good service, there was 
always an evanescent something in his manner that savored more 
of condescension than of seeking. 

Ismael's life had been devoted to his family. When a boy of 
twelve, he had shouldered the burden of a man. His father and 
mother had perished, the year of the great cholera, leaving him and 
a host of younger children, with only the old aunt, Blasa, to grind 
the corn for the tortillas. Ismael manfully oflfered to provide the 
corn, and he was as good as his word. 

The years flew and Ismael prospered. He bought first two mules, 
then one more, and kept adding to his train, until at last he became 



PETRA DEL CAMPO 143 

the richest "freighter" in that part of the country. He built a sub- 
stantial house in the mountains, of stone and adobe, with corral and 
stable for his animals, and finally, to return thanks to his gods, a 
tiny chapel, with bell of pure silver, where the priest came regularly 
once a year. 

Gradually Ismael's brothers and sisters married and went to homes 
of their own, always generously endowed by Ismael, until only he 
and old Blasa were left, with one other — Celso, the orphan son of 
a favorite compadre, who had become as his own, and whom he 
called Ahijado, meaning God-son. 

Ismael was sad. He saw the homes of his brothers filled with 
dark-eyed, red-cheeked children, while his own was lonely. 

One day he stopped to talk with Petra's father — he was on his 
way to the coast — and Petra brought him some water to drink. With 
quick appreciation for female loveliness, he saw the grace of the 
slim, girlish shape — the pure beauty of the tender face. 

"It is a good girl, and beautiful," he said, following her with 
pleased eyes, as she timidly withdrew. "How will you give her to 
me?" 1 

It had been a poor year with Petra's father. The corn was low 
in the bin, and there were scarcely any beans. The second girl was 
almost large enough to take Petra's place, and it would mean one 
mouth less to feed. Beside, Ismael was rich, and in these parts when 
a man takes a wife, he not only provides the wedding-garments and 
the wedding-feast, but he also makes a considerable present to the 
parents ; and when he happens to be rich and the bride's father is 
poor, the bride young and beautiful and he old, the possibilities as 
to the size of the gift are incalculable. 

"Take her if she pleases you," said the father diplomatically. He 
knew he would fare well if he relied wholly on Ismael's munificence. 
And so it was settled. 

When Ismael passed that way again, returning home, one of his 
mules bore a woman's saddle. 

Petra did not go quite willingly, but she had been taught only to 
obey. Love for a husband was to her a myth. She was dazzled by 
the abundance already flowing into the family larder, and not less, 
perhaps, by the fine, flowered calicos, the silken rebozo, the ribbons, 
the rainbow-tinted necklace, yes — and the shoes. She saw happi- 
ness shining from the faces of the others, and mistook it for her own 
She embraced each brother and sister, and cried a little; she em- 
braced her father and kissed his hand in token of continued 
obedience. 

"Let us go," she said, turning to Ismael with her eyes lowered; 
so Ismael lifted her* onto her mule, and they rode away, Petro cover- 
ing her face with her rebozo. 



144 OUT WEST 

When a mountain man takes a wife to his home he does not talk 
to her. What is there to talk about? Both know the mountains as 
dwellers in cities know the town. Every tree, bush, and herb, 
whether poisonous or good, and all the creatures of the forest they 
know. They feel and love the beauty of the mountains, dimly, for 
when they are taken away from them they sicken and are sad; but 
they seldom speak of it because there is no need. 

So Ismael rode in silence, save when he addressed his men, or 
spoke a low word of encouragement to the mules. There would be 
enough to tell his wife after they were married, and her duties had 
begun. 

And Petra rode in silence, and began to feel afraid. 

It was long after sunset and the night-air was cold when they 
reached Ismael's mountain eyrie, and saw a bright fire burning be- 
fore the door, and the witch-like apparition of old Blasa silhouetted 
against the flame, as she heaped on dry branches. 

The crone received Petra with open arms and the kiss of a female 
Judas. She had ruled Ismael's house too long to endure a rival ; but 
Petra, poor child, was too disturbed by the strangeness of everything 
to note the malignant eye of old Blasa. She ate a mouthful of sup- 
per, and was thankful to lie down on the rude bed of skins in a cor- 
ner of the room. Then she prayed the blessed Virgin to be with her 
and fell asleep. 

The next morning the priest arrived — he had ridden for five days 
on mule-back — and they were married in the chapel, with Blasa and 
the mule-drivers looking on. So Petra became the wife of Ismael, 
not knowing the meaning of love. Gentle, submissive, pure as an 
angel, she yielded her husband the obedience she had hitherto yielded 
her father. That was all. 

Meantime old Blasa was busily planning how to get her out of 
the house. 

One week from the day of the wedding, Petra went, in the morn- 
ing, to put some azucenas on the chapel altar and pray. As she 
came out into the sunlight, she heard the bell of a lead-mare, and 
from the woods came a train of pack-mules, laden with corn. A 
young man ran beside them, calling out sharply to the laggards, re- 
straining those in front with soft, hissing sounds, and finally bunch- 
ing them, like sheep, before the stable door. It was Celso returned 
with corn from the lower rancho. 

Celso was stalwart, ruddy, and gray-eyed, with something like 
the calm of the mountains in his presence. In him, as in Petra, the 
blood of Spain had dominated the Indian. His skin was fair, his 
hair as light as a Saxon's, his bearing erect and proud. He was a 
Goth in unbleached cotton trousers, a peaceful Viking in straw 
sombrero and zerape. 



PETRA DEL CAMPO 145 

Until he saw Petra come through the chapel door into the sun- 
light, he had scarcely looked at a girl ; even now his thought was not 
mundane but religious. "She is Hke the Virgin," he muttered. They 
stood looking at each other, and in the breast of each there began 
to stir that which awaits only the spark that enters through the eyes. 

Old Blasa, who had come from the house, presented them. 

"This is your God-father's wife," she said dryly, eyeing him like 
a cat the while. 

Slowly, soberly Celso extended his hands, placing the right on 
Petra's left shoulder, the left at her side above the waist-line, while 
she timidly returned his formal embrace in kind. Thus he welcomed 
her to their family. 

"Celso Lopez, to serve you," he said, and Petra, "Petra del Campo, 
to serve you." 

Then she went with old Blasa to prepare the breakfast. She felt 
happy in her new home, for the first time, without knowing why, 
unless it was because this new brother had arrived. 

"Celso is a good boy and very handsome also," said Blasa, as she 
was patting the tortillas for Petra to bake them on the iron. "The 
girl who gets him for her husband will be a happy one." The hag 
glanced at Petra and saw that her face had clouded. 

Later she distilled a drop of poison for Celso's ear. 

"Your God-father is a kind man," she muttered — she was lighting 
her cigarro from Celso's — "but much too old for a child like her." 

To Ismael she complained that she was weary of seeing so many 
men about the place ; she feared the Americanos would think he had 
deserted them, and look for other freighters. This was the one thing 
needed to drive Ismael from the side of his bride of a week. The 
next morning, before dawn, he and his men were in the saddle. 

The days that followed were halcyon ones for Petra and Celso. 
Hand in hand they wandered over the mountain rancho. He showed 
her the lagoon where he bathed, the brook where he fished, the hill 
where he shot deer, the waterfall amid the pines where some day 
he would build him a house. And Petra said, many times, "Oh 
Celso, it is all so beautiful !" 

At night they sat by the fire, before the house, and Celso related 
his adventures in the mountains ; how when the white mists came 
down and hid the trail, and he within calling distance of the rancho, 
he had lost his way and wandered far into the woods, until he heard 
the cry of wolves and was afraid for his mules. 

Then Petra sang a song she had heard when she was a little child, 
a wild, sweet, Indian love-song, full of complaint and longing : 
"I want to love — I need a soul. 
Ardent, like the noonday sun. 
To flame and burn with mine, 
Forever in infinite love." 



146 OUT WESl 

Her voice, which had the sad inflections peculiar to the voices of 
her people, sounded strange to her ; she seemed singing this song for 
the first time, yet she had sung it all her Hfe, as she had another that 
Celso had never heard before : 

"They say that in these mountains there should be 
Many tigers, many lions for the chase ;" 

So Celso must sing a song that Petra had never heard, about a 
sailor, drowned at sea ; to the lonely wife, wandering on the shore, 
comes a wave moaning the message of his doom. It was full of the 
longing and the dread of the mountains for the sea ; and of the sor- 
row and loneliness of mountain-people. 

That night, in her dreams, Petra saw Celso's face in the fire-light, 
which surged like the waves and became blood-red ; he was singing, 
and when he finished his song he leaned and kissed her lips. 

And Celso sat dumbly staring at the fire until sleep drugged his 
strong body, and he dropped down by the fire and slept until day- 
break. 

Directly after breakfast, Celso started for the lower rancho, and 
as he and his mules were swallowed up by the woods, Petra sud- 
denly called after him with shrill, sweet voice, "Celso" — but he did 
not hear. It was as though her heart had been torn from her body, 
and she was mad to have it again. The dream was so real ! Celso 
had kissed her on the lips, yet now he went, scarcely looking, saying 
only "Adios." As she stood staring at the gloomy pines, old Brasa 
toucher her with a skinny finger. 

"What is it, my life?" she whined, and Petra, with this new and 
terrible sorrow, turned to the only woman near and cried, "Oh, 
Blasa, for one kiss from Celso's lips I gladly would die !" 

An hour later Ismael rode into the corral, and before he had the 
saddle ofif his horse, Blasa, hag of hell, told him what Petra had 
said. 

It is bad to rouse the tiger in a man, especially if he is a semi- 
oriental. The crone cowered before Ismael's eyes, which were like 
coals of fire. 

"Where is Celso?" 

He did not snarl — yet — it was almost a purr. 

"He has gone to the lower rancho," said Blasa. 

Ismael quietly entered the house, embraced Petra, and gave her 
the gifts he had brought from the store of the Americanos. At 
night, when Celso returned, Ismael said he was weary, and left his 
wife and godson together before the fire. And Blasa, seeing that 
matters were prolonging to her liking, pretended to be busy in the 
kitchen. So the tiger watched from one part of the darkened house, 
the cat from the other. What chance have a boy and girl, who un- 



PETRA DEL CAMPO 147 

consciously have entered paradise, against a jealous husband of fifty, 
and a she-devil of seventy? 

The next morning Ismael left with his mules for the coast, to be 
gone, he said, a week. And Celso, who still had much corn to bring 
from the lower rancho, departed in the opposite direction. 

All day Petra could think of nothing but Celso — Celso. She heard 
his step in every sound in the forest. Still he did not come. She 
and Blasa ate supper, and after they had cleared the table, leaving 
only a portion of frijoles and tortillas for Celso, they went as usual 
to the fire. The moon had risen over the pines, and the clearing 
about the house was bright as day. Beyond it loomed the forest, 
through which Celso must come from the lower rancho. 

The few Indian servants were asleep in their huts back of the 
corral. Everywhere was silence. Blasa was fascinated, watching 
the entranced face of Petra, whose every sense had merged into that 
of hearing. She was listening — listening — for Celso. 

What she heard, first, was the scramble of mules' feet over the 
rocks — then Celso's sharp, piercing whistle — then his voice — "Sh-h-h 
— mula bonita !" 

As the mules emerged from the blackness into the light, Petra 
sprang up and ran toward them. She and Celso came together on 
the edge of the moonlit clearing, and then the inevitable — Petra was 
in Celso's arms and he had kissed her lips — Blasa swears he kissed 
her — but before he could lift his head, a dark form sprang upon 
them. Blasa knew it for Ismael's. She saw something glitter in 
the moonlight, and swiftly covered her head with her shawl, for she 
did not wish to see more. 

When Blasa uncovered her head, she heard the quick, receding 
gallop of a horse, and saw a dark heap lying in the moonlight. 

She waited until the hoof-beats died away, and then lifted her 
cracked voice in a wail, like the coyote's, bringing the Indians 
trembling from their huts. 

Blasa was crouching by the fire. 

Petra and Celso lay dead in each other's arms — so they thought — 
Celso with wide-open, wondering eyes staring at the sky, but when 
they tried to lift Petra, she clung to him, pressed her face closer 
against his, and died smiling. 

4c *   4e 

They buried them in one grave — not in consecrated ground, but 
without unclasping their arms. And Blasa wept, and proclaimed 
their innocence, and heaped imprecations on Ismael. 

Ismael was never seen again. Some said he had turned bandit, 
but that was false. Cruel he was, and a tiger, but not a thief. 

A mound of stones and a wooden cross mark the grave of Petra 
del Campo and Celso, her boy-lover, who died, not knowing the 
meaning of love. 

Their bodies rest beneath the pines. 

Their souls have gone in quest of what it was not given them here 
to know. 

New York City. 



148 




MY bodolinu field 

By LAURA MACK AY 

Y BOBOLINK field— it stretched away 

From the dune where climbed the rose and bay- 
Where the sun in its tangle burned so bright 
Over the edge of the dune at night 
When the day was done, to the dune in the east. 
Where the sun came up when he was released; 
And all that wide green field was mine, 
From the great sweet Giver of summer-time. 

My bobolink field ! There never grew 
Grasses more misty and deep, I knew; 
And every flower on the grassy lea 
Belonged to my bobolinks and me. 
I thought I knew where lightly hung 
Every nest that the grasses swung, 
And every nest that was built so low 
That surely none but a child could know ! 

The sky above was just for me. 

And mine the sound of the beating sea; 

And mine the sun, when I stood alone 

Stretching my hands to him going down. 

Smiling to him a wordless prayer 

For the child who played in the beauty there. 

Then, with my sun-bonnet off, I turned 

From the rose and bay where the sun had burned, 

To the shadowy gray of the distant sea, 

Where the day would soon come back for me ; 

And throwing a kiss in the shadowy light. 

I bid my bobolink field good night. 

My bobolink field — they came from town 
And burned the roses and wild bay down. 
They sold it in house-lots fenced and small. 
And ruined the great sweet peace of all. 
They must not have known how daisies shine, 
Nor have guessed that the bobolink field was mine ! 

Oh, my bobolinks ! through my tears 
I searched for you in those far-off years, 
And now when 1 hear you sing I know 
Some of the sweetness of long ago; 
And once again my heart is free 
In a wide green field by the sunlit sea. 
Cambridge, Mass. 




149 
A SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA GARDEN 

By HANNAH BURTON. 
T WAS the bewitching view which beguiled us into 
perching our bungalow on the hillside, just above 
where it drops steeply down into a ravine. It is on 
the other side of the ravine that the ascent of the 
foot-hills begins. Up and up they climb, until, on a 
gray day, they seem to reach the sky. Their green slope?? are 
dotted with evergreen old oaks, and, in the early Spring, the wild 
flowers run riot there in prodigal profusion. 

It is the endless change of coloring which makes the view so 
charming. The light and shade, leaden cloud, gray mist, blue haze, 
the rosy tint of dawning day, the golden glimmer of the westering 
sun, all reflected on the foot-hill slopes, and on the mountain 
peaks, which stand behind them like sentinels keeping watch over 
the little town nestling below — these all combine to make a change- 
ful picture of bewildering beauty. 

There is lots of fun in planning a new garden. Even a small 
one has great possibilities of pleasure in the making. Of course, 
we had an expert gardener to level and lay out the flower beds, 
walks and so forth. It is half the battle to have all this properly 
done at first. "Once well done, is twice done." 

Our gardener proved to be a treasure. Such an eye for levels as 
he had! and so thorough and exact in his work! I grew to have 
a great respect for him. It is refreshing to meet a man who is 
head and ears in love with his profession, as Crump certainly 
of bending over his work with the rake or hoe — it was as if he 
never had time to quite straighten himself. When walking with 
bent head, taking a long step and then a short one, with a sidewise 
motion, there was always a suggestion of raking or hoeing in his 
gait. His eyes were clear and keen, his honest face reminded one 
of a withered apple with its rosy color and its fine wrinkles. I 
confess he was somewhat stubborn. He naturally thought his way 
was the best way, and he would do no other — at least, not willingly. 
He carried his virtue of neatness to a painful extreme, especially 
in his own garden, where he had full sway. 

As our cottage was near the street, the lawn must be very tiny, 
but a little green expanse we must have, as a restful break from 
the dusty road. It was divided into two parts by a straight path 
of generous breadth, leading from the street to the porch steps. 
It is a mistake to have a meagre, narrow path because one's garden 
is small ; it accentuates the smallness of the garden. 

A low stone wall separated the lawns from the street. Along the 
wall were planted cuttings of pink ivy-geranium, which soon made 



150 CUT WEST 

vigorous efforts to smother the cold stone with its bright foUage 
and gay flowers. The house being on a corner, a simple fence 
ran from the wall to the back of the garden — a wire netting affair, 
not at all artistic — and we hastened to hide it with all possible 
speed, planning a hedge of marguerite daisies. It was at this pomt 
that we ran counter to the strongly expressed opinion of Crump. 
"I wouldn't hev no hedge if I was you, mem," he protested. "You 
hev to keep a trimmin' 'em, or else they looks untoidy. A noice 
oiron fence looks a heap better — it alius looks neat and handsome." 
His own garden had an "oiron" fence, as his rose-bushes knew to 
their cost. They were planted along the fence, but they were not 
allowed to touch it. Not a straggling branch must peep above it, 
for the "oiron" fence was the pride of his heart and the delight of 
his eyes, and so, though there was a twenty years' growth in the 
stems of his rosebushes, and they were as thick as one's arm, the 
branches were little stunted dwarfish things, a sight to make one 
weep, and to wish that there was a Society for the Prevention of 
Cruelty to Flowers. 

We carried the day, however, about the hedge, and a row of 
marguerite daisies down half the length of the fence made such 
rapid growth that soon the unsightly object was completely hidden 
by a symmetrical daisy hedge. The mass of white blossoms elicited 
many admiring comments from passers-by. 

For the back garden we craved privacy. We wanted here a place 
where we might bring our sewing with a friend, or where, with our 
books, our other friends, we might live outdoors through the sunny 
summer days, and — yes, through the sunny winter days as well — 
and yet the public street was on the other side of the transparent 
netting fence, and every passing stranger could look over. Here 
was a problem ! What must we do ? We had a happy thought — 
we would plant a bamboo hedge ! 

In the first spring after planting, it sent up such a forest of new 
shoots that a stone wall ten feet high could not screen our little 
back garden more effectually from the dust of the street, and from 
the public gaze. And it is a thing of beauty. The graceful leaves, 
of such a tender green, flutter with every breath of wind. The 
birds make a bower of it, especially the little darting long-billed 
iridescent humming-birds. It is a great comfort to have a bamboo 
hedge for one's back garden. 

Across the back a fence of solid boards, six feet high, was a night- 
mare of ugliness ; covered, however, with a growth of English ivy, 
it made a pleasing background for the rose-garden which borders 
this and the remaining side. To screen from possible neighbors on 
this remaining side, a tall lattice, speedily covered with climbing 
honeysuckle, jasmine and morning-glory, secured our utter privacy. 



A SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA GARDEN 151 

While we are in the back garden, let us notice that a clump of tall 
cannas rounds out the comer where the two fences meet. 

Set in the lawn in the back garden we have an orange tree for 
beauty. Whether with fragrant blossoms or golden fruit amongst 
the glossy leaves, it is a delight to look upon. A lemon tree, too, 
stands near as a mate to the orange; they seem to belong to each 
other. 

Near the comer of the lawn, facing the path which has the 
daisy-hedge on its right, is a scarlet poinsettia, with a group of 
scarlet salvias about it, to add to the mass of color. These are our 
chief reliance for Christmas decoration, as they are winter-bloomers. 

On the broad sill of the porch-wall at this corner (the porch into 
which the dining-room opens) are pots of flaming red geraniums, a 
reflection of the flaming red poinsettias and salvias below. To- 
gether they form a striking study in scarlet. 

There is a projecting room at the back of the house — my own 
room. In the angle between its wall and the wall of the main 
building is a bed of carnations for cutting. Carnations are a de- 
light. They have a bewitching odor, the variety of color is charm- 
ing, and as cut flowers they are most durable. Never before have 
we had all the carnations we wanted to cut and give away. 

Under a window of this bedroom is a clump of yellow cannas. 
They evidently find a congenial soil, for they are fully ten feet 
high, and the yellow sprays speckled with brown look very hand- 
some. At the peep of dawn I hear from my room a humming-bird 
taking his breakfast from the canna-blossoms ; he is a daily visitor. 
He hovers over the topmost spray (we have watched him) and 
darts his long bill into the depths of the topmost flower, and then 
goes down in an orderly manner to the next below, tasting of each 
flower in turn, until his dainty appetite is satisfied. 

Now we will go up the long path bordered by the daisy hedge, 
to the front garden. Here on the broad sill of the porch are pots 
of pink geraniums, looking over across the lawn at their neighbors, 
the pink ivy-geraniums, which are climbing over the low stone 
wall. Below, along the wall of the porch, is a bed of pink carna- 
tions, making altogether a study in pink, harmonizing well with 
the solt-tinted gray cedar shingle wall still in its natural color. 

On the other side of the broad central walk, are plants of mam- 
moth heliotrope, in the bed below the living-room windows. They 
have grown up between the windows and on either side, until they 
almost reach the roof. The flowers are rich clusters of royal purple, 
exquisitely beautiful. The busy bees buzz in and out amongst 
them, all undisturbed when I go with staples and hammer to fasten 
up a straggling branch. 

In front of the heliotrope are lavender petunias, and then a bor- 



152 OUT WEST 

dering of variegated geranium, shading from palest green to richest 
cream color. The coloring in this bed is a charming combination, 
so charming that a visitor declared he would like a garden entirely 
of these colors. At the corner, just by the rain-pipe, is an asparagus 
fern. It has climbed to the room already, wrapping 'round and 
'round the pipe, transforming it into a mass of delicate greenery. 
The bed on this side has a northern exposure, with just enough 
morning sun to give the earth a genial warmth. This is a habitat 
such as begonias and fuchsias love, and so we have them all down 
the bed, begonias and fuchsias of all colors and kinds. They re- 
spond to the morning sun and to the sheltering shade through the 
later day, and look very beautiful as it is their mission in life to do. 
In front of the begonias and fuchsias we have a border of pansies 
for a part of the way, and oh how they have bloomed ! We have 
picked them freely for the house, we have given them to pansy-less 
friends, we have gathered bunches for delighted littlel children, and 
still they bloom more profusely than ever. Give me pansies for 
pleasure! There is a pathetic beauty in a pansy, like the beauty 
in a quaint young face. 

Next comes our violet border. Give me violets for perfume! 
These will bloom when the pansies have ceased. At present they 
hav a beauty of verdure, and that is all. The remainder of this 
long wide bed has a border of blue lobelia, gay all the summer 
long, its deep blue flowers matching the blue of the sky. In the 
colder weather it is just modestly green. 

The porches are screened by a few climbing plants. The front 
porch has a white solanum, a white jasmine, and a white rose. The 
porch opening from the dining-room at the back, is shaded by a 
white rose and a tecomah. We prefer a glossy clean foliage rather 
than color for climbers, as the color might conflict with the color in 
the flower beds. 

The task of tending and caring for our little garden has been 
one of pure delight. The flowers respond so readily to a little at- 
tention. 

Santa Barbara, Cal. 



IT 



EUCALTPTUS BLOSSOMS 

By MARGARET ADELAIDE WILSON 

FELL asleep beneath a fragrant 
Arrow-leafed tree ; 

And all night long its drooping branches 
Showered sweet dreams on me. 



But when the dawn wind stirred the tree-tops, 
I saw — oh, wondrous sight! — 
My dreams, pale spheres amid the leafage. 
Ethereal, poised for flight. 
San Jacinto, Cal. 




153 

TISARE 

By NATALIE MAN SON DEW. 
LONG line of little Indian boys marched demurely 
along the board walk, their feet awkward in the white 
man's shoes, making a great clatter. Into the boys' 
building they wheeled, the line broke, and a rush began 
to change the stiffness of school uniforms for happy- 
go-lucky play-clothes. Whooping they were gone again out into 
the mellow autumn sunshine, to play marbles, to hurl reed spears 
and to throw handfuls of dust into the air, enjoying, when it fell, 
the dear familiarity of dirt. 

All but one. Tisare stood alone, slowly tying to his reed spear 
a long precious white string he had begged of the matron. On the 
end he fastened a bent pin. There was a world of gravity in his 
sombre black eyes as he fumbled deep in his pocket. It might be 
gone. Not since supper last night had he seen it. Yet here it was 
— a tiny bit of bread. Fate had been good to him. He shoved 
it back as soon as his fingers identified it and crept down the steps 
to the basement. 

There was plenty of light streaming through the half-windows 
for him to see the coars^ mortared walls, the cement floor, cracked 
and crumbling in places and the mouse-holes — they were his goal, 
the mouse-holes. Stooping, he unlaced the noisy shoes, and, step- 
ping out of them, slipped up to the biggest, the most promising, 
as warily as if to cast a fly into a trout-stream. The bit of bread 
was stuck firmly on the bent pin, and down into the hole the fishing- 
line went, not so swiftly as to startle the victim with the idea of 
invasion, but slowly so as to induce the belief that Providence was 
gently lowering an unsought blessing. 

The fisherman squatted patiently a few feet off. The minutes 
went by slowly. The laughter and the curious foreign English of 
the other boys floated in from the sunlit world without. The black 
eyes, motionless, expressionless, were fixed on the string. A half 
hour was gone — three-quarters. The line quivered, was drawn 
tight, was frantically pulled. The struggling mouse, fast hooked, 
was drawn from his very home to captivity. 

"Washte ! Lili washte !" The flush of triumph made the boy's 
newly learned English words pile and inadequate. He played with 
his victim like a cat, letting it run the length of the string, and pull- 
ing it back again. Bye-and-bye he carried it, dangling, up the steps 
and out into the play-ground. There he looked for his friend — for 
he had an important mission on hand and needed a backer. The 
play-ground was big and flat. So was the whole world as far as 
the mountains, except for the red-and-yellow hills that marked the 



154 OUT WEST 

course of the river. Wittogant, a little boy in a big suit of clothes, 
was sitting on the board walk gazing wistfully off across the grey- 
green expanse of sage-brush where a pony was galloping, an Indian 
in a big sombrero on his back. The up-and-down of the motion was 
so regular that the effect was that of a puppet drawn across the 
back-ground of a stage. 

"You catch him, ha?" The fishermaa was proudly displaying his 
trophy. 

Again English failed. Tisare began his explanation, quite low so 
that the forbidden language might not draw down reproof and with 
a little of the sign language of his race to give dramatic intensity. 

The woman belonging to the man who wrote was very beautiful. 
She was large and her hair shone red, quite red, like the sun in the 
month when the sun-dance is danced, or the moon wheii the cc^otes 
sing to it. Beneath her window are often flowers she throws away 
which one may have to stick in the hat. She has, too, a cat, not 
like a cat, but large and with hair that sticks out like a bear's hair. 
If we take the mouse, she will be glad, and we may see the cat with 
hair like a bear! 

Tisare did not say that the clerk's woman possessed his heart, 
but such was the case. Ever since the last snowfall when the silly 
little snow-birds had whirled and danced so gaily, he had loved her 
— well, not just as he loved his mother, the stout little squaw who 
brought him crackers and candy and sometimes delicious beef- 
entrails under her shawl, but a little as Indians love the mountains 
where the ghosts live — loving and fearing at once. That last day 
the snow-birds danced, Tisare had set a trap of horse-hair nooses 
far out near the fence where nobody would see it. When school 
was out there were three of the black and grey revellers flying up 
until the nooses choked them. Tisare had pulled off their wings. 
They looked so funny hopping around and trying to fly without 
any. He laughed so he did not hear the footsteps in the soft snow 
until she stood just behind him. His mother, the stout little squaw, 
would have laughed too until her red-and-yellow shawl quivered, 
but this woman was different. There was a look in her eyes that 
made Tisare afraid to move — something like the light that comes 
before the thunder-bird screams. She caught and killed the funny 
little hopping birds one by one, gave a look at the bloody wings 
scattered on the snow and in a moment jerked the boy to his feet 
and shook him as he had never been shaken before in his lawless 
camp life. He threw his fingers out in the sign which means, 
"You're very wicked," but then he looked into her eyes, which were 
big and brown under the curling red hair, and forgot he had been 
shaken by a woman. She talked to him a great deal, holding him 



T IS ARE 155 

by the arm, and although he did not understand a word, he never 
moved his absorbed gaze from her face. Many times since, he 
had seen her. Chapel held a charm hitherto unknown when that 
beautiful red hair shone behind the organ. Even the long board 
walk which led to school and slavery possessed one point of con- 
suming interest where She and the big Angora cat might some- 
times be seen sitting on the window ledge. 

Wittogant did not seem duly impressed with the venture. There 
was too much risk attached, too little to gain. Now if the idea 
had been to rope the calves in the corral — that would have been 
pleasant if they were not caught, but to face a strange white 
woman — no! He had seen the cat, had once seen it close enough 
to throw a rock at it. No, he would not go. 

Tisare was resourceful. He had a ribbon, frayed it is true, but 
still red. Wittogant looked, reached out a covetous hand, and was 
lost. He clumped stolidly along behind his leader down the board 
walk, up the stairs into an alien country, whose borders he had 
never trodden before. The clerk's wife opened the door in re- 
sponse to the timid knock, and drew them into a glorified room full 
of unnecessary things. Tisare knew she slept (as Indian children, 
too, had to do when in school), insecurely balanced on a sort of 
shelf, but he was taken unawares when his foot sank into a soft 
something with pictures of flowers and vines all over it, that 
covered the floor. The walls, too, had things on them. This, per- 
haps, was because she lived so high up above all those piled-up 
boxes that she could put nothing outside on the ground or on the 
roof. White people's houses were wonderful, but insecure and 
inconvenient. 

This time she was smiling when Tisare held out the writhing 
mouse. "Me ketch him," he explained, in his foreign drawl. 
"Maybe so your cat he eat him, ha?" 

"Thank you, Tisare. Miss Muffet loves mice and she never 
gets a chance to catch them for herself. But how did you catch 
him? Fished for him with a hook and line? Mercy! But don't 
you know, Tisare, it hurts the poor little mouse having a hook 
right down in his stomach? It is a good thing to catch mice, 
because they do harm, but you mustn't let anything suffer. Now 
you kill it. Ah, take this broom and hit it hard on the head. 
Now, Muffet, Muffet, come here. You may give it to her." 

Miss Muffet approached daintily, carrying her plumy tail with 
aristocratic dignity, seized the mouse and made off with it to the 
most distant corner, where she amused herself for a half-hour pre- 
tending it was alive before crunching the choice morsel, still growl- 
ing to encourage a growing belief that she had really caught it. 

The clerk's wife had a true womanly love for all helpless things. 



156 OUT WEST 

These silent Indian children brought in from the squalor and filth 
of camp life — the innocent inheritors of generations of disease and 
ignorance, crime and irregular living with so little to help them up, 
so much to drag them down — touched the strong maternal chord 
that never failed to vibrate tenderness. She held a hand of each 
little boy as they sat beside her on a barbaric Navajo blanket 
brought from the far southern desert for a couch-cover. 

She talked to them slowly, so that her words could become Sho- 
shone in their understanding, telling them about little American 
boys and girls, about animals and how we must all be kind to them 
and to the birds — the snow-birds and bobolinks, the black-birds and 
meadow-larks. The little savages listened, with earnest eyes fixed 
on the beautiful red hair. Tisare understood a great many of her 
words, but the meaning was strange. Who ever thought of being 
kind to animals in a land where horses were broken by being roped 
and thrown, choked until half senseless, and then allowed to stumble 
up with a rider on their backs ? And birds ! Surely she didn't 
mean the meadow-larks who mock the Indians, calling, "You didn't 
comb your hair ! You didn't comb your hair !" 

He thought about it a great deal even in school next day, when, 
amid the arduous labors of addition, he found time to draw a line 
of bucking broncos across his slate. He was still thinking of it 
when he saw Black Coyote's wife, an ugly old squaw without a 
nose, sitting on the board walk. Her daughter, one of the girls 
who was learning to cook, came out in a long blue apron and sat 
down beside her. Something in her walk caught his alert glance, 
so that when she drew her apron a little to one side, he saw that 
the thin legs in the long black stockings were swollen and, strangely 
lumpy. He chuckled as she pulled out her booty — prunes crammed 
down to her shoe-tops, and biscuit — one, two, three, four. How 
•sad that the legs had to go in too, else breakfast as well as supper 
could have been brought out unnoticed. The old woman stowed 
the food away in her shawl. As she fumbled, something white and 
fluffy back in the gay folds moved and mewed — a stifled mew — 
Miss Muffet ! Tisare's heart came right up in his throat and back 
again like mercury in a thermometer. Black Coyote's wife had 
stolen — had dared to steal — Her cat. He would have as soon 
thought of stealing the sacred pipe, or cutting down the sun-danc6 
pole. And She had said, with that dear look in Her eyes that 
made them misty and deep like the evening shadows over the 
cafions, that we must be kind to all animals, and to the birds, even 
to the meadow-larks who sneer and mock, "You didn't comb your 
hair! You didn't comb your hair!" 

There was no time to look for a friend to bribe. Tisare must go 
alone up the piled-up boxes and into that white man's country above 



TISARE 157 

them, and tell the clerk's wife, else she would never, never see Miss 
Muflfet again. He went before his courage should ooze away, and 
knocked, as he had been taught, many times. She was gone. He 
clattered back again, only to see the red handkerchief and gay shawl 
of Black Coyote's wife bouncing along in Black Coyote's sway- 
back wagon down the dusty road that leads on and on through the 
sage-brush, past the hot springs, "down below" into Arapahoe land. 

Tisare stood and looked until the wagon was a black speck drag- 
ging a tail of golden dust. Then he drew a long breath. He had 
made a resolve. Over in the field his pony, "heap strong, one year 
old," was picking at the patches of buffalo-grass. He, Tisare, 
seven years old, would run away, not to his own people, but to the 
enemy. He would follow the trail of that wagon, and ,if the Arapa- 
hoes did not kill Miss Muffet, he would rescue her under cover of 
darkness. He would bring her back to her mistress, and see the 
smile of approval in the soft brown eyes and perhaps sit beside 
Her on the Navajo blanket, holding Her hand. A warm glow 
came over him at the delightful picture that almost kept him from 
feeling afraid. 

To rope his pony was easy. No one was watching him. He 
would not be missed before supper. Mounted, he kicked the beast 
in the ribs until it abandoned the idea of taking the shortest cut-off 
to the tepee up among the hills, and edged unwillingly down the 
unfamiliar road. Holding with his legs, his eyes bent on the tracks 
ahead, he galloped along, trailing the Arapahoes as many of his 
forefathers, hideous in their war-paint, had trailed them, many, many 
times in the bloody days gone by. Far off he saw the black speck 
with its golden tail of dust, and pulled his pony down to a slow 
trot. Some Indians were riding across the sage-brush and he 
caught faintly the 'guttural chant of their dance-song, but met no 
one. It was almost night. They must camp soon — A — ah! they 
were heading for the river. Would they ford? No — no crawling 
speck went up the hill on the other side. 

Bye-and-bye the warm glow of the camp-fire shone home-like 
through the solitude of twilight. The little boy, watching, began 
to shiver, between the chill that comes with sunset in high altitudes 
and dread of coming darkness. Cautiously he rode as near as he 
dared, dismounted, and tied his horse among the cottonwoods on 
the river bank. Through the open tepee flap he could see Black 
Coyote and his wife munching the school biscuits and prunes. In 
the firelight the noseless woman was no longer human. She was a 
monster with the body of a woman and the blank goggling face 
of a fish. Tisare, lying on his stomach among the trees, watched 
her with an awful fascination. She vanished, a witch among the 
shadows, and came back with Miss Muffet, no longer haughty and 



158 ' OUT WEST 

mincing, but a wild-eyed bunch of white fur in terror of its life. 
The woman tossed the cat to her husband, who, stretching it on its 
back, began critically to examine it. Tisare, the late torturer of 
snow-birds, hated him — hated him once because he was an Arapa- 
hoe, hated him twice for what he might do to Her cat. But curi- 
osity was all, for the present. Having satisfied himself as to how 
this strange animal was put together, Black Coyote carefully tied 
it to a tepee pole, rolled himself up in a blanket, and, with his feet 
to the fire, was soon snoring. The witch lost no time in following 
his example. 

The fire flickered and died and flickered into life again as a 
trembling little boy, with an open knife in his hand, crept in, cut 
the cord and crept out with the big cat in his arms. He was in a 
panic of terror. Outside, he ran frantically, stumbled and fell, 
barely catching Miss Muffet by the tail, and getting well scratched 
for his pains, got up and ran again, gained his pony, untied it with 
shaking fingers, scrambled on and was off into the night, the reins 
hanging over the horn of the saddle, both arms clasping the strug- 
gling cat. Some one was behind him — Black Coyote, or a ghost, 
or perhaps Nindimbe, the devil himself. He could have shrieked in 
nervous terror. He kicked the willing pony in the sides and they 
fled along the dear home-trail, away from the enemy's country — 
a young brave successful in his first foray, alone with the silence of 
the desert and the silence of the stars, and desperately afraid. 

Just as the rising bell, which always ushered in the systematic 
and civilized day of the Indian school, was ringing, a boy, a cat, 
and a lame pony came through the gate. They were all limp and 
dejected. Leaving the reins trailing over the pony's head, Tisare 
once more climbed the piled-up boxes that led up to the white man's 
country. He had his offering, still wild-eyed and very ungrateful, 
clasped in his arms. The clerk's wife heard the awkward clatter of 
his shoes and opened the door. Her red hair shone in the fresh 
morning light like an aureole around her sweet face. 

"My dear Miss Muffet! My precious little fluffy cat! Did you 
find her, Tisare?" She put her hand on his shoulder while she 
cuddled the bedraggled Miss Muffet adorably under her round white 
chin. Tisare's heart sang happily within him, but he could not 
recount his deeds. He was too shy, and besides he did not know 
enough English. 

"Thank you, Tisare. You know I love Miss Muffet, just as I 
told you you must love all the animals and all the little birds, and 
it makes me glad for you to bring her back to me." Turning, she 
looked for something to give her small chief pleasure. On the 
dressing table a broad ribbon, apple-green, lay alluringly, "Let me 
tie this around your hat, Tisare, and here is a big red geranium 
1 will pin on your coat — not to pay you, you understand, but be- 
cause I like you." 

She was still smiling in her doorway when Tisare, silent but 
gorgeous and happy, went down the stairs and over to the boys' 
building to take his punishment for a runaway. 

Sweet Briar, Va. 



159 




•RUDONDO BEACH. CALIFORNIA 

(Specially Contributed.) 
HAT constitutes an ideal home city? 

Perhaps there is no spot on earth that can fill the specifi- 
cations wholly, but Redondo Beacli, :i> a suburb of our South- 
western metropolis, possesses about every endowment that 
Nature can bestow upon a home location. 
When Los Angeles was a Spanish pueblo, sheep herders 
were practically the sole tenants of Sausal Redondo Rancho, and the sleep- 
ing Southwest was waiting for a signal from the railroad to announce its 
birthright. In those days the tourist who sought an ideal climate with at- 
tractive environment usually landed in Florida or Southern France. 

Southern California's awakening might be said to date from the comple- 
tion in 1887 of the Santa Fe between Chicago and Los Angeles. The Amer- 
ican public needed but a sight and taste of "God's Country" to thirst for 
more. And when it was made easy and comfortable to traverse the hereto- 
fore barren and much-dreaded expanse west of the Mississippi, the problem 
soon became one of how to handle the multitude rather than how to attract it. 
Southern California had suddenly become the watchword of the East, and 
Los Angeles County was the Mecca for tourists in search of the Promised 
Land. 

The possibiHties of our soil and climate had begun to be understood and 
the vast empire south of Tehachepi proved — and incidentally is still proving 
— almost as alluring to the world as did California's gold in the days of '49. 
Concurrent with the boom of 1887, Redondo Beach took its start. No 
beach location near Los Angeles possessed such attractive features. The 
rolling contours and natural terraces offered rare scenic advantages for at- 
tractive country homes. Add to this, wealth of soil, perfection of climate 
and an abundance of pure water ; result, Redondo Beach as first introduced 
to the public. This introduction, however, was too late for its sponsors, who 




REDONDO BEACH, CALIFORNIA. 



161 



knew and appreciated its natural advantages, to profit by them, as the general 
real estate excitement had carried people far beyond the pale of reason and 
common sense, and the day of reckoning had already arrived. The tide had 
turned, and, as water seeks its level, so the era of inflated values and rash 
speculations had given way to one of ultra-conservatism and a seemingly dead 
real-estate market. 

Times looked dark, but soon there were silver linings to Redondo's clouds. 
At this juncture Capt. J. C. Ainsworth and Capt. R. R. Thompson, two re- 
tired Oregon capitalists, who had been associated together for many years 
and were especially conspicuous in the transportation history of the North- 
west, made a visit of inspection to Redondo Beach, and with their stamp 
of approval infused new life, by promising for the little seaside city the 
brilliant future that it deserved. 

Surveys had shown these captains of industry that a deep sea-caiion, head- 




Pa VIRION Arcadk, Rehondo 

ing at Redondo Beach, would admit of wharves being built at moderate cost 
to accommodate deep-sea vessels. Steps were immediately taken to buikl 
what is known locally as Wharf No. i, and inducements were oflFered which 
resulted in a railroad extension of the Santa Fe from Los Angeles. This 
was completed in 1889. The wharf was ready, with track facilities, and 
Redondo Beach had the proud distinction of being the first port in Los 
Angeles County through which lumber and merchandise from deep-sea ves- 
sels could be handled direct from ship's tackle to cars. 

A great step had been taken ; the possibilities of the port had been dem- 
onstrated. But those who conceived these advantages also realized the neces- 
sity for an independent rail connection with Los Angeles. Work was soon 
commenced on the Redondo Railway, and this line was opened for traffic 
in the Spring of 1890, giving to Redondo Beach what was then considered 



REDONDO BEACH, CALIFORNIA. 



163 



an excellent passenger service and completing the independent link that has 
meant so much to Los Angeles County. 

The importance of these accomplishments was probably never fully appre- 
ciated. That Los Angeles was put in closer touch with San Francisco ; that 
a permanent line of fine passenger and freight steamers gave to the country 
a regular and reliable service, connecting through Redondo Beach with all 
the large coast cities ; that this independent route settled for all time any 
question of extortionate or unreasonable rates ; that it jnsured up-to-date 
equipment, modern comforts and proper dispatch in coastwise travel ; that 
it was the direct cause of vast expenditures being made by competitive in- 
terests, to create or improve other ports and dock facilities ; that it has pro- 
tected the people of this section against much financial loss and physical 
discomfort at times when railroad troubles would otherwise have blocked 




A Redondo Garden 

traffic ; that it was in fact the only channel through which coastwise freight 
or passengers could be handled for Los Angeles during the great labor strike 
of 1894; all these facts, and many others of like tenor, bear evidence of the 
really important part Redondo Beach has played as a port of entry for 
Southern California and an independent factor in the field of transportation. 

Redondo's port facilities have been improved to meet the increased demands 
of trade, and three modern docks are now so taxed to accommodate shipping 
that plans for extensions are well under way. 

While these substantial foundations were being laid, the local interests 
of this popular resort were never lost sight of. In 1889 the locality — con- 
sisting of about 1000 acres — was incorporated, as a city of the sixth class. 
Its municipal activities since that date have contributed very largely towards 
beautifying it and adding the comforts and attractions of modern civilization. 



REDONDO BEACH, CALIFORNIA. 



165 



The City Hall, recently completed, is one of the handsomest and best- 
arranged pubhc buildings in Southern California. Many miles of street work, 
including cement sidewalks, curbs and gutters, have been completed at an 
outlay of over $250,000. The modern sewer-system, now nearing completion, 
is designed to drain every section of the city, while the odorless output of 
its septic tanks will irrigate farm-lands, beyond the city's boundary. 1 he 
bathing-beach, which is noted for its freedom from undertow, is thus pro- 
tected against any contamination, and will always remain one of the at- 
tractive features of this resort, vying with Moonstone Beach, which has 
become famous for its semi-precious stones and attracts a continuous crowd 
of treasure-seekers to Redondo's north shore-line. 

It is interesting to note that, with all her municipal improvements, Re- 
dondo's indebtedness is but slightly over $100,000, and her tax-rate less than 
one dollar per hundred dollars of valuation. 




JH I-. r w 1 1. ION, Ri;ii()Nii(i 

Another important initial step, taken to insure the early prestige oi 
Redondo Beach, was the erection of a mammoth hotel, which opened its 
doors to the public in May, 1850. Hotel Redondo has become well and • 
favorably known throughout the country and still ranks among the leading 
hostelries of Southern California. 

One product of this resort, which was a potent factor in its early adver- 
tising, is the Redondo Carnation. This flower was so peculiarly adapted to 
Redondo's soil and climate that it has for many years been produced on a 
wholesale scale ; and gardens that were originally planned only as an at- 
traction have for fifteen years past devoted an average of ten acres to the 
exclusive culture of carnations for the market. 

Another local product, which antedates Redondo's first awakening, is the 
manufacture of salt from a lake at the north end of the city, which is below 
sea level, and whose waters have always contained about ico% saturation 
of salt. Long before the first rail connection with Redondo, this product was 



166 



our WEST 



teamed to Los Angeles, and the first settlement within the limits of the 
present city, was due to this enterprise. 

One of the most important articles manufactured locally is a sandstone 
brick, which is produced in all colors, has stood the test of years, and is 
becoming popular in the Los Angeles and Pasadena markets. Among other 
industries that employ labor and thus add stability to this place, are oil and 
lumber. 'J'he Standard Oil Company has tankage capacity on its own lands, 
within the city limits, for over 100,000 barrels of oil. Through traffic ar- 
rangements with the Los Angeles & Redondo Railway Company, owners of 
the wharves, crude and refined oils are pumped direct to and from oil tank 
steamers. Frequent cargoes of 25,000 to 40,000 barrels are loaded or dis- 
charged in a few hours time. The process is clean, noiseless and decided'y 
eflfective. 




City HaIvIv, Redondo 

The Associated Oil Company also has a pipe-line on the wharves, and 
ships large quantities of oil through this port from its Sherman fields. 

Four wholesale yards, carrying stocks of twenty to thirty million feet of 
lumber, give employment to many laborers and occupation to a fleet of lum- 
ber-vessels that are always in evidence at Redondo Beach. During 1907 they 
dehvered more than ico,ooo,ooo feet of lumber over her wharves, and 1908 
will doubtless exceed that figure. 

For years Redondo has been the banner beach of Southern California for 
the quantity of fish it ships to market. The industry supports many families 
and is growing in extent each year. Rod-and-reel enthusiasts need no in- 
troduction to this famous fishing-ground. They are always in evidence on 
the several wharves, or in dories or pleasure launches ; and at times, when 
yellow-tail are biting, the wharf scenes present a spectacle of activity, enthus- 
iasm and carnage that would melt a "wooden Indian.'' 



RBDONDO BEACH, CALIFORNIA. 



167 



'I wo Xational and two Savings Banks supply Rcdondo's financial needs, 
and these, in keeping with her general prosperity, are making ample returns 
to their stockholders, while huilding up a comfortable reserve. They are all 
in strong hands and would be a credit to any community. 

A Chamber of Commerce, composed of some two hundred loyal "rooters" 
for Redondo Beach, has done splendid work in making its attractions known, 
and investigating and promoting many enterprises that pertain to the com- 
munity's needs. 

To its other advantages, Redondo Beach adds an exceptionally fine school 
system, including a Union High School and two Grammar Schools, while it is 
sufficiently close to Los Angeles to permit of attendance at the numerous 
special schools, universities and business colleges of the metropolis. Churches 
of all denominations are also represented in Redondo Beach, and its citizens 
are cultured, refined and prosperous. 

In 1903, three electric lines were built between Los Angeles and Redondo, 
one via the coast line to Playa del Rey and thence connecting with the Los 
Angeles-Pacific Railway system. The other two routes — which are more 




Tknt City — Hotki. Keuondo in Background 

direct and therefore better patronized — were built by the parent company, 
which changed its name to the Los Angeles & Redondo Railway Company 
and formed a traffic connection with the Los Angeles Railway system that 
admitted its cars over the principal city streets. 

Redondo Beach was now a suburb of Los Angeles. Fast electric cars 
running every few minutes over a choice of three routes gave to beach resi- 
dents practically all the advantages of the larger city. And with a climate 
more equable even than that of Los Angeles, little could be asked to more 
definitely insure its future. But if one thing more than another will guar- 
antee continued prosperity, it is the fact that Mr. H. E. Huntington — whose 
name and reputation as a builder need no introduction — succeeded, in June, 
1905, to the control of the Los Angeles & Redondo Railway Co. and the 
Redondo Improvement Co., the latter representing large real estate holdings 
at Redondo Beach and owning the entire water system. 

Announcement of this purchase by Mr. Huntington was the signal for one 
of the most remarkable "real estate booms" ever witnessed in California. 



168 OUT WEST 

In one sense it was a great tril)ute to the man. Redondo was favorably 
known, and needed but the backing of such a man to insure its future. For 
tour days every car-line leading to Redondo Beach was taxed to its utmost, 
and vehicles of every description conveyed people from outlying districts 
miles beyond Los Angeles. It seemed as though every real estate firm in 
Los Angeles established an office at Redondo, and hundreds of business men 
deserted their Los Angeles offices to be "in the swim."' Men and women 
stood in line day after day, to take their turns in buying lots. The whole 
town-site swarmed with agents, buyers and sellers. Maps had given out, 
and before others could be printed, many were selling for $5 each. Lots 
were re-sold at fabulous prices, and were bought and re-sold again. This 
unnatural excitement of course had its evil effect ; while many profited, 
many were swindled by unscrupulous operators, and many lost all they had. 
It is gratifying to note, however, that the Redondo Improvement Company 
placed no unreasonable values on its lots and that all who purchased from it 
got value received. 

And as proof that the public confidence was not misplaced, witness subse- 
quent improvements, under the Huntington regime : 

Seven miles of second track have been added to the Inglewood division, 
making it double track throughout. Two miles of local car lines have been 
built in Redondo Beach and an equivalent length of second track added to 
the Gardena division. A double-track line has been extended through 
Cliffton-by-the-Sea, and twelve miles of double track have been completed 
and regular cars are now operating on the Moneta Avenue division, thus 
giving Redondo a choice of four electric routes to Los Angeles. 

The Redondo car shops — at which all passenger and freight cars on the 
system are built — have been doubled in size and a full force of workmen 
continuously employed. 

A 25,000-horse-power electric power-plant — which is the largest .under one 
roof west of Chicago — has just been completed; and, incidentally, this has 
proven to be the most efficient electric generating plant in the world. 

Plans are completed for what will be the largest and best appointed 
natatorium on the Pacific Coast. A constant flow of warm salt water, now 
running off as waste from the power plant, will serve to keep the great tile- 
lined swimming-pool perpetually supplied and always inviting. This insti- 
tution in itself will attract many from Los Angeles and the interior, and 
would do credit to any city of the first class. 

A magnificent pavilion has been completed on the water front. Its dance 
hall is second to none on the coast, and an excellent orchestra is in at- 
tendance. 

Cliffton-by-the-Sea, also a Huntington enterprise, adjoins Redondo Beach 
on the South. It is a subdivision for high-class homes, on which nearly 
$500,000 has been expended. A twenty-minute car service puts it in close 
touch with Los Angeles, and all conveniences known to modern civilization 
are found here. Its building restrictions guarantee a desirable class of homes 
and its natural advantages will appeal to home seekers. 

The water system at Redondo Beach has been more than doubled in this 
period "after the boom." So have the consumers. So has the car travel. 

Was the public mistaken in its judgment of Mr. Huntington and what his 
Redondo purchases foretold? The most sanguine have not been disap- 
pointed. Redondo Beach is a fixture commercially, and as a home city, and 
is destined to grow until it is one with Los Angeles. 




^ 



"TI-IE ONLY RATTAN" 




r 



up to 42 in. in stock sizes. 
Rattan Hat Boxes. 



N calling your attention to our Rattan 
trunk, we are not asking you to try 
something new in the trunk Hne, but an 
improvement on the old English idea of 
the Hamper trunk made of willow, that 
has been in use in Europe for ages. We 
claim for our trunk better construction 
and better materials all through than any 
other basket trunk made. We would like 
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that has used one. Can refer to parties 
using from four ( 4) to eight (8) and ten 
(10) of them. The sizes run from 34 
We make any size to order not in stock on short notice. Rattan Steamers 



Fred J. Whitney 



Succetsor to 
J. C. CUNNINGHAM 

Manufacturer of TRUNI\S AND TRAVELING BAGS 
RATTAN TRUNM.S A SPECIALTY 



9 South 5prmg St.. Los Angeles, Cal. 



TclepL« 



F-6018 

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^ost Orrice Money Orders 
ana Government Bonas 



re bougKt largely for SAFETY. Building and Loan Association stock la 
uglit for tLe same reason — SAFETY — ana also because it pays a nigher rate ox 



tercst. 



L he Continental Building and Loan 
Association 

pays 6 per cent net per annum, payaole semi-annually. 
ASHINGTON T)ODGE. Trrsidenl WILLIAM CORBIN. Secrelary 

MARKET ^ CHURCH STS., SAN FRANCISCO, CALIF. 



RamonaToilet Soap 



PO R SALE 
EVERYWHEP?E 



I 




51 



OF FIVE ACRES 
AND UPWARDS 

in the Counties of 

Fifesno and Metced 
California 

MILLER AND LUX 

Los Banos^ Merced County 
California 




" Silfe 
Tlate 
That 

iVears. 



Silver 

with a 

Reputation 

Since 1847 the 
world's stand- 
ard of fine silver 
plate has been 
set by pieces stamped 
with the trade -mark 

'M ROGERS BROS'; 

All the skill and exact workmanship born of 6i 
years' experience are combinetl in knives, forks, 
spoons, etc., bearing this trade-mark. With this 
as your guide you cannot possibly err in the 
choice of fine silverware. 

Sold by leading dealers. Send for new cata- 
logue "V-39" showing the latest patterns. 

MERIDEN BRITANNIA CO., Merlden, Conr 

(International Silver Co., Successor.) 
V Meriden Silver Polish, the " Silver Polish that Cleans." 




Mathie^^^ 



RED RIBBON BEER 

CONFORMS to the PURE FOOD LAW 



'T'HE Mathie Brewing Company offer $ 1 OOO 
for any one to piove that their beers in Purity and 
Quality are not the purest brewed. ^ Do you know 
that beer contains only about 3^ per cent of alcohol ? 
Beer is liquid bread — is the German saying. Used 
moderately, beer is not an intoxicant and is the purest of 
popular drinks. The best temperance drink is beer. 
Physicians prescribe beer for the weak as it makes strength. 
Beer ranks with milk as a blood and strength producer 
and contains little alcohol. ^ Our beers are sold in quarts 
and pints. Why not try a case ? 



Home Ex. 942 



TELEPHONES: 



Sunset East 6e 







-^^^ J.'j^odi 



K 







Special Assortment 

OF PURE WINES 



Calif, 



ornia 



$9.00 



assortea \>jaiiror- 

$11.00 



SPECIAL INO. 1 

Two cases or 8-year. old assorted 
wines. Every drop pure and 
wnolesome. Freignt included 
to any point East. Only . 

SPECIAL INO. 2 

Two cases or our 10-year-old assorted Califor- 
nia wines. Boxed free 
and freignt prepaid to any 
part of the East for only 

^ We will pack free of cKarge and deliver freigkt 
prepaid to any railroad point m tne United States eitKer 
of tnese specials. We sell none tut absolutely pure 
wines. Every bottle guaranteed. 

EREIGMT PREPAID 



Fac-simiie 
of Gold Medal 
Won at 
Lewis & 
Clark 
Exposition 
Portland, 1905 




1 hese wines are so pure and -wnolesome, so perfect m flavor and maturity 
as to receive tne highest honors at many International expositions, includ- 
ing Pans, Buffalo, St. Louis, Portland and the recent Jamesto-wn Cen- 
tennial Exposition. Every bottle sold -with a positive guarantee of age 
and purity. None less than t^wenty years old, many are thirty. If you 
want wines of surpassing quality, try the Gold Medal Srand, Order di- 
rect from the distributors. 



63S SxnUh TTUunS^t. 



HOME' EX' 9/9 



3UN3ET MAIN 919 



LOS AINGELES, CALIFORNIA 



San Fernando, Col. 

liTe Ideal Spot for a Home 




GEORGE JR. SCHOOL 

THE FINEST CITRUS 
FRUITS IN THE WORLD 

Are Grown in the Sun Fernando Valley 

250,000 acres o( the most fertile soil in Southern 
California, on which is grown every product of the soil. 

For detailed information of the opportunities offered, write 
to any of the following: 

R. P. Waite Markham & Dickerson 

Stewart Fruit Co. Van Winkle Broe. 

John T. Wilson Henry HoUye 

Mn. F. L. Boniff F. A. PoweU 

S. N. Lopa fit Co. 




Putting tlie Car in Commission 



When you put your car "in commission," you 
want it to "stay put." Good lubrication is al- 
most the first requirement. Avoidance of car- 
bon deposits is of prime necessity. Both are 
accomplished bythe use of ZEROLENE.thenew 
friction-proof, trouble proof, carbon-proof oil. 
Your spark plug troubles will cease — you can 
forget all about ihem if yuu use Zerolene. This 
oil is produced in only one place in the world. 

lEROLENE 

Auto-Lubricating OU 

is made in only one grade. This one ^rade works 
perfectly in every type of gasoline engine. 
Leaves practically no carbon deposit, and keeps 
cylinders and spark plugs clean. 

Sealed cans witti non-refilling spout protect against 
substitution of Inferior oils. Also put up in barrels 
for garage trade. Sold by dealers everywliere. 

STANDARD OIL COMPANY 

( Incorporated) 



Designing 
Engraving 
Printing 



We Print the 
OUT WEST 
MAGAZINE 



Estimates 
Promptly- 
Furnished 



WM. WOLFER 



A. M. DUNN 




«^e^ 



Commercial, Book and Catalogue 



Printing and Binding 



837 So. Spring Street, Los Angeles 



Hummel Bros. & Co. furnish best help. 116-118 E. Second. 




IN THE SAN BERNARDINO MOUNTAINS 

■* I 'HIS City is situated in a valley of great fertility, while the scenic beauties are unex- 
celled. Three transcontinental railroads enter the city and trolley lines lead to the 
mountains and to adjacent towns and communities. Here are located the great Santa Fe 
railroad shops, employing more than one thousand men, with a pay-roll amounting to $ 1 00,000 
per month. 7 he business men of the city very largely furnish the vast supplies for the min- 
ing districts in other parts of the county. ^ Arrowhead Hotel, Arrowhead Hot Springs, 
California, is easily reached by any train to San Bernardino, thence by trolley car direct to 
Arrowhead Hotel. ^ First class schools, public library and churches of nearly all denom- 
nation;. t| For Booklet and Further Information, Address 

SECRETARY BOARD OF TRADE, SAN BERNARDINO, CAL. 

or any of the following leading business firms: 



Arrowhead Hotel 
David R. Glass, Business College 
Insurance, Loan and Land Company 
W. L. Vestal, Insurance and Real Estate 
Miller-McKenney-Lightfoot Company, Real Els- 
tate Brokers 



Stewart Hotel 

California State Bank 

Jones Bros., Kodak Supplies 

Draper &c Dubbell, Real Estate, Insurance and 

Loans 
San Bernardino Realty Board 





Maier Brewing Company's 

**Select" JSccx 

XTOTED for its Age, 
"•■^ Purity and Strength. 
All shipments by bottles or 
kegs promptly filled. Family 
trade a specialty. :: :: :: 




^^^^I^H^^^^i^^^R^Bl^^P^^^&r 


440 Aliso Street, Los Angeles 

BOTH PHONES: Exchange 91 



Bailey's Rubber Complexion 
Brushes ftn^ Massage Rollers 

Make, Keep and KeHtore Ik-auty in Nature's own way 




V^H E FLAT-ENDED TEETH 



with circular biting: edKes that remove dust caps, 
cleanse the skin in the bath, open the pores, and give 
new life to the whole body. Bailey'8 Rubber 
Bri'shes are all made this way. Mailed for price. 
Beware of imitations. At all dealers. 
Bailey'8 Rubber Complexion Brush . . $ .50 
Bailey's Rubber Massagre Roller .50 

Bailey's Bath and Shampoo Brush .75 

Bailey's Rubber Bath and Flesh Brush 1.50 

Itailey's Rubber Toilet Brush (small) .25 

Bailey's Skin Food (large jar) .50 




Bailey's 

Won't Slip 

TIP 



This tip won't slip on 
ANY SURFACE, on 
Hmooth ice, or mar the 
most highly polished 
floor. Made in five 
sizes, internal diameter: 
No. 17. %, in. : No. 18, % 
in.: No. 19. % in.: No. 
20. 1 in.: No. 21. Wn in. 
Mailed upon receipt of 
price, 30c. per pair. 
Agents wanted. 

100 I'a^. i<i^i.i;.j Catalogue Free. 

C. J. BAILEY & CO., 22 BoylsUn St., BOSTON, Mass. 




li:ading hote:ls of 
the: coast 



HOTEL REDONDO, Redondo, Cal. 
18 miles from Los Angeles, at Redondo-by- 
the-sea. "The Queen of the Pacific." Open 
all the year, even climate. 



APARTMENTS, Los Angeles 
fully furnished, new, 3 rooms, gas, range, hot 
water, bath, telephone, $14.00 monthly. T. 
Wiesendanger, Room 311. 207 South Broadway, 
Los Angeles. 



HOTEL PLEASANTON 
Los Angeles, California 

New, modem, American plan family hotel. Hot 
and cold water, telephone, and steam heat in every 
room. Rates, $10.00 to $16.00 week. 
1 120 So. Grand Ave. E. R. PARMELEE 



The Superiority 

of the 

ATLAS JAR 

The "ATLAS" brand of jars, whether 
Mason or E. Z. Seal, are the only preserving 
jars on which the housewife can place abso- 
lute reliability. 

They are made of glass especially pre- 
pared to stand great heat. They are extra 
strong at the top where the greatest strain 
comes. The 

ATLAS 

Special Mason 

is a screw cap jar with an extra wide mouth. 
This permits the preserving of large fruits 
whole. They are more easily emptied and 
cleaned. The 

ATLAS E. Z. Seal Jar 

(l.ighfn/ng Trimmings) 

like illustration, is also a wide-mouth jar. What- 
ever jar you buy — be sure it's an ATIyAS— "Atlas" 
means quality. 

If your dealer cannot supply these jars, send 
us $3, aud we will express prepaid thirty (30) 
quart size Atlas Special Wide Mouth Jars 
to any town having an office of the Adams or 
U. S. Express Co., within the States of Pennsyl- 
vania, New Jersey, New York, Delaware, 
Maryland, Virginia, West Virginia, Ohio, Illi- 
nois, Indiana, or Michigan, or we will quote 
delivery prices in other portions of the United 
States by freight or express. 

A Book of Preserving Recipes. 

Sent free topvery woman wlio (ien<)susthenameof her 
grocer, statinK whether or not he b^'Ub Atlas jari. 

HAZEL-ATLAS GLASS CO., Wheeling, W. Va. 



I^cdwood 
City 



^ 




COUNTY BUILDING, REDWOOD CITY 



THE county seat of San Mateo County. One of the oldest towns 
in California, yet one of the newest and most up-to-date. 
At the head of navigation on an arm of San Francisco Bay, and 
certain to become an important manufacturing center. 

For full particulars address an^ of (he following: 



Curran Clark, Real Estate, 147 Main St., Redwood, 
or, Russ Bldg., 235 Montgomery Street, San 
Francisco. 

Redwood City Commercial Bank. 



Redwood City Realty Co., Inc., Redwood City. 
Savings & Trust Co. of San Mateo County. 
Redwood City Lumber Co. 
Edw. F. Fitzpatrick, Attorney-at-Law. 



Oceanside 



HHMlit •>*'«f - 


> 

Hi 


^6Md _ 


^-m 




, .^^ ,,^mmM^m 


PSn 


H^^B 


H 


BS^^hK^E^^ 




1 


1 


I^^M^^^^B^^^^^^^^^p* 


mi 



The Finest Home Srte and 

Pleasure Resort in San 

Dic^o County 

THE SAN LUIS REY 
VALLEY 

Which is tributary to Ocean- 
side, is a large, beautiful 
and fertile valley watered 
by the San Luis Key rivtir. 
Water in abundance is ob- 
tained from the underflow Rebuilding Corridors at San Luis Rey Mission 
of the river by means of wells and pumping plan's. Large and small tracts can be 
bought at reasonable prices The land is adapted for fruits, vegetables, alfalfa, dairying 
and poultry raising. The San Luis Rey Mission is four miles from Oceanside in the val- 
ley and was founded in 1798, t *^ " Sj H 
Finest quail and duck shooting in America. Auto road complete from Oceanside to 
San Diego. Write Board of Trade, or the following: 



H. T. Blake, Hotel 

Griffen Hayes, Livery 

Oceanside Electric & Gas Co. 

P. J. Brannen, Hardware 

First National Bank of Oceanside 

Nicholls & Reid 

M. N. Casterline, Lumber and Hardware 



Wm. M. Pickle, Express and Drayage 

John Griffin, Box 185 

Geo. E. Morris 

Chas. G. Borden & Co., Dry Goods and Shoes 

A. Walker, Boots and Shoes 

J. M. Jolley 

C. S. Libbey, Vice-President Bank of Oceanside 



I 









CI 

ce 
fo 
Sa 
da 
38 
be 

Sui 
Hu 
Ge« 
Or. 
H. 


\ _ 


Sunny- 
vale... 

California 

nsure great manufacturing 
s at $12,000 per week. Best 
getables in the world-famed 

50 Southern Pacific trains 
r; south from San Francisco 

for handsome illustrated 

Co.} A. J. WIthycombe, Ryan 
niH, Furniture and Harnesii; 

Sunnyvale Hotel; Smith Bros., 
rdro-Carbon Coniiianies; Ralph 




^^^^^^^^^^^ . -^  '■Lll'^'^'^'y^ 

Sunnyvale Canneries Co. 

imatic conditions, location and shipping facilities i 
nter; a dozen concerns now operating with pay-roll 
r cherries, prunes, other fruits, berries, nuts and ve 
nta Clara valley — five to ten-acre tracts sufficient; 
ily, 3 miles from San Francisco bay and deep wate 
miles. Write Sunnyvale Chamber of Commerce 
oklet, free. R. B. Cherington, Sec. or to 

inyvale Realty & Invest nient Co.; J. P. Brown Realty 
tel; Max Wilbeliny, Dellcntemten Store; C. H. Wootiha 
i. D. HiiMton, Contractor and Builder; W. J. Vandrii-k. 
»cerM; F. E. C«>rnell, FoMtiiiatiter; Rudolph AIuenderM; H 
Toinanro. DruKslMt: Geo. E. Booker. Fuel and Hay. 




SEVLMH -S 



:: ANGER. CAL. 



actual record we have 255 clear sunshiny days in the year, 
of the following : 



Sanger 

CALIFORNIA 
Fresno County 



Ihe Lumber City 
The Fruit City 

'X'HE Home of the Orange. 
^ Grape and Peach. Cii- 
matically — the very best. By 
Before locating visit this section or write to any 



Campbell & Root, Real Estate 
Snni^er State Bank 

KinRH River Stage & Transportation Co. 
D. H. I.afTerty, Grand Hotel A Rea- 

taurant 
Commereial Hotel, P. L.. White, Prop. 
T. C. Mix, Hotel de Franee 
A. B. Carlisle, Sierra Hotel 
Hume-Bennett Lumber Co. 



J. M. Morrow, Real Estate 

W. D. Mitchell, Sanger Market 

D. H. Babbe, Real Estate and Live 

Stock of all kinds. 
T. O. Finstermaker, Sanger Bakery 
P. J. Pierce, Hay and Grain 
F. H. Merchant, General Merchandise 
M. W. Bacon, Sanger Transfer 
J. N. Lisle, Furniture and Stove* 



ANYVO THEATRICAL COLD CREAM 



prevents early wrinkles. It is not a freckle coatingr ; it r» 
moves them. ANYVCTCO., 427 North Main St., LojJ Auirelec 



The Reedley Country 

On the famous Kings River is in all points one of the most fertile in 
the San Joaquin Valley. Soil, water and sunsh ne combine to 
make it all that the most visionary booster can have imagined. 
The principal products are raisins, peaches, oranges, apricots, plums, berries, 
grain, and dairy products. 

The water system is the cheapest in the state outside of riparian rights. 
The annual cost of water under the district system, under which we operate, does 
not exceed 50 cents per acre. 

Ten acres in fruit is sufficient to maintain all the expense in keeping an ordi- 
nary family. Twenty acres in fruit is sufficient to maintain an ordinary family 
and hire all the work done, and spend a long vacation in the adjacent mountains, 
or on the seashore. Forty acres is sufficient to maintain the same family and to 
allow an annual deposit in the banks of $2500 to $3000, besides taking the outing. 
Good Schools, Churches, Roads, Telephones, rural deliveries, etc., etc. 

...REEDLEY... 

is the coming town in the San Joaquin Valley. It will be next to Fresno in size 
and commercial importance in a few years. It has three railroads, with ten pas- 
senger trains daily. It has two banks with their own buildings, and all lines of 
merchandise stores. The country and the town will bear thorough investigation. 
Come and see for yourself, or address 

SECRETARY CHAMBER OF COMMERCE, 
or any of the following: Reedley, Calif. 

ShaflTer BroH. 

Jesse Jansen, Jnnsen Wnter Works 

I. J. Peek, Lnmber Dealer 



Lyon Land Co. 

Stinson-Webb Co., Real Estate 

Reedley Land Company 



I7- 



T n 



>j 







San Diego 
California 



AMERICA'S FIRST 
PORT OF CALL 
ON THE PACIFIC 

San Diego Has 

The best climate in the world 
The best water supply in the west 
The best harbor on the Pacific Ocean 
The ideal site for a home 



The Culgoa, one of the Evans Fleet loading supplies in San Diego Harbor. 

For information address JOHN S. MILLS, Sec, Chamber of Commerce, or any of the following: 



First National Bank 

J. O. Lendahl, Real Bstate 

Fred'k Ennist & Co., Real Estate 

O'Neall <& Moody, Real Estate 

South San Diego Inv. Co. 

Southern Trust and Savings Bank 

H. Lynnell, Furniture 

Pacillc Furn. & Show Case Mfg. Co. 

Star Theatre 

Homeland Improvement Co. 



Cottage Realty Co. 

Gunn & Jasper, Real Estate 

Ralston Realty Co; 

M. Hall, Real Estate 

J. W. Master, Patent Broker 

Halsey-Flrman Inv. Co. 

Star Builders' Supply Co. 

Aetna Securities Co. 

J. A. Jackson, Real Estate 



MONTEREY 

CALIFORNIA 



VIEW FROM MONTEREY HEIGHTS SANITARIUM 



<* O 

V/TONTEREY Heights 

Sanitarium is situated 
in the best part of Monte- 
rey. Sheltered by the 
pines from the full force of the ocean breezes and yet having a magnificent view 
of the beautiful bay which, while large enough to shelter the combined navies of 
the Atlantic and Pacific, is almost completely land locked. Monterey has the 
finest winter and summer climate in the United States. 

AN IDEAL HEALTH RESORT 



Lillie Sanatorium 

Merchanta AHHooiatlon 

Monterey County Gas & Electric Co. 

A. M. AKB^ler, Grocer 

David JuoltH Corporation 

WriKlit A: (;oiii(l. Ileal Katate 



F. M. HIlby, DrussiMt 

LIttlcfleld & MaitenKill, Eureka Stable* 

Franoia Doud 

Ella Tliomas, Real Estate 

Monterey Kewa Co. 





UPLAND 



San 

Bernardino 

County 



Business center of the great Ontario Colony, which lies in center of the great 
San Bernardino and Pomona Valley, 40 miles east of Los Angeles, traversed by 
Santa Fe, Salt Lake and S. P. Railroads. Upland is the north two-thirds of the 
Colony, greatly prosperous from its splendid orange and lemon groves. At its 
many packing houses many people are employed on pay-rolls that aggregate many 
thousand dollars annually contributing to the great prosperity of its banks and 
business houses of every kind, and contributing to the rapid growth of the town. 
With Cucamonga and the greater part of Ontario Colony tributary to its business 
and Rocliil lifp UolanH Ip moct Invitlne for the busines." man of home roakeker. 

Tor Information and BooKlet Address Any of iHe Folio-win^ 



Willinina Broa., Planing Mill and Con- 

traetora 
Geo. J. Childa Co., Real Eatate 
Commereial Ilank of I'liland 
Ontario-CuoaniooKa Fruit ExcbanKC 
Stevrart Citrua Aaaoointion 
Colborn Broa.' Upland Store 
H. C. Kennedy, Uplanil Cyolery 



J. T. Brown, Star Barber 
AttTood-BIakealee Lumber Co. 
N. G. Pabl, Real Eatate 
Gordon C. Day, BlaekamithinK 
Strachan Fruit Co. 
Johnaon & Bro'vrn, Groceries 
Upland NeTva 



Help — All Kinds. See Hummel Bros. & Co., 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 




Porterville 

In the Early Orange Belt 

Tulare County, California 

Will have a dozen "talks" with Out West readers 
during the coming year. 

The returns of our thousands of acres of splendid 
orange orchards fully justify the adtivity in well-drilling 
pumping plant installation and new planting now in 
progress. 

Our new colonies offer inducements to men with 
small capital to care for other growers while their own are 
coming into bearing. Drop a line for "Pra(5lical results.^ 

Inquire of Chamber of Commerce, Porter\ille, Cal 



Any Of the Follo%vins Will Supply Information 



Hall & Boiler, Real Estate 

Robt. Horbach. Write for Booklet 

A. J. DeLaney Co., Hardware, EJtc. 

Porterville Lumber Co. 

Valley Grain & Warehouse Co. 

W^Ilko Mentz, Merchant 

Pioneer Land Co. 



Avery & Seybold, Real Bstate 

First National Bank 

W^illlams & Young Co. 

Orange Belt Laundry 

Wm. A. Sears Inv. Co. Booklet free 

Porterville Rochdale Co. 

W^. E. Premo 





LODI 




Go Where You Will 


. 










and you cannot find any better land 
thaui the rich alluvial sediment so 
around Lodi. It is the most pro- 










^^^^ 




ductive grape growing center in 
America. Nearly one-half of the 








table grapes from California were 
shipped from Lodi. This section 
cannot be excelled in this or any 
State for substantial profits. The 
vineyards yield from four to six tons 
to the acre and the Flame Tokay 
grapes bring from $40 to $80 per 
ton. Peaches, Apricots, Plum?, 
Olives, Almonds, Berries, etc., also 
yield satisfactory profits. 








BEFORE DECIDING 


where to locate, send for our new 
booklet "Lodi." Address Lodi 
Board of Trade, Lodi, California. 




LODI RESIDENCE 

CALirORNIA 





ANYVn TUFATRIPAI PHin PRFAM Pi'^'^^^^^ ^^''^y ^''■'^^^c^- it is not a freckle coatlnfir ; it re- 



moves them. ANYVO CO., 427 North Main St., Los Anareles 




"SISKIYOU 

the GOLDEN" 

Ideal Climate 

Unrivaled Scenery 
Great Cattle Country 

Immense Pine Forests 
Rich in Minerals 
Lands Low in Price 

Splendid Farming Country 
Wonderful Fruit Country 
Excellent Schools 

Healthiest Section of the West 



For additional information booklets, maps, etc., address T. J. NOLTON, Sec- 
retary of the Siskiyou County Chamber of Commerce, Yreka, Cal., or any of the 
following: 



Yreka Railroad Co. 

Scofleld & Herman Co., Fnrnitare 

F. Ij. Cobiirn, Att4»rney at I^aw 

nird & Grant, Canh Grocers 

Avery's DruK Store 

L. H. L.ee, Fruit and VeKetablen 



Frank W. Hooper, Attorney-Real Elstate 
Aug:. Simmert, Meat Market 
SItiklyou Abntract Co. 
Hamion & Harmon, lilvery Stable 
Jan. It. TapNcott, Attorney at Lavr 



HEMET, CALIFORNIA 



An Ideal Place 
for a Home 



...SOIL... 

RICH DEEP 

SANDY LOAM 

"Water Supply- 
One of the best in 
the entire south- 
west. 

High and Grammar 
Schools. :: :: :: 

. WWTE == 



ftRGUSON INVESTMENT CO. 
or WILLIAM KINGIiAM 

Hemet, Rivtnide Co., C>1. 




HEMET POTATOES 



PRODUCTS: Potatoes. Alfalfa, Peanuts, Walnuts, Almonds. Berries; 
Citrus and Deciduous Fruits of All Kinds. 



mioValoma tpii,et5?ap 



AX ALL 
DRUG STORE?; 



SARATOGA 

SANTA CLARA COUNTY, CAL. 




THE SPRINGS AT SARATOGA 

In the foothills of the Santa Cruz 
Mountains. The place for a home. Ideal 
climate and location. Quick transpor- 
tation to San Francisco and San Jose. 
Send for booklet. 

Saratoga Board of Trade, Saratogo mprovement Association 

Or any of the following: Charles E.. Bell, Real 
Estate; Corpstein & Metzger, General Mdse. ; Thos. E. 
Smith & Co., General Mdse.; D. Matteri, Lombards 
Hotel; B. Grant Taylor, Attorney at Law; E. C. Stam- 
per, Carpenter: H, P. Hanson, Blacksmith. 



ORLAND 

Offers Opportunities 

The Greatest in California 

THE U. S. Government is 
spending $650,000 to irrigate 
this splendid soil. When com- 
pleted this is to be the model 
irrigation system. 

^ Landowners must sell land in 
tracts of 

40 Acres or Less 



(If they do not, Uncle Sam will). Let us tell 
you all about it. Write to Frank S. Reager, 
Secretary Water Users' Assn.; P. D. Bane, Real 
Estate. W. H. Morrissey, Real Elstate; R. A. 
Pabst, Real Estate, C. C. Scribner, Livery; S. 
Iglick, Physician and Surgeon. 



SAN PEDRO, 




SAN PEDRO HARBOR 



Dodson Bros., Contractors 
Bank of San Pedro 
O. C. Abbott, Real Estate & Ins. 
San Pedro lee Co. 



CALIFORNIA 

TKe Harbor City 

In addition to the large 
amounts being expended 
by the government to im- 
prove the harbor, over six 
million dollars of private 
capital is now being ex- 
pended to improve ship- 
ping facilities. The object 
of this expenditure is to 
furnish terminals for 
coastwise, Oriental and 
South American traffic, 
San Pedro is one of the 
be=t towns in Southern 
California and its pros- 
pects are exceptionally 
bright. Write to the Sec- 
retary of the San Pedro 
CHAMBER OF COM- 
MERCE for information 
regarding San Pedro, or 
any of the following 
firms. 



Huff & Williams Furniture Co» -_ 
J. A. Rocha, Contractor «ft Buif-rer 
N. T, McClennon 
F. H. Poole & Co., Real Estate 




NOTICE!! 

If you're feeling well and do- 
ing Well where you are don't 
move, but, if you're bound to 
move make a good move by 
moving to 

Corning, 
California 



ORANGE GROVE, MAYWOOD COLONY, CORNING. CAL. 



which town contains about 2000 good American people, all of whom get enough to eat 
and wear, and find some time for recreation. Land is good. Price is lovv^. Terms are 
easy. Climate is healthful. Water abundant. Whiskey scarce, the town being DRY. 
Good Schools, Churches, Stores and all modem things that go to make an up-to-date com- 
munity. Lots of free literature for distribution. Write to 



May^vMod Colony Co. 

W. N. WooilMon, Real Estate 

J. E. ItiiKKlen, Mnyvi-ood Hotel 

W. K. Iliiyn, Attorney-at-Iinvr 

W. Herbert Sanmon, May^vood Colony 

Nursery 
A . B. Altken, Iteal Estate 



Richard B. Fripp, Insurance Agent 
CornluK Lumber Co., BulldInK Materials 
J. B. Beaumont, Elephant Livery 
Chas. Cramer, HarneMs and Shoes 
The Diamond Match Co., Bulldine Mate- 
rials 
The Bank of Cornins 





|f¥*5^ 



It's Summer All The Year 
at Pacific Grove, California 
The Winter Seaside Resort 

The CALIFORNIA CHAUTAUQUA on the 

beautiful bay of Monterey, 128 miles south of San 

Francisco, Sunshine and no frost. Flowers bloom 

winter. A paradise for invalids and convalescents. 

Surf bathing every day. Fine new bath house. Won- 
derful submarine gardens. Glass bottom boats. Boat- 
ing and fishing. Magnificent scenery and charming drives. 
Beautiful military post. Fine schools. Old 
mission and famous histoiic buildings. All 
round trip railroad ticket ^re good for a visit 
to Pacific Grove without extra charge. 

For literature and information address 

BOARD OF TRADE. PACIFIC GROVE. CAUF., 

or any of ihe (oUowinc firms: 
Holman's Department Store; D. R. Beardsley. Gro- 
cer: Pacific Improvement Co., Real Estate; Culp 
Brothers, Stationery, Sporting Goods; C. S. Harris, 
Keal EsUle; Monterey County Gas & Electric Co.; 
Winston & Winston, Del Mar Hotel; Alexander & 
Fitzsimroons, Real E«tatp; Long fit Gretler, Pharma- 
cists; Strong fie Camp, Real Elstate Ac Insurance, 
Mrs. Thomas Gibson, Grove Cafe; Thos. M. Luke, 
Mammoth Stables: W. M. Davidson, Real Estate. 



1 





SAN JOSE 



"«' 



IN 



HE FAMOUS 
SANTA CLARA VALLEY 

CALIFORNIA 



Fifty miles south from San Francisco. Population including immediate 
connecting suburbs, 57,820 (City Directory Census). The Educational, 
Horticultural, Scenic and Home Center of California. ^ Magnificent all- 
year-round climate. Stimulating, not enervating. ^ To learn the facts of 
this beautiful section of California, address Dept. B, 

San Jose Chamber of Commerce, San Jose, Cal. ^^ *'" 



T. S. Montgomery & Son, Real Gstate 

Hotel St. James 

The First National Bank of San Jose 

The Bank of San Jose, California 
Security State Bank of San Jose 
Garden City Bank and Trust Co. 



Followinc 

Jos. H. Rucker & Co., Real E:state, 

Cor. 2nd and Santa Clara Sts. 
E. A. & J. O. Hayes 
C. P. Anderson & Co., Real Estate 
A. C. Darby, Real Estate 
James A. Clayton <& Co. (Inc.), Real 
Estate and Investments 



BEAUTIFUL 

Brookdale 



In the heart of the 
mountains, yet close to 
ocean and city. Only a 
few miles from the Fre- 
mont Big Tree Grove and 
the State Sequoia Park. 

A village of lovely 
homes set among groves 
of redwood, bay, spruce, 
oak, madrono, and other 
trees. The purest water 
in the state can be piped 
into every home. No 
liquor selling, nor other 
objectionable business. 
Ideal for summer resi- 
dence, or for all-the-year 
homes. For illustrated 
descriptive pamphlet, write 
to 



BROOnOAUE LANDS COMPANY 

BrooKdale, Santa Crviz County, California 




Hummel Bros. & Co., "Help Center." 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 




South 



em 



Pacific. . . 



ALL RAIL ROUTE 
TO THE 

Yosemite 
National Park 




EL CAPITAN 

In connection via. Merced with Yosemite Valley Railroad; 
Los Angeles to El Portal (the park line), where stop in 
new hotel or camp is made over night; 3^ hours by stage, 
thence to the HEART OF YOSEMITE VALLEY. Side 

trip at Low Rates, Yosemite to Wawona and the WON- 
DERFUL MARIPOSA BIG TREES. 



Ask our agent for details or enquire at City Ticket Office 

600 South Spring Street, s!X Los Angeles 



J 




Gem of the Sierras 




LOW EXCURSION RATES 

SUMMER OF 1908 

Fishing, Boating, Riding^, Hunting, Mountain 
Climbing, Driving, Excellent Hotel Accomoda- 
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r. A. QRJHjiM 
A. a F. & p. A. 



600 South Spring Street 

LOS ANGELES, CAL, 



SOUTHERN PACIFIC 



Stopover allowed for 
side trip to GRAND 
CANYON. 
Ask for booklets. 



EL TOVAR-W -million 
Hotel on brink of Can- 
yon -- Harvey manage- 
ment. 



Santa Fe 



East 



Round Trip 'Rjates 

Baltimore, Md $107.50 Memphis, Tenn $ 67.50 



Boston, Mass 110.50 

Chicago, 111 72.50 

/Council Bluffs, la. 60.00 

Denver, Colo 55-oo 

Houston., Texas 60.00 

Kansas City, Mo 60.00 

Leavenworth, Kans 60.00 



Mineola, Texas 60.00 

New Orleans, La 67.50 

New York, N. Y 108.50 

Omaha, Neb 60.00 

Philadelphia, Pa 108.50 

St. Louis, Mo 67.50 

St. Paul, Minn 73-50 



Washington, D. C $107.50 

On sale Jtug I7'IS'24'25. Sept. IS and 16, except tickets 
to Denver which will be on sale Sept. 14 and 15 only 

These tickets will be good on the eastbound journey for 10 days from 

date of sale, and good for return passage 90 days from date of sale, but 

in no case later than October 31. 

Stopovers will be allowed, but only in certain territories-. 

Tickets for return via Portland will be sold at rates from $15.00 to $26.00 

higher than the&e rates, which apply via direct lines only. 

We will sell excursion tickets to many other Eastern cities, including 

some convention points. Rates will be gladly quoted upon application. 

These tickets are for first-class passage and will be honored on "The 

California Limited." which carries only first-class sleeping cars. All 

other trains from Southern California carry second-class equipment. 



H. K. GREGORY 

Asst. Gen. Pas*. Agt. 

SAN FRANQSCO, GAL. 



JOHN J. BYRNE 

Asst. Pass. Traffic Mgr. 
LOS ANGELES, GAL. 






SUMMER 
VACATIONS 




THat's -wKat "we all -want, 
and if yoxi get yoxars tKe 
most important qiaestion 
will be— WHERE? 

GRAND CANYON 

OF ARIZONA 



,5«\-#*'. S«'vV 





•: :A-* <. 






''U M l> 






"EL TOVAR". $200,000.00 HOTEL AT GRAND CANYON 



Offers more beautiful scenery, more quiet and 
rest here close to nature, and the expense is 
low compared to other first class resorts. The 
beautiful hotel "El Tovar" under "Harvey" 
management, is sure to please. ^ During the 
summer months, low rate round trip excursion 
tickets will be sold to the Grand Canyon. 



For complete information address any SANTA FE agent or 
JNO. J. BYRNE, Asst. Pass. Traffic Mgr., Los Angeles, Calif. 



LONG BEACH 



CALIFORNIA'S FINEST HOME SITE 
AND GREATEST BEACH RESORT 




BATH HOUSE AND ESPLANADE 

POPULATION 23,000 

Tnirty-rivc minutes riac rrom Los Angeles, Excellent School 
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Streets. NO SALOONS. Hotel Virginia, tKe Finest Sea Side 
Hotel on tne Coast, just rinisnea at a cost or $L000,000. For copy 
or booklet, aaaress 

JAS. A. MILLER, Secretary 

Long Beach Chamber of Commerce 

Or any ot tne roUov^^ing nrms 



Hotrl Virginia 

First NntionnI Bank of I.ohk Bench 
The Natiuonl Bank of Lonx Beach 
Alanilton Land Co. 
I.OH AnicelrM Ilock & Terminal Co. 
Lnhed SyndU-atea Co., Ltd. 
The EdiHon Electric Co. 
F. \V. Stearns & Co., Real Estate 
Geo. H. Blount, Real Estate and Invest- 
ments 



Dr. L. A. Perce 

J. W. Wood 

Western Boat & Engine W^orks, Inc. 

Iloy >. Carr & Co. 

W. H. Barker, Real Estate, Loans and 

InveMtmonts 
Globe Kenlty Co., Real Estate & Loans 
Palace Cafe. lUO Pine Ave. 
Dr. W. It. l>rice, Pres. The National Gold 

DredKine Co. 



g^; ;!JJ^V.vyjr,Vt.^% ^'^^^^^ 





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Hummel Bros. & Co., "Help Center." 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 





U. S. Trade Mark 




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OUT WC3T 



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1^^^ CENTS 
A COPY 



Copjrrurht 1908. by Out West Magazine Company 



LOS ANGELES——...,^ SAN FRANCISCO 

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The First and Only Complete Edition of J 

VOLTAIRE'S WORKS | 

ever published in English has just been completed by the ^ 

CRAFTSMEN OF THE ST. HUBERT GUILD J 

New translations by WILLIAM F. FLEMING, including the Notes of TOBIAS ^ 

SMOLLETT, Revised and Modernized. A Critique and Biography ^ 

by the RT. HON. JOHN MORLEY, M. P. J 

IpH^nllDESPREAD interest has prevailed in the publication of this great author's works, as it C, 
I WVi marks a new era in the world of literature. The real history of Voltaire's life and the • 
A A M true character of his writings have been de&ied English-reading people until this work J 
I^AJil was translated. a 

Voltaire is eminent alike as historian, sage, satirist, wit, pliilosoofaer, ecoaomist, X 
dramatist, poet, essayist, as ttie champion of mental Wotrty and the foe of intolerance in i.li iV 
Its forms. His historical writings are the creation of one who was the admired friend of the 
Sovereigns of his day. Histories written with such opportunities gain in every way. His volumes 
on "The Age of Louis XIV" are by the one man best fitted to treat the Grand Monarch and his 
environment. 

'La Henriade"is the greatest masterpiece of Epic poetry ever written and the most eloquent 
presentation of religious toleration the world has ever known. His tragedies are the most prized 
Classics of France, and his Dramas have been played a hundred years. 

The "Philosophical Dictionary" is the best known of Voltaire's works. The writings are 
lucid and self-explanatory, an inexhaustible compendium of information and delightful enter- 
tainment. He was among the first great Encyclopedists. 

Voltaire was the precursor of a new civilization. As much credit must be given him as 
any man in all history for the permanent establishment of this great American Republic. There 
is scarcely any successful reform movement, among the many to the credit of the nineteenth cec- 
tury, which was not either originated or pioneered by Voltaire. 



Voltaire will always be regarded as 
the greatest man in literature, of modern 
times, and perhaps even of all times. 

— GOBTHB 



Atheism and fanaticism are the tno 
poles of a universe of confusion and horrcr. 
The narrow zone of virtue is between 
those two. March with a firm step in that 
path; believe in God and do good. 

^V'OLTAIRB 



FORH- THREE HANDSOME VOLUMES 

Size 8>^ X 5>^ inches— 13,034 Pages, over 160 
illustrations of which 4^ &■*« hand colored. 

Divided into three sections: Historical, i6 volumes; General Literature, embodying his 
dramas in s volumes. Poems and Essays in 2 volumes, Introductory and Romances in 4 vol- 
umes, and Biography, containing Biographical Critique of Voltaire, in 5 volumes; Philosophical 
Dictionary in 10 volumes. The forty-third volume is an Index. It has been compiled in such a 
way that it is in itself a most interesting volume, 

'rue FDITION "^^^ text is printed from a new type, elegant and clear, on specially 
1 I ILi LL/I I IV71^ made paper. Many of the illustrations are celebrated in the realm of 
art as rare examples of the most exquisite and piquant old French designs, special to the text, 
forming in themselves a gallery of famous historic characters. Each volume has a frontispiece 
by world-famed masters. Minute precaution has been taken to bring each feature of the work 
up to the stage of perfection. 

THE COMPLETE SET SENT FREE FOR APPROVAL 

We have bound a very few of these sets in English Basket Buckram (Red) and while the 
stock lasts we are going to offer them on these exceptionally low terms : Send the set to you 
free for examination and approval. If satisfactory, remit us 83.00 and remit the balance I57 00 
in small monthly payments. The Sets are Limited and Numbered. When these few sets are 

exhausted the price will be advanced to $172.00. A SPLENDID, MASSIVE LIBRARY OF THE 

WORLD'S GREATEST LITERATURE, ALL ON APPROVAL. No one who possesses a library, either 
large or small, can afford to let this opportunity pass. 

REMEMBER- 
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FEW SETS 
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Akron, Ohio 
Please send me, charges prepaid, the complete works 
of Voltaire, in Forty-Three (43) Volumes, bound in Red 
Basket Buckram. If satisfactory, I will remit you $3.00 
at once and $3.00 per month for 19 months. If not, I Will 
advise you within ten days. 



Signature 

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City , 

State 

O.W.9-08 



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AKRON, OHIO 



Date. 



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Los i\n^eles, Cal. 



The Moo Cow Moo 



My Pa held me up to the 
Moo Cow Moo 
So clost I could almost 
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If your town would like to hear it 
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Manager 

EDMUND VANCE COOKE 
ENTERTAINMENTS 

11338 May field Road Cleveland, 0. 



XTbe German Savinos 
anb Xoan Society 

526 California St*, San Francisco 



Guaranteed Capital 
Capital actually paid up in cash 
Reserve and Contingent Funds 
Deposits June 30. 1908 . 
Total Assets 



$ 1.200,000.00 
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BOARD OF DIRECTORS: N. Ohlandt. Daniel 
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Vol. XXIX No. 3 



SEPTEMBER, 1908 




THE ARTISTS' PARADISE 

II. 

By CHAS. F. LUMMIS 

INCE certain scattering remarks in these pages about 

The Artists' Paradise, I have been challenged to show 

cause as to what right I have to talk about either of the 

three terms, That is easy. Very little — but the Begin- 



"Art"' is translating as much of God as you can understand and 
in the way that you understand Him. "God" is an easy word of 
three letters that anybody can understand somehow. The reason 
for Art is that nobody except the First Author can fully understand 
the Original. But everybody can understand more or less what 
a smart interpreter it is that can take a little patch of coarse linen, 
pulled tight over four sticks of white pine, and, with a bunch of 
hog-bristles or badger-hairs, and a few tin do-funnies that squeeze 
out red, green, yellow and blue mush, produce something not exactly 
in the image of its Maker, indeed, but recognizable as the counter- 
feit of a landscape or a person. The original landscape has too 
many million blades of grass and leaves, and rocks and ripples for 
us to See. The translator brings it all into words of one syllable 
adapted to our comprehension — with a green swabble for the grass 
and leaves, and a blue ditto for the water, and other glittering gen- 
eralities of color and form, according to his wit and his fluency in 
the language. The highest art is in picking the passages which the 
translator can best understand himself and make most intelligible 
to others. Among the many immaturities of men, doubtless God 
looks on this one of .\rt most tolerantly. Even as we do when the 
child tries to "do as papa does." It is a shallow fool who laughs at 
the three-year-old mimic. It is a heredity in both cases. 

.\n "artist" is one that tries to do this little trick of translation. 
"Artistic" means an easy material bit of evidence which a great 
interpreter may reasonably hope to make intelligible to the audience. 

CoPTNiOHT leos BY Out WcST Magazine Co All niOHTS Rcscrvcd 



THE^ ARTISTS' PARADISE. 175 

Ever}thing that Gcxl ever made is beautiful. The only reason why 
every grain of sand, and spear of grass, and leaf of a fluttering tree 
is not "artistic" is that it's beyond the translator. For the same 
kind of reasons that you cannot put Shakespeare into French, nor 
Don Quixote into English, the incomparable preponderance of God's 
creation is not "artistic" — that is, not of the sort whose reproduc- 
tion can make the finite mind sit up and take notice. If "artistic" 
meant interesting, beautiful, noble, worthy of love and admiration, 
there is no atom in tl^e universe which would not be artistic. But 
artistic doesn't mean that at all — it means simply so much of the 
beautiful and admirable- and desirable as is required to bump our dull 
minds into recognition of these qualities. God therefore is not an 
Artist in any scientific sense — though this may hurt,Jii6 feelings of 
those lovable imitators whose least fault is science. If God were an 
artist, there would be no o:{he|-s. It is b^'use He was a Creator 
that there are artists to imitate Him. 'ff the universe itself were 
brushed on canvas, no 14 x 17 bedauber would try. But the model 
is sky and stars and th€;»wnite-laughing sea and the glad earth — 
all real, all alive and goo^ tofeJook at and live in and love in and die 
with — and so there is.nfot only room but welcome for the nice fellow, 
with his chin-hair pointed, to make little sketches of a little piece 
of it all, in a shape that we can frame and hang against the walls 
that hide us too much from reality. 

That this is true, though crudely said, is best proved by the word 
"artistic" when you sit down with it for awhile. The patient hand 
that swings the spheres to a hair surely did nothing that was not 
worthy; yet not a billionth of His output is available on canvas. 
The trouble is not that it isn't all admirable, but that most of it is 
beyond our thought — not to say beyond our imitative fingers. It is 
only the obvious things, the things of bright color and striking form, 
as to which we can put on our little red-topped boots and Play 
Father. These are the things we call "artistic" — those beginnings 
of the infinite alphabet which we can understand and repeat. 

Naturally, then, there are degrees of "artistic" — that is, classes 
of things which we can handle with greater facility and with less 
or more effect. A tree is more artistic than a telegraph pole. A 
Dutch windmill is more artistic than a Woodmansee. A river is 
more artistic than an irrigation ditch. A Greek vase is more artistic 
than a tin pail. An Arab dress is more artistic than overalls. Why? 
Because they are nearer natural ; therefore simpler to translate ;* 

*I don't mean easier to "draw;" but what beauty is left in them is so 
dehumanized, so subtle, that no finite fingers can make them hadsome to 
finite eyes. The grain of the wood, the temper of the tree, is still in the 
civilized pole; the water has still the river's quality, and even under com- 
pulsion is still gnawing wilful little curves in the banks of the straight 
gash in which it is corseted. Even in the bucket, the luster that shone in 
the darkness of the earth's entrails asserts the metal nature. But who can 
paint the sheen or the grain or the current-writings? They are beautiful, 
but they are not artistic. 




Copyrieht 1890 by Chas. F. Lummis 

An Ancient Ckrkmonial in Acoma 



THE ARTISTS' PARADISE. 179 

therefore more intelligible even to us who, in spite of civilization, 
have not yet learned any Esperanto as well as we know the mother- 
tongue of humanity. We are highly civilized, and pink-teaed, and 
harnessed to business; but we are still human (at least some of us, 
a little) and inclined to call it savage under the skin. We still vote 
war (which is murder on a large scale without the excuse of a duel), 
we still gossip (which is assassination by wholesale and without any 
excuse at all), we still grab if any have anything grab-able — and, 
in spite of our silks, we are no better than the cave-men, but only 
weaker, and more fussy and more dressed. Also, less creative and 
more "artistic." 

As for "Paradise," that is equally easy to be defined. A Paradise 
is what God would have made if He had consulted you — and would 
make over as fast as you discovered your mistakes or changed ycur 
whims. A Paradise is where the things you like are the Chief 
Order of Business ; and the things you don't like can't catch the 
chairman's eye at all. An Artist's Paradise is where the picturesque 
hangs upon his neck like the arms of a honeymoon, and he even 
forgets to care whether he'll sell a canvas, so glad is he to make one. 

If the earth were a shop-window "dressed" with waxen and 
Impossible Shes, by a cosmic floor-walker, one might be an Artist 
who could reproduce that window over across the street in its mate, 
or upon canvas in its counterfeit. But as a matter of fact, this 
world-window is "dressed" by the Boss, and not by any of his hire- 
lings; and an artist must have not only the faculty of imitation, but 
some quality of the author. He must have imagination and prophecy. 
He must have reverence and respect for authority. He must look 
up not only to the First Author, but to the Masters who plied the 
imitative trade a thousand years before he was born. He must be 
vulnerable to the reasons that induced the Almighty to make this 
nice little world in the first place. He must be something more than 
a walking mirror able to reflect the exact image that confronts him. 

Any man who is really an artist will find the Southwest the most 
imminent and audible prompting of God that he has ever encoun- 
tered. No other cue is so likely to make him forget his Audience 
and remember only his Part, as a region where the ingenuity, the 
imagination, and the love of God are so visible at every turn. A 
person who slaps colors on to canvas ever so admirably, but who 
cannot be stirred and moved and inspired when he sits down, for 
instance, in the presence of a place where God used the broad-axe 
upon landscapes which elsewhere went through the planing mill ; 
who does not feel a new thrill all over his head and his fingers in 
the presence of pictorial human beings, who are the visible, tangible 
proofs, and lovable hyphens, from the Stone to the Electric Age in 
the one life; who cannot feel what it means to work among the 



THE ARTISTS' PARADISE. 



181 



landscapes and the facial types where he can see a diamond drill 
operated by gentlemen who occupy their evenings with dancing 
the Mountain Chant of 2,000 years ago ; who is not pricked to some 
new agility of his artistic fingers by getting acquainted with folk 
who grind their bread as in the early times of scripture, yet wear 
the sudden product of an overall factory — all is, he isn't an artist. 
He may be able to buy all the canvas and tubes and brushes com- 
petent to his job. He may be able to connubiate the three after a 
fashion that shall fetch him handsome prices from the new-rich, 
liut he isn't an artist, and he never will be. It is high time for the 
artists to come upon the Southwest. Here, as everywhere else that 




Navajos Rvnning a Diamond DRILI, Photo by Col. Code 

civilization touches, the artistic is evaporating like snow before the 
sun. Within my personal acquaintance, there were a dozen national 
costumes in vogue in the Southwest absolutely diflferent one from 
the other, yet as stirringly picturesque as any in the world. The 
national costume of the Pueblo Indians — particularly of the women 
— has never been surpassed anywhere in either comfort or pictur- 
esqueness. Civilization has triumphed by introducing the mother- 
hubbard. The charro costume of Mexico — neither in Abyssinia, 
nor in the court of the fourteenth Louis, nor anywhere else in the 
world, has there been a more picturesque garb. Within a few years 
the Mexican hacendado has abandoned it. The same thing is going 
on everywhere. In Mexico, thank God, when a lady goes to the 
service of God at mass in the morning, she must wear the old-time 




NaTIONAI. Dress of Pue;BI,0 Women Photo by Chas. F. Lummis" Q 




A PuEBix) Woman 



Photo by Chas. F. Lummis 



THE ARTISTS' PARADISE. 



185 




A Mission Indian Type 



Photo by Chas. F. Lummis 



costume, with the beautiful mantilla — but after that, the rest of the 
day, you will see her in a French hat and dress. In Peru and Chile, 
in Central America and Brazil, they have all 'come into the planing 
mill. There is no visible nationality any more — except with a few 
old-fashioned people of certain ceremonial times which even the 
monkey-march of civilization has not yet overwhelmed. I would 
not condescend to ask any artist which is better worthy of his brush 
— these national dresses or the deadly universal likeness which is 
so rapidly replacing them. The few scattering pictures here not 
only ask the question but answer it. The first reason why the 
Southwest is still The Artists' Paradise is because there are thou- 
sands of people still so unspoiled that they wear the immemorial 
garb. The manta and the buck-skin — even the G-string and the 
overcoat and panties of gypsum stain — may not be as polite, but 
are certainly more artistic, than hand-me-down suits at $2.98, 




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Photo by Chas. F. Lummis 

PuEBW) Girls at the Wheat- washing 



188 OUT WEST 

A factory of any sort is not artistic. Hand-work of any sort is 
artistic. The Southwest is the only milHon square miles in the 
United States where hand-work is stilf largely practiced. Even the 
people who have deserted their buck-skins for denim overalls still 
make the best blankets in the world ; still make silverware which 
the judicious prefer to Tiffany's ; still maintain that noble primitive 
art of basketry — not only by the Nevada "squaw" whose latest 
basket sold for $2,500, but some build their houses by basketry, or 
apply the basket to architecture. I have a certain pleasure in repro- 
ducing- here a picture of the oldest bridge on the Rio Grande River. 
That treacherous stream, which I have forded in flood, has carried 
out every modern iron bridge ever built upon it. But this basket 
bridge of the Pueblo Indians has withstood all floods — and it is 
simply a series of big basket caissons filled with rocks, and has hewn 
planks for treadway. 

An American dance may be very nice — but I have never heard it 
described as artistic by an artist. But no artist could see any one 
of the ceremonial dances still in vogue across 2,000 miles of the 
vSouthwest without feeling that it was one of the most picturesque 
things ever seen by man. 

It is not artistic to cut your wheat with a reaper, stack it in 
elevators, grind it in mills and knead it in tin pans ; but in a big 
area of the Southwest the bread-making is a picture from start to 
finish — even threshing the wheat with a flock of trampling goats 
instead of a machine ; and the washing of the wheat at the desert 
stream by statuesque maidens, and the grinding by them in the very 
same way that the Bible itself takes cognizance of, and the baking 
in ovens that are a picture by themselves. 

Doubtless the hardest thing of all to paint is that glorious stuff 
which we cannot see, but which makes everything beautiful that 
we do see ; which is too thin for our eyes to grasp, and yet so potent 
that without it they would pop out of their sockets ; which is taste- 
less, yet without which we could never take another bite ; which is 
colorless, yet tinges everything on earth — the Air. The atmosphere 
of the Southwest is perhaps the hardest in the world for artists to 
catch. It is so subtle, so magical, so mixed with witchcraft, tliat it 
fools the sharpest eye and laughs at the cleverest palette. Yet no 
other atmosphere is so well worth painting, and no other is so 
critical a test of the greatest artist. An air that brings the very 
rocks to life, that glows and broods upon the desert until strange 
unrealities fill the world, and one sits in the beautiful presence of a 
dream ; an air that makes night visible, and reveals a million new 
stars, and transfigures the moon to a glory past what anyone ever 
dreamed of who has not seen it here; an air that ebbs and flows in 




A MojAVK Family 



Photo by Chas. F. Lummw 




A MoQUi Famii<y 



THE ARTISTS' PARADISE. 191 

almost visible tides in the vast gashes that time and its patient tools 
have carven upon the face of the Southwest in titan wrinkles, and 
with the innumerable ingenuities of God paints new colors upon 
them with every passing hour — that is something worth the while 
for the world's biggest interpreters to butt their heads against, happy 
but futile. I would like to have seen Turner set down upon a certain 
brink I know, at a certain time — but with half-inch cables on him 
to keep him from falling into the gulf from sheer delight. Only a 
few weeks ago, after a gap of sixteen or seventeen years, I had the 
joy again of sitting there with "Old Tom" Moran, who has come 
nearer to doing the Impossible than any other meddler with paints- 
and-canvas in the Southwest. No one knows better than he the 
hopelessness of painting God's masterpiece ; but no one so well has 
made a transcript for our comprehension. He has just repainted 
his great picture of the Grand Caiion ; and I would like to see 
someone try to better it. 

While there are many "scenic routes," I never knew a railroad to 
be built for scenery — unless you would call the Mt. Wasliington and 
Pike's Peak and such freaks "Railroads." Coal, and -.freight, and 
grades and other uninteresting things are the inspiraiion of high- 
ways. Every transcontinental or important railroad in America 
follows an Indian trail ; and the Indian trail followed a deer trail, 
or buffalo trail ; and the common object of the buffalo, the Indian 
and the railroad is to "get there." It is only an accident, and dis- 
covered later, that the "getting there" involved going over places 
where you really wanted to stop and turn around and look — and 
finally came to observation cars. 

It was an accident that the Santa Fe route when it followed the 
line of least resistance across "the Great American Desert" (as it 
was called fifty years ago) skimmed the cream of the artist's interest 
of the Southwest. There is no railroad in the world, not even 
excepting the Peruvian Central — which penetrates such a wonder- 
land of the pictorial in geography and in humanity. 

From far higher than the top of Mt. Washington to far below 
the level of the sea ; through pine forests and alkali flats ; through 
the coal country and the land of turquoise, and gold and silver and 
copper; in sight of the American Alps, and across the American 
Sahara; from the busiest bedlam of American civilization, through 
communities that were building six-story tenements of a thousand 
.souls per house when Caesar conquered Gaul ; where the elements 
have shaped upon the plains vast sandstone forts beside which the 
highest constructions ever reared by man would look like playthings, 
and where the level plain is rifted with a thousand chasms into any 
one of which the city of New York could be wrecked without a 
splinter showing at the surface — to say nothing of an abyss wherein 
every city of the New World could be dumped and lost for good. 

It doesn't hurt me, and it doesn't hurt the cow-pastures and the 
cows, that they are so innumerably and innocuously increased and 
multiplied upon inoffensive canvas. For the unweaned eye, there 
are few more stimulating models than a cow. 

But I cherish the comfortable hope to live long enough to see the 
Southwest discovered by artists big enough to try it — at least big 
enough to dare to Try to try. When they discover it. they will begin 
to discover themselves. 




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193 




AN HOUR OF IDLENESS 

(Summer in the Sa)ita Cruz Mountains.) 
By MARION CUMMINGS STANLEY. 

O LIE here prone, relaxed, wholly at rest 
On Earth's warm mother-breast — 
So close you almost hear the rhythmic beat, 
So close you almost feel the stir and start 
Of life's full tide that pulses from her heart — 
Is it not sweet ! 

Rest for the weary feet that long have trod 

Far from the living sod ; 

Rest for the weary brain 

With life's insistent problems ever vexed ; 

And ah. surcease thrice blest ! 

For the tired heart, faint with the overstrain 

Of passion and of pain — 

Rest! 

Just to lie quietly and half a-dream. 

Without a thought or care; 

To listen drowsily ; 

To view from half-shut eyes 

The painted wood cnshadowed or agleam. 

So lies a babe against the bosom fair 

That nourishes — now lists the lullabies 

With lowered lids, now slowly doth upraise 

Its long still wondering gaze 

Unto the heaven of its mother's eyes. 

The brake-fern's tender grace 

Droops lightly on my face. 

Far, far above, a bit of heaven's a-lean 

The dusky redwoods' columned boles between ; 

The redwood branches crossed 

Their dark-lined patterns trace 

Across its perfect blue. 

And now again — O softly breathe ! — I see 

Across yon leafy path that winds the wood 

A shy brown mother-quail come forth to lead 

Her pretty brood. 

Alas ! the alien meets her startled ken. 

And lo, in an eye's twinkling every one 

Has disappeared, has gone, 

Has turned a crumpled leaf — all's still again. 

Aha, my woodland babes, I see you feed 

(I know the lore of fairies) on fern-seed. 



AN' HOUR OF IDLENESS. 195 

All's still again. That little fir tree there 

Still keeps at every tender tip alight 

The pale green flame of spring. Upon it, bright 

Dappling the dusky green. 

The yellow flecks of sunshine flicker fair ; 

And there above, between 

The woven laces of the redwood screen, 

The God of Day sends one long golden dart 

To find the fragrant laurel's hidden heart. 

Ah, bold Apollo, your wooing's all in vain ; 

You'll never find your dainty Daphne now ; 

Yet here's a wreath to bind your bow and brow 

As fair as any on lUyssa's plain. 

Hear how that dove's sweet moan from yon deep dell 

Melts goldenly in seas of circling calm. 

This is no silence of the void, death-dumb, 

But murmurous of life as is the shell 

Of Ocean's surge. A dreary interlude 

Of life's triumphant psalm, 

Where one may hear the trees a-grow, the hum 

Of all those filmy wings invisible. 

Ephemeral creatures of life's lightest mood 

Momently poured upon the passing hour. 

All feeling floats upon its rhythm subdued. 

And see, there in the midst — a wider space — 

A tiny gleaming cloud doth lightly float — 

A fairy boat, 

A sail from those far treasure-islands lost 

Our wondering childhood knew. 

Only to lie and lie 

Steeped in the golden hush of afternoon, 

Lapped thus deliciously 

In lotus-languors sweet 

And soft caressing calms. 

I hear a little stream far-hidden croon 

As to itself low lapsing lullabies. 

Sudden a wandering wind runs lightly by ; 

The gnarled white-oak waves her wrinkled palms ; 

The laurel thicket whispers low surprise ; 

The pine tree sighs, and drops her odorous balms ; 

The murmurous redwoods call 

From hill to hill ; 

Madrono bright replies, 

A moment shakes her coral boughs, and all 

Her broad green garments rustle and are still. 



AN- HOUR OF IDLENESS. 



197 



Silence again, and there on yonder tree 

A frisky squirrel just about to sup 

Stands statue-still, a slender acorn cup 

Still held aloft in one brown hand ; and now 

A flurry of falling leaves, and suddenly 

A blue-jay drops upon a near-by bough, 

Flaunts his fine crest and cocks his beady eye, 

Flirts his long tail, then chides 

With raucous throat, 

While chipmunk frisking nigh 

Stops and derides 

In shrill staccato note. 

Thought closes softly as a folding flower. 
Rock, mother Earth, on thy warm bosom deep, 
Rock me to sleep, 
To sleep! 
Tucson, Arizona. 




198 




A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO 

By J. rORREY CONNOR 
X. 
PETER EXPLAINS. 
ETER, swinging through the public park of Vera Cruz, 
was ruminating on a letter he had received — the first 
word that had come to him from the professor's party 
in two weeks. 
Much may happen in two weeks, he reflected. The 
girl one loves may in that time become the girl one has loved ; 
and the girl one has loved may have become the girl one loves. 
Peter thoughtfully whistled a bar from his favorite ditty: "If 
Ever I Cease to Love." 

Other changes had occurred, as well. The breaking out of a 
revolution in Guatemala had caused his cousin to abandon the trip 
for the present ; therefore, Lowell had sent Peter on to Vera Cruz 
to cancel reservations made for the steamer which sailed on the 
twenty-seventh, while he, in company with Angel Jiminez, of re- 
cent acquaintance, had gone mound-hunting somewhere in the in- 
terior. 

Among other things, the letter mentioned the probable arrival in 
the State of Vera Cruz of the professor's party, plus Mr. Cook and 
daughter, of Chicago. The professor, bearing a letter of intro- 
duction to Angel Jiminez, was also on mound-hunting bent. There 
would be a meeting — entirely unexpected, and therefore, unavoid- 




OivD Church, Vera Cruz 




"At a TiRN IX THE Path Bloomed a Red Parasol" 



200 OUT WEST 

able — between Miss Pauline Staines and that old mummy, 
Lowell. It was high time that somebody took a hand in their 
affairs — 

Peter stopped short, and fixed an approaching vision with a rap- 
turous eye. 

Before him stretched a broad, gravelled path, checkered with 
light and shade ; and at the turn of the path there had suddenly 
bloomed upon his astonished sight a red parasol — such a one as he 
had once likened to a big, overblown morning-glory. 

"Peter!" cried Polly. "What under the sun, moon and stars and 
the Milky Way are you doing in Vera Cruz? This is only the 
twenty-first." 

"I am looking for a place where I can spoil a beautiful thirst," 
Peter gravely said. "S'pose we wander round to the band stand, 
and have five or six lemonades in rapid succession." 

"S'pose we do," Polly agreed. "Peter, what do you think of this 
for a tropical climate ? I can't breathe any further down than my 
collar button. I hope the band will play something nice and 
creepy," she went on, as they took chairs in the shade of a shelter- 
ing palm.. "It should, you know, when the villain appears." 

"Thanks, awfully." 

Polly swiftly turned and eyed him with grave commiseration. 

"Tell me why you followed me to Vera Cruz," she said. 

"I believe I was here first," Peter mildly returned. 

"Why are you here?'' 

"I came to see the girl I love," he slowly, deliberately replied. 

"Oh, Peter! Did you come to see me? I — I am so sorry that I 
— that I ever thought you inconstant. You have the truest heart 
in the world." 

"Er — yes," said Peter. 

"We have been parted for a long time, and you were getting 
lonely." 

"Er — yes," Peter brilliantly remarked. 

"You don't know how good it seems to see you again. If it 
were not for the band-master, who is looking right this way, I'd 
be tempted to give you a real bear-hug. How's Mr. Weston?" 

"Old Lowell? Oh, he's all right." 

"There's something amiss — I can tell by the expression of your 
face. What is it?" 

"Nothing — nothing at all." 

"But there must be! Can't you confide in me? You used to — " 

"Sure!" said Peter, with inspiration. "My machete — you know 
what a bargain I got, Polly — has disappeared. Someone must have 
stolen it." 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 201 

'*Which, of course, is a calamity. But you didn't come all the 
way from the City of Mexico to tell me that ?" 

"No," he acknowledged, with an embarrassed wriggle. "I came 
to—" 

"Oh, my poor Peter! It's useless — perfectly useless! We 
never can be more than friends." 

"What?" 

"Friends." 

"Oh!" Peter blankly observed. 

"You must take back your ring." 

"Oh !" said Peter, again. 

"You will be wanting it for some one else soon." 




PuBuc Fountain, Vera Cruz 

"Oh!" 

There was silence for a space. Polly gazed thoughtfully at her 
her parasol, which she was spinning like an inverted top on the 
gravel. Finally they both looked up and laughed. 

"Xow, then, for particulars," said Polly, dropping the parasol 
and wiping her eyes, flooded with tears of merriment. 

"She's the dearest girl that ever lived, Polly." 

"Yes, I know — just as you are the dearest boy. She hadn't been 
at the hotel in Cuernavaca one little half hour before she had shown 
me a much-prized stamp-picture of one Peter Yeere." 

Peter leaned weakly back in his chair. 

"Really?" 

"Really. See here, l*eter, it has just occurred to me that you 



202 



OUT WEST 



did not seem unduly surprised at meeting me in Vera Cruz." 

"I knew you were coming," he placidly rejoined. "Zitella told 

me." 

"She told you — What did she tell you?" 

"That you were coming," said Peter. "She also intimated that 

there was to be an archaeological picnic at the hacienda of Angel 

Jiminez — or rather, at his step-father's hacienda. And that re- 




A Street in Vera Cruz 

minds me : I have something from our young friend Angel that 
might interest you." 

He pulled a crumpled note from his pocket, and handed it to 
Polly ; she smoothed the sheet on her knee, and read : 

"You are verry butifle. I anticipate myself to inform you be- 
cause you are going out from here. Ymmediately on your return 
I send you this letter so that I will be acquaint with you." 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 



203 



"Why, this is deHcious!" cried Polly. "When did you get it? 
For whom was it intended?" 

"It is yours, fair maid, all yours," said Peter, generously. "It 
arrived, together with a bunch of roses and a serenade, the night 
after you had left the City of Mexico for Cuernavaca. Sorry I 
didn't save the roses, but perhaps I can repeat the serenade — " 

"Not for worlds!' Polly hastily interposed. "I should like to 
keep this note, but it may not have been intended for me — " 

"I cannot tell a lie," said Peter. "It must have been intended 
for the bell-boy. That's why it was tied to the knob of your erst- 
while chamber door. The song that was sung under your window 




At the Well, Vera Cruz 

was meant for me, although the singer distinctly stated that, until 
a certain young lady appeared on the balcony, the sun would not 
shine in that quarter of the city." 
"1 have never even seen the man!" 

"You never saw him! Never saw the child-like and lovely An- 
gel? Why, he had the room across from the professor's suite." 
"That man 1 Aunt Zenia thought he was a government spy — " 
"Why a government spy? And why that blush, Polly wog?" 
"I didn't blush," said the conscience-stricken Polly, burying an- 
other blush in her glass of lemonade. 

"Some side-lights wanted here," Peter, shaking his head, gave 



204 



our WEST 



Polly to understand. "Is there a third Romeo in the field?"' 

"Er — you are not my father confessor, Peter." 

"Just the same, I have a right to ask certain questions. If you 
didn't like old Lowell, why did you turn me down ?" 

"You are positively coarse at times, Peter." 

"If you do like the lucky beggar, why don't you give him a 
show?" Peter pursued, quite undisturbed by Polly's censure. "If 
you've been liking him all along, why did you tell me there was no 
one?" 

"I didn't know it mvself," said Pollv, in a still, small voice. 




The Water Carrier 

"Um-m-m ! That's a side-light that's been wanted for some 
time." 

"And he doesn't know our — our engagement is broken." 

"Dear little Pollywog ! You always did play according to Hoyle. 
But trust me. I'll give him a hint that'll turn the 'dark flowing 
blue' of his horizon to a cheerful rose color." 

"Peter!" shrieked Polly, heedless of the curious gaze of passers- 
by. "Not a word — not a hint! You wouldn't shame me so.'' 

"Of course not," he hastily assured her. "But never mind. 
There's a good-sized possibility that it will turn out right, after all. 
By Jove, Polly ! Things do dawn on me, sometimes ; then, again, 
they fall on me like a ton of brick." 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 



205 




A Typicai. Home of thk Poorer Class 



Polly sighed. 

"I'd like to punch his wooden head !" suddenly growled Peter. 

"I shall unlove you if you talk like that. Doesn't your con- 
science trouble you when you remember everything your cousin has 
done for you?" 

"It does give a squirm, now and then. Let's talk of — of — Zitella. 
If you can think of anything comforting to say, I wish you'd say 

it." 

"She's a connoisseur on curios,'' Polly laughed. "I was packing 
mine — you know we left the most of our baggage in the City of 
Mexico — when she came in for a chat. It was about you, Peter. 
No, I certainly shall not tell. In an hour or so she arose, and 
chanted in a high, shrill voice: 'Thou shalt not covet thy neigh- 
bor's tall brass candlesticks, nor thy neighbor's short fat candle- 



206 OUT WEST 

sticks, nor thy neighbor's blue plate, nor thy neighbor's ivory cas- 
ket, nor anything which is thy neighbor's,' After which she coolly 
took her departure with my fattest candlestick under one arm." 

Peter tilted his straw hat at a rakish angle over his left ear. 

"I may be the clammiest clam that ever wore a shell, but I really 
believe the little girl is rather fond of me. And I'll get you another 
candlestick." 

" 'She hath a merry eye,' " warned Polly. " 'Take care — she's 
fooling thee !' " 

"Do you really believe that ?" 

"1 don't know, Peter — honestly, I don't. I like the girl ,and she's 
interested in you — now. But a girl like that must have had a great 
deal of attention, at one time and another — " 

"Watch my smoke ! I'll cut 'em all out." 

"Yes, my poor Peter ! But when you are far away — Oh, I wish 
the old medal had never been heard of !" 

"Medal? What medal?" 

"Why, the medal oflfered by the Archaeological Society ^ — the one 
that the professor and your cousin are so keen about." 

"The professor may have hankerings, but old Lowell isn't on 
that tack at all." 

"Then why is he trying to find the lost city?" Polly wanted to 
know. Something in Peter's face told her that she had said too 
much. "Now I've done it !" she ruefully exclaimed. 

"Yes, and you may as well finish the job," Peter advised. "I 
assure you, though, that Lowell isn't suffering from medalitis. 
Don't you remember my telling you that he was making a study of 
monuments of Mexico and Central America, in order to compare 
them with those of Egypt?" 

"Yes, and I also remember your remarking that he was looking 
up a lost city on the map. Wasn't that city in Guatemala?" 

"Not by several hundred miles. It was Monte Alban that he 
was studying — for his book, 'The Temples of Silence,' you know. 
It's the book that was taking him to Guatemala." 

"The professor believes that Lo — Mr. Weston is pointed straight 
for the lost city, and that, if he keeps Lo — Mr. Weston in sight, he 
will in some way betray its location. The professor, you see, 
doesn't know just where it is." 

"And so that's at the bottom of your exodus, is it ?" Peter threw 
back his head and laughed hugely. "Well, Pollywog, all we've got 
to do, to block the professor's little game, is to say a word to 
Lowell and have him explain the situation to the professor. Lowell 
isn't here just now, but I'll round him up — '' 

"No, no ! Can't you understand how the professor would look 



DESERT - HUNGER 207 

at the matter? He would be sure to think your cousin was trying 
to throw him off the track. And consider my position 1 Mr. Wes. 
ton would suspect that I — that you — Anyway, we're going to 
leave Vera Cruz tomorrow night. No, I don't know how long we 
shall be at the hacienda. Yes, of course, Zitella will accompany 
us. You will come up to the hotel and see us before we leave?" 

"I — er — have a little matter of business to attend to. But, see 
here! This lost city foolishness must be stopped. You can't go 
prospecting around in the wilderness, butting into revolutions, and 
yellow fever, and Indians, and — and — Why, it's — er — indecent! 
Guatemala is on the ragged edge of a revolution now." 

"Tell Lo — Mr. Weston that on no account must he oppose the 
professor. It's the only way to manage him." 

"Why don't you tell old Lowell yourself? You needn't be afraid 
of him. He's a reformed character, is the mummy. He has taken 
to writing poetry lately — at least, I suppose it's intended for poetry. 
I ran across a verselet the other day. It began : 
'Only to see thy voice again — 
Only to hear thy smile !' " 

"I came to the park to hear the music," said Polly, with dignity, 
rising and unfurling her parasol. "Since you won't let me listen 
to it, I may as well return to the hotel." 

[To BE Continued.] 



© 



DESERT-HUNGRY 

By LUCY I. WHITE. 
H, for the sight of the white-blue hills 
And the desert stretched in the sun. 
The ringing beat of the pinto's hoof, 
The shouts and the boisterous fun! 



Since last the breath of those heaven-sweet winds 

Blew over the mesa to me. 

Never the world has seemed so wide, 

Never so wild and free. 

I could not bring the heart I brought. 
Since our youth and our faith are one ; 
But oh, for the sight of the healing hills 
And the desert stretched in the sun ! 
San Francisco. 




208 

THE RID 

By J. ALBERT MALLORY. 

OME men can assimilate a idea, an' some has to have 

it beat into them with the barrel of a six-shooter. Old 

Windy Wilkinson was one of them latter kind, an' 

that is the reason him an' me was rollin' around in 

the dust on the main street of Wilcox, tryin' to change 

the contoor of each other's countenances as the result of a little 

argument we had over the height of a horse. 

Now I haven't got much book learnin', but I sure do know 
somethin' about a horse. Besides, it ain't nice to have a little 
runt like Windy was disputin' your statements which you know 
is true. But for a little runt he sure was a stayer, an' it took 
me a considerable long time to convince him that he was wrong. 
An' I ain't right sure that I'd 'a done it then, if it hadn't been 
for a big rock which was lyin' handy in the road, an' which, used 
in a joodicious manner, seemed to make a opening in his head 
through which a mite of sense percolated. Anyhow, he hollered 
'nough, an' I got up an' dug the sand out of my eyes. An' then 
I see the Kid. 

He was standin' with his hands in his pockets an' grinnin' like 
he enjoyed the spectacle. 

"Gee, you're a scrapper !" he said. 

Then he picked up my hat an' handed it to me, lookin' at me 
so comical out of his big brown eyes that it made me laugh. 

He was about sixteen years old then, only he was small for his 
age an' looked younger than what he was. What few clothes 
he had on was all dirt an' grease. I sort of liked his looks, though. 
I see right away he wasn't no common kid. He didn't look like 
one of them smart Alecky boys what think they know it all just 
when they're gittin' big enough to put on long pants. An' I could 
see that he didn't belong to them parts. No Arizona kids in them 
days ever wore clothes like he did, nor talked like he did, either. 
Up to that time I hadn't ever heard anyone talk like him, though 
once afterwards when I went back to Noo York to blow in a 
year's wages I heard lots of that same kind of talk down on the 
Bowery. 

"Hello, kid," says I. "Where did you come from?" 

He pointed down to the railroad, where there was a long freight 
train pullin' away from the depoo. "I come in on that train," 
he says. 

"Oh," says I, kind of disgusted like, "you're one of them young 
railroad bums, eh?" 

By Jinks, you ought to of seen how mad he got when I said that. 



THE KID. 209 

"No, I ain't no bum!" he snaps out, swearin' somethin' scan- 
dalous. " 'Cause a feller ain't got no money to pay his fare an' 
beats the road out of a ride, it ain't no reason to be called a bum 
by every yahoo he meets." 

He looked so blame funny, I just roared with laughin', an' 
that made him madder an' he went on cussin' me till I could 
ketch my breath. Finally I sobered up an' said: 

"Well, if you ain't no bum, what are you?" 

"I'm a workin' man," he says. 

"What did you ever work at ?" says I. 

"No matter what," says he, "but I come out here to be a cow- 
boy an' kill Injuns. You're one, ain't you?" 

"One what? — Injun?" says I, keepin' down the laugh that was 
near killin' me. 

"No, cow-boy," he says. "You are one, ain't you? An' how 
many Injuns have you killed? An' kin 1 git a job on your 
ranch ?" 

"Well," says I, "I reckon I do know somethin' about the busi- 
ness of punchin' cows; an' as for Injuns — " Then I quit. It 
would 'a' been a mean thing to lie to that kid. "So you want to 
be a cow-puncher, eh?" 

"Yep," he says. "Kin you git me a job?" 

"I dunno, but I might try," says I. 

I didn't think I could git him a job, but I liked to hear him talk, 
an' so I took him to a restaurant an' bought him a feed. We left 
old Windy sittin' in the road, lookin' kind of dazed an' uncertain as 
to what had happened. 

When that kid see he had me on the string, the words just poured 
out of his mouth in a steady stream. He wanted to be a sure- 
enough cow-boy, there wasn't no manner of doubt about that. He 
said he used to be a newsboy in Noo York, an' that's where he 
picked up them funny notions he had about cow-boys an' Injuns. 
I reckon he read a considerable number of them books like Hank 
Smith brought out to the bunk-house one winter an' used to 
amuse the boys by readin' out of. They must 'a' been writ by a 
man what never seen a cow-puncher an' got his ideas of Injuns 
from a wooden cigar sign. Say, there was one of them books 
what said — but no matter, I guess mebby you seen some of them 
yourself. An' now I'm tellin' you about the Kid. 

That kid was a wonder all right. He'd worked on a Kansas 
farm an' made a stake of forty dollars. That was a heap of 
money to him, an' he had kep' it to buy his outfit with. Somehow 
or other he had found out that a puncher had to furnish his own 
saddle an' trappin's. But forty dollars wasn't nothin' in Arizona 
in them days, an' the Kid looked pretty sick when I told him so. 



210 OUT W EST 

But he said he'd git a job washin' dishes or somethin' an' earn 
enough more. He was game all right. Now I see he was so set 
on bein' a cow-puncher that I made up my mind he would be one. 
I knew he wouldn't find it like he thought, but there's worse things 
in this world than bein' a cow-boy an' livin' out-doors in the fresh 
air. There ain't much romance in the business, an' a whole lot of 
hard work. I've been chasin' wild red steers over these plains for 
the last eighteen year pretty regular. Once or twice I tried to git 
away from it an' go into business, havin' saved up a stake for that 
purpose. But it wasn't no use — I just had to come back to the 
ranch. I reckon I ain't fit for anythin' else. 

But that kid now, he was so dead set on bein' a cow-boy that I 
concluded to help him out. 

Down to the corral the boys was all waitin' for the Old Man to 
come back from the bank with the roll of cash what was to pay 
us for eight months' solid work. 1 took the Kid in tow an' went 
down to git my share of the wealth. An' in the meantime, while 
we was waitin' for the Old Man to show up, I trots that kid out 
an' made big medicine to the boys, which was for the purpose of 
gittin' them all to chip in an' rig up the Kid with a outfit, providin' 
of course, that we could induce the Old Man to give him a job. 

The boys agreed to my plan, an' the Old Man didn't make no 
serious objections. Though he did say he didn't have no confi- 
dence in a "gutter snipe." The Kid heard that, an' I see he didn't 
like it; but he didn't say nothin'. He was feelin' so good over 
bein' a real live cow-boy that he couldn't do nothin' but grin. 

The way we fixed that kid out was somethin' handsome. We 
don't put on much style now-a-days. The ranges is all fenced; 
there ain't no big round-ups nor long drives, like there used to be ; 
the bad men is about all killed oflf, an' it ain't necesasry to travel 
with a ars'nal strapped onto you. But in them days things was 
different. The Kid had the best outfit that money could buy. 
He was mighty proud of his goat-skin chaps, his big Mexican 
carved-leather saddle, an' his silver-mounted bit an' head-stall. 
But most of all he was proud of his six-shooters. Of course, we 
had to git him a pair of them — one wasn't enough. He couldn't 
hit a flock of barns with them, but he sure did burn up a lot of 
ammunition in the first few days. 

For the next three days there wasn't any of us had much time 
to see what happened to the Kid. We was too busy spendin' our 
money. When I woke up in the chuck-wagon about ten miles out 
on the trail, with a head as big as a barrel an' a throat as dry as a 
lime-kiln there was the Kid ridin' alongside the wagon as pert as 
you please. 



' ^'^i^VERSlTY 

run KID. 211 

He had got so he could ride pretty good, too. All the way back 
to the ranch, what time that kid wasn't shootin' at rabbits an' 
ground-owls, he was chasin' stray cattle over the hills an' tryin' 
to get his rope onto them. It didn't take me long to see that he 
would make a mighty good cow-man. By the time we got to the 
ranch-house he could throw a rope pretty decent, an' shoot a little. 

Everybody liked the Kid. He was quiet an' obligin', when he 
wasn't mad, an' he didn't pretend not to be green. He was always 
willin' to learn, an' so he missed a lot of the rough treatment that 
is generally dealt out to the tenderfoot. But from the time he hit 
the Bar-K ranch I reckon there wasn't anything that went wrong 
in the whole San Simon valley that wasn't laid to the Kid. An', 
to do him credit, he was responsible for the most of it. I never 
did see anyone that could get into as much devilment an' cause as 
much worry as that kid could, an' yet come out of it all without 
gittin' lynched. 

Every blame calf on the place was lame on account of him 
practicin' ropin' on them, an' the horses in the corral was all so 
wild for the same reason that if you wanted to get a saddle onto 
one of them you had to knock him on the head. He had the fans 
on the wind-mill so shot full of holes that it took a cyclone to pump 
water. The Old Man would get mad an' give him a good cussin' 
once in a while. But the Kid would just laugh at him with them 
big brown eyes, an' then the Old Man would say he'd fire him next 
time. But next time the same thing would happen over again. 

Finally the spring round-up come along. The Kid was made 
horse-wrangler, an' was kep' so busy he didn't have time to get 
into much trouble. Our outfit, the Three-C an' the Hash-Knife 
was all workin' together that year, 'cause them three ranges was 
close together an' there wasn't no fences. The Kid done fine in 
the round up an' the Old Man said he could have a raise in wages 
an' sent him along with us on the trail to wrangle the horses. 

When a cow-outfit is on the trail it takes quite a big bunch of 
saddle-horses along. Sometimes a man has to change horses three 
or four times a day if the country is rough an' the weather bad. 
The wrangler has charge of the horses, drives them what ain't 
bein' used in the day-time an' at night herds them away from the 
cattle in a bunch by themselves where they can feed. There has to 
be two wranglers, 'cause a man can't live without sleepin' once in 
a while; though a cow-puncher has to come pretty near it some- 
times. An' the drive that year was one of them times. 

The weather was awful uncertain. You couldn't tell what min- 
nit a squall was comin' up. The feed had been fine an' the cattle 
was in first-class condition, ready to run at the drop of your hat. 



212 OUT WEST 

Night-herdin' ain't very pleasant business at any time, but on 
that drive it was the toughest proposition I ever went up against. 
We had a hundred an' twenty mile drive from the round-up to 
Wilcox, where we was goin' to ship about two thousan' head, an' 
for ten days an' nights I never had my boots off, to say nothin' of 
bein' wet through to the skin most of the time. 

The three outfits drove together. It was easier that way an' we 
was goin' to cut out an' ship one brand at a time when we got to 
Wilcox. We was goin' to, but we didn't. An' the reason we 
didn't was mainly the Kid. 

Poor little beggar, I s'pose he was near dead for sleep like the 
rest of us. Anyway, one night at the end of the second week on 
the trail, when he took the horses out I seen by the looks of him 
that it would be a wonder if he didn't fall out of the saddle with 
sleep, an' it bein' my time to mount guard I rode out a ways with 
him an' give him some advice about keepin' away from the herd. 
You see I was afraid he might lose them horses an' I didn't want 
them to come a bustin' into the cattle an' stampede the whole 
blame outfit. Stampedes had been quite frequent on that drive, an' 
there wasn't any of us hankerin' after another. 

It was a nice night. Everythin' was quiet an' pretty as a picture. 
The cattle bedded down early. Four men on guard was all that 
was needed an' we had an easy time of it. At midnight along 
come four more to relieve us. As I was goin' to turn in an' get a 
few hours sleep I thought of the Kid out there alone with the 
saddle horses, an' him so sleepy. It got to worryin' me somehow 
an' I started out to see if things was all right with him. 

I had told the Kid to take the horses down to a bunch of big 
cottonwoods where I knew the feed was good an' that was the 
place I headed for. 

Pretty soon I come in sight of the cottonwoods. The moon was 
shinin' bright an' I could see plain; but I didn't see no horses. I 
seen just one horse an' he had a saddle on an' was tied to a tree. 
When I come nearer I see the Kid stretched out full length on the 
ground. 

I knew the Kid was just plumb played out. I see that when 
he took the horses out after supper. But the sight of him lyin' 
there so peaceful like an' the horses nowhere in sight made me mad. 

"Git out of that, you lazy dog," I says. 

He didn't move, an' then I got down an' give him a kick in 
the ribs. That didn't faze him either, an' then I see that somethin' 
was wrong. I turned him over so I could see his face. It was 
covered with blood from a small cut on the top of his head. 

I got some water out of a hole close by an' soon had the Kid 
sittin' up an' askin' what was the matter. 



THE KID. 213 

"What's the matter!" says I. "It's me wants to know what's 
the matter. Where's them horses?" 

With that he jumps up and commences to swear like a mule- 
skinner. 

Pretty soon I got it out of him that he was so tired when he 
brought the horses out that he couldn't keep awake, an' twice he 
had nearly fell out of the saddle. Then, when the bunch had eat 
their fill an' was nice an' quiet, he tied his own horse to a tree 
an' lay down to get a rest. By an' by he wake up, just in time 
to see two men ride up an' ketch two horses an' put their saddles 
onto them. Then I reckon he must have hollered at them or some- 
thin', cause they rode up to him an' one of them busted him over 
the head with the butt end of a quirt, an' he didn't know nothin' 
more. 

Well, it didn't take me long to figure out what that meant. Them 
fellers had been doin' dirt of some kind an' there was a posse 
after them. They needed fresh horses an' helped themselves. 

The Kid an' me struck for camp as fast as we could travel. You 
bet the boss was mad when we told him what had happened. Here 
was the whole outfit left afoot you might say. There was only 
six horses for about thirty men, an' a cow-puncher afoot ain't of no 
more use than he would be in a rockin' chair. Then, to top the 
whole business, down comes that fool posse an' butted right into 
the herd an' stampeded the bunch. An' all we could do was to stand 
an' watch them run by. 

But it was a lucky thing for the Kid that the posse come just 
when it did, 'cause the boss let up on cussin' him an' lit into the 
sheriff. 

The sheriff told us that them two fellers what had run off our 
horses was members of Black Jack's gang an' had held up the train 
an' killed the express messenger near San Simon Summit. 

The posse stayed in camp just long enough to git a good cussin' 
from the boss an' deputize me, 'cause I was a old Injun fighter an' 
knew somethin' about follerin' a trail. I was mad all right, but I 
had to go. 

I know Southern Arizona like a book, an' I figured it out that 
the train robbers was headin' for a certain place on the Mexican 
border. So I led that posse over a short-cut, calculatin' to head 
them off. 

About daylight we made camp in a little canon, an' all turned in 
to git a good sleep. We was all dead tired an' we didn't post no 
guard. That sheriff was pretty much of a fool, anyhow. 

About noon the sun blazin' down into the cafion woke me up, 
an' the first thing I seen was the Kid. Well, by Jinks, I was 
su'prised. 

"What you doin' here?" I says. 

He said that the boys in camp had caught the remuda (that's 
the name of the bunch of horses what belongs to a cow outfit) an' 
that the boss was awful mad about the cattle runnin' off, an' laid 
the whole thing to him. He sneaked away an' come after them 
two horses what had been stole. He said the Old Man had called 
him a "gfutter snipe" the first day he come to Wilcox, an' now, if 



214 OUT WEST 

he didn't git them two horses what he was responsible for, he 
wouldn't never go back to the ranch. 

I didn't think the Kid would remember about the Old Man callin' 
him a gutter snipe, but it showed what kind of stuff he was made 
of. I didn't think he could git to gcJ along with the posse, but when 
the sheriff woke up the Kid just used his eyes a little an' got 
deputized. 

We done some mighty hard ridin' for the next three days. The 
second day we got some fresh horses an' some grub at the Lone 
Star ranch, but mostly we didn't have nothin' to eat an' very little 
water to wash it down with. I reckon that we never would of 
camped, if it wasn't that the horses had to rest once in a while. 

On the afternoon of the fourth day we struck the trail we was 
after, just where 1 reckoned we would. It wasn't but a few miles 
to the Mexico line, which if them robbers got on the other side of 
they was safe. I see in a minnit that we was close onto our men, 
an' that their horses was about played out. We went pretty slow 
an' easy an' made a big detoor around so as to git between our 
game an' Mexico. 

A little after sundown we camped in a big arroyo. We planned 
the trap we would set for them robbers in the mornin', an' then we 
all rolled up in our blankets an' went to sleep, after hobblin' the 
horses. Now when I git to thinkin' about it, I wonder why we 
didn't build a fire so as everybody in the neighborhood would know 
where we was. I see what a crazy thing we was doin' by not 
havin' anyone on guard an' I told the Sheriff so. But he was one 
of them fellers what knows it all, an' mostly you'll find that them 
kind don't know nothin'. 

It was the Kid that woke me up by shootin'. He had more sense 
than any of us. He didn't only hobble his horse ; he had a forty 
foot lariat tied to him, with one end fast to his saddle under his 
head. An' so when them robbers sneaked up on us an' started to 
run off our horses, the Kid woke up, see what was the matter an' 
begun shootin'. 

We was all on our feet in a minnit an' runnin' to our horses. But 
it wasn't pleasant business chasin' around out there in the moon- 
light after them crazy horses while them two robbers kep' pumpin' 
lead into us out of the shade. 

Pretty soon we got saddled up. But the Kid was ahead of us all, 
an' away he goes yellin' like a Injun. When we got out on the 
open plain, we had a runnin' fight all the way to Mexico. One of 
our men was shot in the shoulder, but I couldn't see as we done any 
damage to the robbers. 

Them robbers got across the border all right, an' we set there 
in the United States like the bunch of silly yahoos we was an' 
watched them disappear into the chaparral on the Mexico side. 

We was all mad an' clean disgusted, but mostly the sheriff. If 
anybody ever bungled anythin' an' made a blame fool of himself 
that sheriff was the man. An' he knew it, too. He had been 
figurin' on gittin' elected again, but he sees that his goose was 
cooked right there. We didn't any of us say a word. We made 
camp at a spring close by an' prepared to rest a day before goin' 
back. 



THB KID. 215 

But the Kid, you couldn't never tell about him. The first thing 
we knew he had slipped across the border an' was into the brush 
on the other side, right on the trail of them robbers. We yelled 
at him to come back, but he didn't pay no attention to us. I was 
sorry to see him go an' a couple of us wanted to start after him, 
but the sheriff wouldn't let us an' growled somethin' about "inter- 
national complications." 

I looked for the Kid back pretty soon if he wasn't killed by them 
robbers or didn't run into some Mexican line-riders, which was 
probable. He didn't git back, though, by the time we was ready 
to start for home. I wanted the sheriff to let some of us wait an- 
other day, but he wouldn't do it an' said, "To hell with the Kidl" 
He was feelin' pretty sore, was the sheriff. 

We took it easy on the way back, 'cause of the condition our 
horses was in. The second night in camp, with everybody sleepin' 
like dead men, we was woke up by somebody yellin', an' when we 
turned out, there was the Kid ridin' into camp with them two rob- 
bers. One of them was tied onto his saddle like a sack of meal, an' 
he looked pretty sick. An' good reason he had, too, with a bullet 
some place in his thigh. The other was all right, only he looked 
plumb tuckered out. But the Kid, he was just wore to a frazzel. 
He had a big bandage around his head, an' he looked awful out 
of his eyes. 

We stood there like a bunch of lunkheads, lookin' an' lookin'. 
Then the Kid begun to swear, soft an' easy. I've heard a few peo- 
ple cuss a little in my time, but I never heard anythin' before or 
since that come up with the cussin' the Kid give us there in the 
moonlight, an' him so weak he couldn't hardly stay in the saddle. 
By an' by his voice petered out to a whisper an' he rolled out of 
the saddle onto his head an' lay still. That brought us back to life 
an' we got busy. 

1 never did find out just how the Kid done it. He come onto 
them robbers in camp, an' turned loose with his shootin' iron. So 
did they, an' the Kid got a piece shot out of one ear. He put one 
of them out of commission, an' the other surrendered. He took 
them by surprise, an' they thought the whole posse was back of 
him. 

But the toughest part for the Kid was to bring them back. He 
made the one that wasn't hurt load the other onto a horse. That 
part of it was easy. But think of that kid ridin' them two days 
an' nights all the way back an' never darin' to stop to rest or sleep ! 
Well, I knew he was a wonder the first time I see him. 

He was a pretty sick kid for a couple of weeks afterwards. We 
took him back to the ranch-house an' put him to bed. 

I had to go back up the valley an' help round up them cattle what 
was scattered all over the San Simon. Before I left the Kid woke 
up an' see the Old Man standin' beside him. He smiled with his 
big brown eyes an' says: 

"Well, boss, I brought back them horses what was intrusted to 
me." An' then he added: "If you ever call me a gutter snipe 
again I'll kill you. I'm a cow-boy, that's what I am." 

Lemon Grove, Cal. 




216 

• OLIVE A. OATMAN— HER CAPTIVITY WITH 
THE APACHE INDIANS, AND HER 
LATER LIFE 

By SHARLOT M. HALL. 
TORIES of the captivity of white women with various 
Indian tribes have been part of the romance and trag- 
edy of the frontier from New England westward ; but 
the Apaches of the Southwest seldom burdened them- 
selves for any length of time with white captives of 
either sex, and Olive A. Oatman is the only white woman who sur- 
vived the hardships of an extended captivity among them. That 
she did so survive was due in part to the fact that she was a strong 
young girl accustomed to outdoor life; and also to the fact that 
she was taken in the early years of their contact with white people 
and before treachery and wanton offense on both sides had aroused 
the spirit of relentless extermination which later marked their atti- 
tude toward all white persons who fell into their hands. 

In 1850, the "Great American Desert" still swept almost unbroken 
to the western ocean — a vast, unexplored region of which little 
was known except that it was the grim barrier that stood between 
the East and the new-found gold of California. Thirst and hunger 
were in it, and interminable days of weary travel, and Death was 
the toll-master on every road. But there was never a price men 
would not pay for gold, and while the reports from that distant 
treasure-land were still vague and uncertain, long lines of white- 
topped wagons were heading into the wilderness. 

Experience soon divided the westward movement into two great 
streams, one bending northward along the north fork of the Platte 
river into Utah and Nevada, and down over the Sierra Nevada 
mountains into the Sacramento valley. The other turned to the 
south along the old Santa Fe trail, thence following the wagon-road 
made by Lieutenant-Colonel Cooke and his Mormon batallion in 
1846 to the old Spanish town of Tucson. 

From Tucson to Los Angeles the road traversed as grim a 
stretch of desert as was ever bridges by human hope and endur- 
ance ; but being much nearer for parties from the lower Mississippi 
and Gulf States, and for the most part free of snow in winter, this 
southern road was travelled by thousands. It cut through the very 
heart of the Indian country; but in the beginning nearly all the 
tribes were friendly, and the Apaches, so soon to leave their trail 
of blood across a quarter of a century, had shown a disposition to 
welcome the Americans. 

On August 9th, 1850, a party of about fifty emigrants left the 
town of Independence, Missouri, bound westward by the southern 



LIFE OF OLIVE A. OATMAN. 217 

route. Among them were Royse Oatman, his wife, and seven 
children. He was a native of western New York, but had come by 
slow stages through Pennsylvania and Illinois. As early as 1849 
men returning from the war with Mexico brought to his Illinois 
home the most glowing accounts of the valley lying at the junction 
of the Gila and Colorado rivers, and tried to organize a party for 
colonization there. 

Mr. Oatman had been in failing health from an accidental injury 
received some while before and this, with business reverses, led him 
to consider seeking a home in a milder climate. He had relatives 
in California, and it was his purpose to go on there if the Colorado 
river valley did not impress him favorably. 

Many of the families in the train were bound for California, but 
several who had come with Mr. Oatman from Illinois were intend- 
ing to remain on the Colorado river if it proved a desirable locality, 
and this was the first American train to set out with the purpose of 
settling in what is now Arizona. 

All of the party were fairly well supplied with wagons, cattle, 
and household goods, and carried, as did every west-bound outfit in 
those days, what was believed to be sufficient food for some months, 
and a stock of articles suitable for barter with the Indians from 
whom further food-stuflfs might be obtained. 

While summer lasted, the travel day by day was pleasant, but at 
the approach of winter dissensions arose as to the plans and leader- 
ship, and in the Santa Fe pass the party divided. The larger 
number chose to follow a more northern route, leaving the Oatman 
family and their neighbors to go south toward Tucson. This divi- 
sion, which followed the loss of a considerable number of horses 
and mules by theft of the Indians, and other mishaps, left the 
smaller party short of animals ; and these were soon further re- 
duced by other Indian depredations, and by the poor and scant 
growth of grass along the way, which offered uncertain and insuffi- 
cient grazing. 

The slow travel made necessary by the weakened animals also 
reduced the store of food, and it was found difficult to buy more at 
the few Mexican villages, where, as for the Indians, a season of 
unusual drouth had spoiled the crops. The idea of settling on the 
Colorado river was abandoned, and the party of eight wagons and 
twenty pfersons pushed on with what speed they might toward Cali- 
fornia by way of Tucson and Fort Yuma. 

While encamped to rest the teams and increase the food-supply 
by hunting twenty head of stock were driven off by the Apache 
Indians, and it became necessary to abandon part of the wagons 
and goods — a frequent happening on the emigrant trails then and 
later. 



218 OUT WEST 

Short of food for themselves, and with their cattle weary and 
foot-sore, the Oatman party entered what is now Arizona in Janu- 
ary, 1851, proceeding by short stages. The horses had all been lost 
or stolen, the surplus cattle had been killed for food, and cows were 
yoked to many of the wagons in place of the lost oxen. 

At Tubac they were warmly welcomed by the handful of Mexican 
inhabitants, who craved the protection of the Americans against 
the Apaches, by whom the little town was constantly harried. They 
were given such food as could be spared, offered lands for farming, 
and urged to stay a year at least. This they felt was impossible, 
as their own number was too small to afford safety to themselves 
or their hosts. 

At Tucson, also, they were begged to stay and take up farms ; but 
at both places the drouth had cut short provisions, and the Apache 
raids rendered any business unprofitable and nearly impossible. It 
would clearly cost the Americans all they possessed merely to live 
until another crop season came round ; a few could afford to remain, 
but Mr. Oatman, with two of his neighbors moved on to the Pima 
Indian villages at Maricopa Wells, with the hope of trading what 
household goods they could still spare for corn, wheat, and mesquite 
beans, with which these peaceful Indians often supplied passing 
emigrant trains. 

The drouth, however, had reached the Pimas as well, and instead 
of having grain to spare they were themselves close to famine. 
Their young men returning from other points confirmed the reports 
of Apache raids all along the Gila river and strongly urged the 
entire party of Americans to return to Tucson at once and remain 
till the journey was safer. 

Two families decided to do this, but Mr. Oatman felt that his 
means were becoming too slender to permit delay if he would 
reach his relatives in California. When Dr. John LeConte, a 
scientist and traveller who had spent some time on the Pacific 
Coast, passed through Maricopa Wells on his way from Yuma to 
Tucson and said that he had seen no Indians, Mr. Oatman decided 
that it was as safe to proceed as to remain where they were. 

It was a sad parting there in the desert, when the Oatmans drew 
off and their white-topped wagons moved slowly into the gray, 
desolate waste of sand and grease-wood that lay between>them and 
the Colorado river. More than one had premonition that it was an 
eternal farewell, and Mrs. Oatman was especially sad and reluctant 
to enter the wilderness alone with her littlel brood. 

They still had two wagons, and though so much of their house- 
hold goods had been sold or traded, the loads were too heavy for 
the poor cows who now supplied the places of oxen in the yokes. 



LIFE OF OLIVE A. OATMAN. 219 

Their progress was so slow that on the seventh day they were 
overtaken by Dr. LeConte and his guide returning from Tucson to 
Yuma. They were then about ninety miles distant from that place, 
and it was apparent to the experienced traveller as well as to Mr. 
Oatman that without assistance they would never reach the fort. • 

Dr. LeConte had only his saddle horse and a Mexican guide and 
could render no immediate assistance, but he hurried on as rapidly 
as possible, bearing a letter from Mr. Oatman to Major Heintzel- 
man, the "commander of the United States troops at For Yuma, and 
promised to do all in his own power to hurry the aid so sorely 
needed. 

The following night the Apaches robbed LeConte of his horses 
and only a narrow chance saved his life. He was a man of too 
much experience to underestimate the danger, and the one hope for 
his own life and that of the party behind lay in reaching Yuma at 
the earliest possible moment. On the stump of a tree beside the 
road he posted a card warning the Oatmans and then hurried for- 
ward on foot. 

It was never surely known, but his surviving children believed 
that Mr. Oatman found this warning and destroyed it, to spare his 
family added anxiety. Their dark fate seemed closing in rapidly; 
they missed their way, and after dragging through the deep sand 
till the cattle could go no farther, they were forced to make camp 
for the night on a low island in the Gila river. 

As the night came on a sand-storm swept over them, rolling the 
river up in great wind-lashed waves, drenching their clothes, bed- 
ding and provision. The driving sand stung their faces and beat 
on the weary cattle till they bellowed with fear. It seemed they 
would overturn the wagons in their terror, and Mr. Oatman and 
Lorenzo, the fourteen-year-old son, sat up all night trying to quiet 
the poor, faithful creatures that had brought them so far. 

It was terrible above all that had yet befallen them. The babe in 
Mrs. Oatman's arms wailed pitifully, and the other children crept 
with their mother into one of the wagons, where they huddled 
together, shivering with cold and silent with fear. Before the long 
night was over, Mr. Oatman's courage broke down, and, leaning 
against one of his trembling oxen, he gave way to tears. 

The storm spent itself before sunrise, and with all possible haste 
the family resumed their journey. The road was particularly diffi- 
cult, and at a point where the trail led up a steep bluff to a small 
rocky plain they were compelled to unload the wagons and proceed 
by hitching all the cattle to one wagon and so take them up one at 
a time. They carried up much of the goods on their backs, and it 
was after noon before they were ready to go on. 



220 OUT WEST 

All the while Mrs. Oatman and the children had watched the hills 
in all directions with keen anxiety. At last she gave a sigh of 
relief and said: "Thank God, we are so far on the road safely! 
There seems to be no danger — no one is in sight." Even as she 
spoke Olive, the second daughter, called to her father that the 
Indians were coming, pointing down the road behind, where several 
moving black objects were to be seen. 

Mr. Oatman assured his family that the objects were not In- 
dians, and that, if they were, there was nothing to fear. Yet it was 
apparent to them all that he was very much alarmed and retained 
his self-control with the utmost difficulty. He made no effort to 
resist the Indians, or to prevent their entering the camp when they 
approached, and at no time attempted to defend himself or his 
family. 

The Indians, about fifteen in number, were armed only with 
clubs, rude knives, and a few bows and arrows. They were surly 
and insolent from the first, and demanded food and tobacco. Mr. 
Oatman was afraid to refuse, although he explained to them that 
his own family were in need of all the food they had, and that he 
had sent a messenger to ask help from Fort Yuma. 

The Indians withdrew a short distance and entered into a discus- 
sion. Mr. Oatman continued loading the wagons and yoking the 
cattle for the afternoon's journey. All members of the family ex- 
cept the youngest rendered what assistance they could, and the 
party were scattered around the two wagons when the Indians 
started toward them yelling and brandishing their clubs. 

Mr. Oatman was felled at once. Mrs. Oatman was clubbed and 
the babe in her arms was killed with a lance thrust. The largest 
boy, Lorenzo, was hastily clubbed and thrown over a ledge of rock 
at the edge of the little mesa. The seventeen-year-old daughter, 
Lucy, fell beside the wagon where she was trying to protect the 
smaller children, and it will never be known what whim of a moment 
led the Indians to take two of the younger girls, Olive Ann and 
Mary Ann, prisoners instead of killing them there with the rest 
of the party. 

Probably the fear that help might arrive from Yuma led to the 
haste with which the Indians rifled the wagons of the food and such 
light articles as took their fancy and hurried away, driving the 
cattle and the two girls before them. This haste saved the life of 
Lorenzo Oatman, and led to the recovery of Olive five years later. 

The Indians travelled rapidly till late at night, and started on 
again at daybreak. They purposely chose the driest and most diffi- 
cult route to discourage pursuers and to avoid meeting other war- 
parties. One such war-party they did meet, and the girls barely 



LIFE OF OLIVE A. OATMAN. 221 

escaped death from the angry leader who wrangled with their 
captors as to the folly and danger of holding white prisoners. 

The second night, being in safer country, the Indians killed one 
of the cattle and feasted on its flesh, toasting it in strips before the 
fire and baking great chunks wrapped in the hide. The next day 
they reached the home rancheria, and the poor captives, tired and 
footsore from the long march and stunned by the awful fate of 
their parents and their own probable future, were turned over to 
the women and children to experience a cruelty before which the 
previous days of travel were nothing. 

After her release Olive could never speak of this night and the 
days that followed, when she and her sister begged the Indians in 
vain to kill them and be done with it. The first year was one of 
extreme misery ; the girls planned often for escape and even tried 
to save such food as they could from their scant supply for flight 
when the chance should offer ; but all thought of such an attempt was 
abandoned as Mary grew weaker. 

Very slowly the white girls passed from toys of savage cruelty 
to drudges for the entire rancheria, beaten, as Olive says in the story 
written after her release, if they were seen to stand idle a moment. 
Thy brought wood, tended the fires, gathered grass-seeds in the 
conical baskets of woven bear-grass, and toiled with the squaws in 
the big mescal-bakings. 

Their food was for the most part gathered in the hills, the nomad 
tribe wandering wherever cactus fruits, grass-seeds, or edible roots 
might be found. There were times of plenty, with game and mes- 
quite beans, and horses and mules brought in from plundered 
wagon-trains and eaten — as like as not raw and without salt. 
Worms, grasshoppers, crickets, lizards, insects and small rodents 
were sought and eaten in time of scarcity; but the favorite food 
was meat boiled to a mush in a clay "tusquin" or pot and thickened 
with any available seeds. 

The desolate desert foot-hills in which the band roamed fur- 
nished scant and uncertain food ; the Indians were themselves more 
often than not near to starving and their captives had barely enough 
to keep them alive. From time to time other Indians, the Mojaves 
from the Colorado river, came into the camp to trade and the girls 
heard rumors that they were to be sold. They talked together 
with pathetic hopefulness that some such chance might send them 
into kinder hands where food was more plentiful. 

After something more than a year with their captors, they were 
traded to the Mojaves, and with their new owners made the journey 
on foot to the Mojave village on the Colorado river above Bill 
Williams' Fort. Here they found the Indians living in huts that 



222 OUT WEST 

were comfortable in comparison to the brush shelters of their 
former owners; a good stream of water flowed through the little 
valley, and along its banks small fields were cultivated. 

The white girls entered the village with something of hope, 
which was in a sense justified; for their new owners raised small 
quantities of gra^in and melons, and mesquite trees were fairly 
abundant in the valley and their beans formed the main food-supply 
of the tribe. Though still the common slaves and drudges of the 
tribe, the girls received less physical abuse than when with the 
Apaches, and found two real friends in the wife and daughter of 
the chief. They were given a very small piece of ground, and 
wheat, corn, and melon-seeds with which to plant it for their own 
use. 

The Mojaves, like the mountain tribes, were improvident. They 
feasted and fattened in times of rain and consequent plenty, and 
starved miserably in years of drouth. There was little game in 
their country, and their chief food was a mush made of mesquite 
beans ground to a coarse meal and boiled in water. The grinding 
of this meal was a constant task of the captives; they were sent 
daily to gather grass-seeds and edible roots, and whatever fruits 
or berries might be found ; but their food was doled out in the most 
scanty portions, and they were always hungry. 

Several times during the first year they were accused of intend- 
ing to escape, and one day two medicine-men came to the chief's 
house and tattooed the captives with a mark, or "ki-e-chook," by 
which they might be recognized in such case. It was not the mark 
worn by the Mojave women, though similar. It was made by 
pricking the skin along the chin and out from the mouth with a 
very sharp stick till it bled freely. The stick was then dipped into 
the juice of a weed that grew on the banks of the river and then in 
the powder of a blue stone that was to be found at low water in 
some parts of the stream-bed, and which was burned and pulver- 
ized, thereby turning nearly black. This fine powder was pricked 
into the wounds and left an indelible mark, blue-black in color and 
very disfiguring, which Olive bore to the day of her death. The 
process of marking was quite painful, and the girls saw it repeated 
upon other captives later. 

Their first year among the Mojaves was in some ways the easiest 
of their captivity, and Olive pathetically records how the scant 
patches of grain reminded them of their Illinois home and the 
fields their father had planted. 

The second year the drouth returned, and the poor children, 
starving themselves, were forced to travel for miles through the 
foot-hills bearing .the "chiechuck," the rude burden-basket, and 



LIFE OF OLIVB A. ATM AN. 223 

gathering grass-seeds and beans of the palo verde, mesquite, and 
iron-wood for their hungry masters. 

Many of the Indians died and Mary Ann became too weak to 
follow Olive in search of food. The elder sister wandered for 
days through the hills, hunting birds' eggs and roots to sustain 
the dying child. She has told how the Indians gathered to listen 
as Mary in her last hours tried to sing the songs they had been 
taught at home. 

This sad music touched the heart of a Mojave woman, the wife 
of the chief, who had already shown some kindness to the captives. 
The Mojaves burn their dead in rude pyres of dry wood, but Olive 
longed to bury her sister. At the request of his wife the chief 
permitted a grave to be made in the tiny plot of ground which the 
white girls had cultivated, and gave Olive a blanket in which to 
wrap her sister's body. 

After the burial the same woman brought food to Olive, grinding 
part of her own scant hoard of seed-corn to make a soup for the 
starving, grief-stricken girl. This she did with the utmost stealth, 
for her own relatives were starving and dying. 

In a short time Olive grew strong enough to gather seeds in the 
hills, and so managed to live till spring. Her chief food was the 
small bulb of a sort of wild hyacinth, still gathered and eaten by 
the Indians, and some of these dried bulbs she kept long after her 
release. 

The third year the Colorado river overflowed abundantly, irri- 
gating the fields of corn and melons and causing the mesquite trees 
to bear an extra crop of beans. Much food was harvested, and in 
the late fall the Mojaves planned a big feast in a little valley to the 
north, where they were joined by other bands from all along the 
river. 

Olive was ordered to help the squaws carry the camp belongings 
to the feasting-place, and assist them in cooking fhe piles of food 
which would be eaten during the three days of sport. She went 
with great reluctance; these feasts were times of the most un- 
restrained indulgence and were dreaded by the squaws as well as 
the captives. An intoxicating drink was made by fermenting com 
and mesquite-bean meal in water with various roots, and rude 
dances and much gambling filled the intervals of eating and drink- 
ing. 

Almost immediately after coming to the Mojaves the captive 
girls saw sig^s of contact with the white people. Some of the 
women wore scraps of calico and red flannel, the latter being espe- 
cially prized, and beads and cotton handkerchiefs were now and 
then brought in by the men. Olive tried to learn where these 



224 CUT WEST 

things came from, but was warned that if she asked questions she 
would be killed. 

Captives were sometimes brought in by war-parties, and from a 
Mexican woman Olive learned that there were a small number of 
white people far down the river. If she had any thought of 
escape it was given up when she witnessed the burning of a Coco- 
pah woman, a captive who tried to get away and was retaken. She 
was warned often that this would be her own fate if she tried to 
run away. 

The Mojaves were joined in the big feast by representatives of 
the various river tribes, including some Yumas from near Fort 
Yuma. In the gambling one of the Yumas won some horses from 
a member of the band to which Olive was captive, and came over 
to the encampment to get his property. There was more or less 
wrangling about the payment, and he was offered Olive and the 
Mexican woman in place of the horses. He refused to take them 
and rode away with the horses, but this seemingly trifling incident 
put in motion a chain of events leading back to that blood-stained 
mesa above the Gila river and destined at last to restore both cap- 
tives to their friends. 

When Lorenzo Oatman recovered from the stunning blow which 
left him unconscious for hours at the foot of the cliff where the 
Apaches flung him in their haste, he crawled painfully back to the 
little flat to find the dead and mutilated bodies of his parents and 
of all his brothers and sisters except Olive and Mary Ann, whom 
he dimly remembered struggling in the grasp of two Indians. 

Though terribly wounded, Lorenzo crawled around the wagons 
till he found some scraps of bread and a little brown sugar, which 
he ate. He then started to walk and crawl as best he might back 
to Maricopa Wells. He was in a delirium of pain from his wounds 
and fear of prowling Indians, and when he stopped to rest the 
coyotes came so hear that he was afraid to sleep, but kept waving 
one hand to keep them off. 

He had gotten into the desert near Gila Bend when he saw In- 
dians coming toward him. He tried to hide in the grease-wood, but 
they saw him, and, coming up, recognized him as one of the party 
from Maricopa Wells. They were friendly Maricopas; they gave 
the boy food and water and rode on to the little mesa to verify his 
story. Returning, they took him back to Maricopa Wells, where 
he found the Wilders and Kelleys with their oxen yoked ready to 
continue the journey to Yuma. 

Three days later, lying on a bed in one of the wagons, Lorenzo 
Oatman started back over that desolate road. At the little mesa, 
since known as Oatman's Flat, the emigrants stopped to bury the 



LIFU OF OLIVE A. O ATM AN. 225 

torn bodies of their former friends in one shallow grave. A year 
later the Bartlett expedition passed the spot and reburied the scat- 
tered bones of the unfortunate family. The mesa was still strewn 
with such of their goods as the Indians had not chosen to take 
away; the wagons had been partly burned and trunks and chests 
broken open and their contents Uttered about. 

At Fort Yuma Lorenzo was kindly received and remained in 
the hospital for two months. He begged help from the commander, 
Major Heintzelman, to trace and retake his sisters ; but the force 
of troops available was small and the massacre had taken place on 
Mexican soil, so the commander held that he had no authority to 
punish the offenders. He sent out a small number of men under 
Captain Davis, but they did little more than heap a higher mound 
of stones over the bodies of the emigrants. 

In the physician at Fort Yuma, Dr. Hewit, and in Henry Grin- 
nell, the post carpenter, Lorenzo Oatman found two unfailing 
friends. Dr. Hewit cared for the wounded boy, and with Grinnell 
gave him money and urged him to go on to his father's relatives in 
California. Henry Grinnell was a nephew of that Grinnell who 
sent rescue-parties in search of Sir John Franklin ; the pathetic 
fate of the captive girls aroused his keenest sympathy, and he as- 
sured Lorenzo that he would never abandon the search for them 
till they were found. 

In California, Lorenzo tried repeatedly to get help to send out a 
searching party; but, though his story was heard with the utmost 
sympathy, no one believed that the girls had been kept alive; or 
that, if they had, they could have survived months of captivity. 
Yet at Yuma Grinnell had quietly taken up a search almost as hope- 
less as that for brave Sir John, in a land almost as baffling as the 
ice floes of the North. 

With one purpose always in view, he made friends with as many 
Indians as possible and encouraged them to come freely to his 
cabin in the outskirts of Fort Yuma. He attached to himself one 
warm friend and invaluable assistant, a Yuma Indian named An- 
tonio Francisco. It was through Antonio that he first got trace of 
the captives. The Yuma who returned from the big feast up the 
river, boasted of his winnings and told of the women that had been 
offered to him in place of the horses. 

In a flash Grinnell seized upon this incident, and through An- 
tonio followed it up till he knew what band held the captives and 
where they were living. He knew that the rescue must proceed 
with the utmost caution, for one false move might send the women 
to some distant tribe or to a violent death. 

It was decided that gambling was the safest cover, and Antonio 



226 OUT WEST 

offered to win the women if the necessary goods were furnished 
him. 

Mr. Grinnell bought two horses, and the post commander, Colonel 
Martin Burke, gave beads, trinkets and blankets. He had little 
faith in Antonio Francisco or any other Indian and felt none of 
Mr. Grinnell's hopefulness, though he gave Antonio a letter to 
Olive, if he should find her, and authorized him to demand her 
release in the name of the United States, 

At parting Antonio asked two months' time in which to bring in 
the captives. As the weeks slipped by, and no word came from 
him, Mr. Grinnell was both blamed and laughed at for trusting an 
Indian. Late one evening, near the end of the time set, a Yuma 
boy brought word that Antonio was within six miles of the post, 
but the women were tired and could not walk farther, and he 
wished also some clothes for them, as they were dressed only in 
skirts of Cottonwood bark. 

Horses and clothing were sent in haste, and the whole post 
waited the arrival of the party with excitement. There was great 
disappointment when Antonio rode in with two squaws whose dark 
faces were heavily tattooed. In Olive's case the doubt was quickly 
settled by her blue eyes and brown hair, which, though rough and 
sun-burned and worn in Indian fashion, was still that of a white 
woman. 

The poor captives were taken to the homes of kind people at the 
post, and the Mexican woman was later sent to her people. Olive 
did not recognize anyone till her brother came from California, 
when she took a pathetic interest in talking with him of their child- 
hood and of the tragedy which left them alone in the world. 

Of her release, she told that the Yuma came into the camp of 
her owners and gambled and made friends with them. They 
thought for a while that he had killed some white men and gotten 
the beads and blankets. He gave Olive Colonel Burke's letter 
and she had much trouble to read it after five years in which she 
had not seen a written word. 

Antonio urged the Mojaves to give up the captives, and at last 
got them to hold a council to decide. He made an eloquent plea 
for their release and threatened the Mojaves with severe punish- 
ment at the hands of the troops at Fort Yuma if they refused. 
From a distance Olive listened to the discussion, scarcely daring 
to hope for release. When ordered to go with the Yuma she dared 
not show any gladness for fear her owners would change their 
minds merely to see her disappointment. 

She felt really grieved at parting with the kind wife of the chief 
and at leaving the grave of her sister. Before letting her go the Mo- 
javes took from her all the bits of red flannel and calico she had 
and the strings of beads which had been given her for singing to 
them. She brought away only a few of the wild hyacinth roots, 
which she concealed in her bark skirt and kept for years after. 

For many years it was not known what Indians killed the Oatman 
family and captured Olive and Mary. The Tonto Apaches, an off- 
shoot of the Apache tribe nicknamed "Tontos," or fools, were sus- 
pected, and long after one of the men who participated told the 
whole story to Al Sieber, General Crook's chief of scouts. 



LIFB OF OLIVE A. OATMAN. 227 

The long captivity and slavery of Olive Oatman ended in March, 
1856. With her brother she went to California and on to her 
relatives in Oregon. Returning to California, the brother and 
sister spent six months in school in the Santa Clara valley. A 
clergyman, the Rev. R. B, Stratton, became interested in them and 
published the story of their lives and of Olive's captivity and 
rescue. The book had a large sale, above thirty thousand copies, 
and the money from it was used for the further education of the 
two orphans. 

In March, 1858, Olive went by steamer to New York with Mr. 
Stratton and his family. Her father had relatives near Rochester, 
with whom she lived. She attended school in Albany for some 
time and later lectured on the habits and customs of the Indians 
and her captivity. While lecturing she met John B. Fairchild, and 
they were married in Rochester in November, 1865. 

She removed with her husband to Michigan, where they lived 
for seven years and from there went to the town of Sherman, 
Texas, where she died in March, 1903. The later life of Olive Oat- 
man was as quiet and peaceful as her girlhood was tragic. In her 
beautiful home, guarded by her devoted husband, she gave herself 
up to many noble charities, especially the care of orphan children. 
One of these, an adopted daughter, nursed her tenderly in her last 
illness of a year. 

Olive Oatman carried to the end the girlish look of the rude 
little engraving published in the story of her life as written by 
Mr. Stratton. She was quiet and reserved; the great suffering of 
her early life set her apart from the world, but she was a noble, 
helpful woman, always first to aid the sick and poor, and espe- 
cially children in need. She was a woman of much intelligence 
and strength of character, and even as a girl must have been able 
to meet diflficulties with rare courage. 

Born in 1837 she was fourteen at the time her family met their 
sad fate, and she was herself taken into slavery such as few h'ave 
survived. She was a woman of twenty when she returned to civil- 
ization and took up her education from books and schools. The 
sadness of her early experiences never quite lifted, as the blue-black 
tattooed mark of the Mojave captive never left her face, but to the 
end her long life was useful and unselfish, and she is kept in loving 
memory in the town which was her home for more than thirty 
years. 

Some years ago it was rumored that she had died in an insane 
asylum in New York, and Bancroft records, without endorsing, the 
story. 

She was never insane, nor did she live in New York after 1865. 
Hundreds of people yet live who knew her during her long resi- 
dence in Texas, and can bear witness to her clearness of mind and 
nobility of character. 

Dewey, Arizona. 




228 

THE MYSTERY OF MIRANDA 

By GERTRUDE DIX. 
ISS EDDYSTONE knocked briskly but reverentially 
at the study door of her friend, Miss Forsitt, and then 
went in, shutting it carefully behind her. 

"We have a new arrival, Virginia," she announced, 

with something of that air of mystery and importance 

with which the monthly nurse makes known the advent of a little 

stranger. Miss Forsitt carefully finished the sentence she was 

writing, to the last period, before she looked up. 

"Do you mean that you have found some one to share the apart- 
ment?" she asked in her severely accurate manner. "Not musical, 
I hope?" 

"No, not musical. Literary," returned Miss Eddystone in tri- 
umph. "After my lecture at the club last week. Miss Arden — that 
is her name — asked Mrs. Baker to introduce her to me. She is 
suffering from want of success and will-power, and asked me if 
I could treat her case. I suggested that she should take our spare 
room so as to be continually under my influence, and she's only 
too glad to do this, as she is tired of boarding-houses. I did not 
tell you till negotiations were complete, as you are so busy. Will 
you come and see her?" 

"I will see her at lunch," returned Miss Forsitt, with unswerving 
determination to finish her allotted task, and she took up her pen 
and, even before her Christian Scientific friend had left the room, 
continued her novel on "The Eternal Womanly." Ten minutes 
before lunch she was duly introduced to Miss Arden, who, seated 
at the desk in the sitting-room, had covered several sheets of manu- 
script since her arrival. Something in her slender grace and pure 
transparent color suggested a strange flower from far away, and 
although Miss Forsitt's style was too uncompromisingly prosaic 
to allow her to formulate so fanciful a thought, it prompted a 
question as to how long Miss Arden had been in New York. 

"Barely two months," returned the girl. "1 came from Cali- 
fornia, where I was living on a ranch." 

"And you did not find Western ranch-life at all conducive to 
literature, did you?" asked Miss Eddystone. 

"No; the country is very distracting." The tones of the supple 
voice seemed to imply a fascination in distraction. 

"Do not look back," said her mentor, who had already begun 
the treatment. "You are living in the present. Take warning by 
the parable of Lot's wife. You feel the same about the country, 
don't you, Virginia?" 

"I do, indeed," returned Miss Forsitt. "The profoundest quiet 



THE MYSTERY OF MIRANDA. 229 

is in the heart of a great city. There is so much noise in the 
country. And then one's relations — " she went on tentatively, with 
a glance at the stranger's black dress. 

"I have none," said Miss Arden, with a faint sigh. 

"You are fortunate. Relations are the greatest of all obstacles 
.J work. But you were not living alone?" 

"Oh, no. I lived with a friend who owned the ranch." 

"And she was of no use to you at all," said Miss Eddystone, 
dismissing the friend with decision. 

"She was not sympathetic," said Miss Arden, gently. "She made 
it hard for me to work. It was always the open air — riding, hunt- 
ing, fishing — anything but the complete quiet I wanted." 

"A regular athletic type, entirely on the physical plane!" ex- 
claimed Miss Forsitt, scornfully. 

"I am a slow worker," Miss Arden went on. "Sometimes it 
takes me a whole day to write a single page. Sometimes I com- 
pletely destroy the result of months of work, and it always costs 
me a great effort." 

"Like Henry James and myself," murmured Miss Forsitt with 
encouragement. 

"Well, Randy — Miranda, I mean," she corrected herself, with 
a blush, no doubt for the vulgar diminutive, "could never under- 
stand. She said it was a waste of life. She could not leave me 
alone. She was a continual temptation — a merry, whistling, sing- 
ing Temptation, striding in and out of the house." 

"And you see Temptation still, sometimes," said Miss Eddy- 
stone reprovingly. "I can now understand why your coming to 
New York has not been a success. You have allowed yourself to 
be haunted by this person, who evidently had some influence over 
you. But you have only to put her resolutely out of your mind, 
and with my treatment and the contagion of Miss Forsitt's industry, 
you will be astonished at your own improvement." 

"I think I shall," returned the girl. "I have done more since 
1 came this morning than in a whole week at the boarding-house.'' 

"I am not surprised," returned Miss Eddystone. "Other people 
have noticed the bracing quality of our atmosphere. Don't forget,, 
however, when you are working, to leave off and tell yourself you 
are perfect success for ten minutes every hour." 

There were now three industrious workers in the convenient 
little apartment in East Seventy-fourth street, and under the in- 
fluence of its strenuous atmosphere Margaret Arden slowly but 
steadily produced stories and poems. To get them accepted by the 
magazine editors was another matter, and just at this important 
point the treatment broke down. Miss Eddystone adjured her to 



230 OUT WEST 

use her personal magnetism, even assisting her in the choice of a 
toilet designed to soften the most stony editorial heart. She pre- 
pared her patient for interviews by elaborate treatments for success, 
and even escorted her to the doors of the editorial rooms that up 
to the last moment she might whisper the shibboleths of her faith 
in her ears. But failure after failure began to pall upon her. She 
suspected that the magnetism with which she charged her till she 
ought to have been a perfect battery of positiveness, so to speak, 
was simply so much dissipated force. She feared that Margaret, 
as soon as she was out of her sight, quite forgot her directions as 
to breathing deep and slow and looking the enemy firmly and 
fixedly between the eyes. She confided her doubts to her friend. 
Miss Forsitt, however, put her finger on another weak spot. She 
believed her to be guilty of thinking and dreaming, when steady 
quill-driving should have filled her every moment. At last the 
crisis came. After a week in which every mail brought a new 
addition to the pile of rejected manuscripts that accumulated in a 
chilling snow-drift on her desk, Margaret declared her intention 
of relinquishing the struggle. Her resolve was received with a 
stony silence. Miss Eddystone controlled a start of surprise so 
admirably that she continued to pour out the morning coffee without 
looking up. Miss Forsitt broke a piece of crisp toast with an "I 
told you so" snap. 

"I am sorry," said Margaret, "to be a disappointment, but I 
feel it would be a waste of time to continue the treatment. At 
present there is no disguising the fact that I am a failure." 

"Failure!" exclaimed Miss Eddystone. "Can you still soil your 
lips with such a word ? You are a Success. In a few more weeks 
I will demonstrate it to you. You may not feel it yet, but it is 
bursting like a bud within you ; isn't it, Virginia ?" 

"Certainly," assented Miss Forsitt, without conviction. "But if 
she would sit down before a blank wall as I do, and never allow 
herself to be tempted to meditate on the roof, every line she wrote 
would have a selling quality." 

"But I don't feel like success," said Margaret. Her face had 
lost its pretty bloom, her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and 
an ordinary observer might well have believed that she had been 
gazing at a blank wall too long already. "I don't feel successful 
at all." 

"I will tell you why," said Miss Eddystone. "Your case is a 
peculiar one and has given me so much trouble, simply because there 
is a counter-irritation set up. Unconsciously you are still under 
the influence of that person out West." 

"How can that be, when I don't get any letters ?" 



THE MYSTERY OF MIRANDA. 231 

"It could be explained, 1 have no doubt, by the laws of psychic 
phenomena, and I am sure that I can overcome — " 

"Miss Eddystone," interrupted Miss Forsitt, "if you will take 
my advice, you will not waste time. It is Lot's wife over again. 
I feel sure she is determined to go back." 

"Is this true?" asked Miss Eddystone in horror. "After all I 
have done, will you actually return to that person on the ranch?" 

"Yes," replied Margaret. "I am going back, for I feel that if I 
went on making an effort, like Mrs. Dombey I might die of it." 

"Die !" exclaimed Miss Eddystone, with a snort of scorn ; "there 
is no death, there is no — " but she stopped short, restrained by a 
look in Margaret's eyes. "I won't argue with you," she went on 
coldly. "I see only too plainly you are not worth while. I give 
you up. I wash my hands of you from this hour." 

"And I give you up, too," said Miss Forsitt, rising tt, follow 
her friend who had marched to thfe door. "I believed you had 
literary ability. I was on the point of proposing to you to collab- 
orate in my novel on the Domestic Servant Problem, but as it is, 
I suppose you prefer washing dishes on a ranch. Margaret Arden, 
I am deeply disappointed in you." 

She shut the door sharply behind her, and Margaret, left alone, 
emptied out the contents of a salt-cellar upon the table-cloth and 
wrote in it, "Remember Lot's wife," before she rose to prepare 
for her journey. Once having formed her resolution, she acted 
with an unexpected swiftness, and soon the little apartment knew 
her no more. For some time, it is true. Miss Eddystone held her 
up to her other patients as a terrible example of what might happen 
if they did not wholly yield themselves to her influence ; and Miss 
Forsitt worked her into her novel as a type of criminal weakness. 

Two years went by, and then a strange thing happened. Literary 
New York and Boston were deeply stirred at the appearance of a 
new star in the literary firmament. The name of Margaret Arden 
was the signature to a series of short stories of the Sierras, so 
original and fresh that they seemed to open an entirely new and 
undiscovered page of human life. Profound astonishment invaded 
the prim apartment in East Seventy-fourth street. The lost repu- 
tation of Margaret was rehabilitated instantly, and the few remain- 
ing pages of her rejected manuscripts were rescued from the waste- 
paper basket and treasured as visible evidence of her sojourn in 
their midst. They even found time to send her their warm con- 
gratulations, saying that although the sun of her genius had ap- 
peared to sink in the Golden West, they for their part had never 
doubted but that it would rise to gladden the world again. In 
reply Margaret wrote no less gracefully, with the assurance that 



232 OUT WEST 

she owed the turning-point in her career to them; that their example 
had influenced her to return to CaUfornia with an entire change 
of mental attitude. This letter filled them with triumph, and also 
with curiosity. They wished to comprehend how their methods 
had taken effect on "that surprising child," as they now designated 
their former "failure." Finally, as Miss Eddystone had an uncle 
who possessed a flourishing orange-grove at Riverside, they deter- 
mined to go and see him and to pay a visit to the new genius on 
their way. 

But truly a prophet hath no honor in his own country ! 

When they at last stopped off at the insignificant hamlet of 
Linden, Eldorado County, the station-master solemnly assured 
them that no Miss Arden was known to him. Possibly the post- 
master might know the name, but he had gone to his mother's 
funeral and would not return till late the next day. Inquiry at 
the hotel failed to reveal the whereabouts of any two ladies living 
on a ranch, though it was true that Mrs. Jones had once enjoyed 
the services of a hired girl, named Miranda, who was now in 
Mexico. It was plain to the friends that Margaret, with the retiring 
disposition of true genius, had buried herself even from these 
rustics, and it was equally plain that it was their duty to unearth 
her. Accordingly, on the next day they set out to make a tour 
of the surrounding ranches. 

The day was glorious; the air delicious and exhilarating, but to 
these two ladies, more used to street-cars than even to the side- 
walks of New York, the rough mountain-roads that led from ranch 
to ranch were full of tribulation and hardships. Soon in their thin 
foot-gear they suffered like that pilgrim to our Lady of Loretto 
who had not boiled the peas in his shoes. Moreover, their search 
was terribly disheartening, although at each ranch at which they 
made inquiries for two young maiden ladies living together hopes 
were held out to them that further on So-and-so or So-and-so 
might be taking boarders that summer. But even where boarders 
w^ere found, lounging on the porch of an old farm-house, no Mar- 
garet and no Miranda were among their company. At last, utterly 
baffled, they turned toward their hotel again. But the tragedy of 
their day was to come. Mistaking a creek for a road, they lost 
their way completely in the heart of a wild canon. Tired, faint, 
and hungry, they struggled on, fearful lest night should overtake 
them in this fierce defile, peopled, in their imagination, by prowling 
mountain-lions and wild-cats. At length, however, to their great 
relief, the frowning walls that hemmed them in grew less rugged, 
and unexpectedly widened out on either side into a pleasant little 
flat surrounded by gentle, grassy slopes; most wonderful of all, 



THB MYSTERY OP MIRANDA. 233 

there was a house — no rough farm-house of the kind they had met 
with throughout their wanderings, but a peaceful dwelling, with 
its feet in a terraced garden. It looked kindly toward them, and 
from its open windows waved a unanimous flutter of white curtains 
like a beckoning of hands. Oaks clustered lovingly about its walls ; 
inviting paths wound upward to its doors. After the savage wild- 
ness of the mountains, these gardens seemed a veritable Eden. But 
where was Adam, and where was Eve? Murmuring the blessed 
word, "Civilization!" they looked in vain for any sign of life more 
human than the waving of the curtains. Smoothing their crumpled 
shirt-waists and pluming their disordered locks, they passed through 
a painted gate. Flowers showed their lovely faces, but there were 
no other sig^s of welcome. Reaching airy porches, they peeped 
into a cool, matted hall. They knocked — something in the atmos- 
phere of the place made their knocks very gentle. And with voices 
hushed to whispers by the profound quiet, they turned after fruit- 
less waiting to seek another entrance. The turn of an angle brought 
them face to face with a trellis, covered with roses and wisteria, 
and from behind this screen came an indescribably soft sound like, 
yet unlike, the cooing of a dove. With one consent, they bent for- 
ward and peered through the leaves. 

Within, against the lattice of an open porch, covered with flower- 
ing vines, like the rich backgrounds of Venetian painters, sat a 
woman — the little, shadowy, delicate woman they had known, 
grown ampler, rosier, warmer — Margaret Arden, with a babe in 
the lap of her many-folded gown. And as the babe cooed, she 
cooed also, 'and the radiance and content on her tender face seemed 
summed up in the soft wise, foolish sound. And then, as though 
she perforce must share her happiness, she called softly, "Randy, 
Randy, come here." 

Miranda ! The mystery was to be solved at last ! A chair was 
pushed back inside the house ; there were vigorous footsteps, too 
vigorous to belong to the most athletic girl who ever existed — and 
lo ! upon the porch, a tall man with commanding shoulders. As he 
bent over the mother and the babe — strong and powerful and kind — 
Life completed the Madonna picture as Art has never yet been able 
to do. 

"Look! Randolph!" said Margaret. "See his dear little toes try 
to catch hold of my fingers ! He never did that before." 

"Isn't he a wonder!" returned Randolph, with enthusiasm. "The 
best thing that could possibly have happened to us — better than all 
the novels and stories in the world." 

Margaret buried her face among tiny hands and tip-tilted toes. 

"You darling little thing — ah-goo, ah-goo." 



234 OUT WEST 

"Ah-goo, ah-goo," responded the baby, with a perfect proficiency 
in that language of babes and suckHngs which the Scriptures say 
is perfect praise. When Randolph also added his voice to the 
chorus, it was too much for the amazed spectators. Miss Eddy- 
stone plucked Miss Forsitt by the sleeve, and, red with indigna- 
tion, they retraced their steps, and hastened from the house as 
swiftly as their exhausted condition would allow. Out of earshot, 
and behind the shelter of some manzanita bushes, they sank upon 
a mound. 

"Miranda!" exclaimed Miss Eddystone. "How shamefully she 
deceived us!" 

"Cora," said Miss Forsitt, solemnly, "she was married to him all 
the time." 

"Oh!" gasped Miss Eddystone, "Why, of course. 'Fond of 
the open air — whistling, singing about the house!' How we were 
taken in, and how my treatment was thrown away upon her." 

"Well, she paid you," said Miss Forsitt, snappishly. "What is 
to be done now ?" 

"She doesn't deserve that we should go and see her,' 'answered 
her friend. 

"I disagree with you. I think she does deserve it." 

Miss Eddystone comprehended. "Yes," she agreed, "she was 
always over-sensitive. She will be utterly humiliated by the ex- 
posure." 

"Besides, after having come so far — we certainly must have some- 
thing to eat," said Miss Forsitt. 

Comforted by this thought, they once more sought admittance 
at the wide-open door. 

"Knock louder," said Miss Forsitt, as the sound of Miss Eddy- 
stone's feeble summons fell upon her ears. And she herself 
knocked, a knock suppliant from sheer exhaustion. Schooled by 
tribulation, they had a meek, almost abject look. 

Light footsteps crossed the matted floor, and there stood Mar- 
garet, beaming at sight of them. 

"You dear things !" she cried, extending a hand to each in the 
freest and most unembarrassed manner. "So you've come to see 
me all that way. Come right in. You're just in time for supper. 
But first I'll introduce you to my husband, Randolph Burton, and 
our last production — he's the cunningest, sweetest thing you ever 
saw." 

And this she proceeded to do without the shadow of a blush. 

Wiemar, Placer Co., Gal. 




235 
UNDER THE MEDUSA CACTUS 

By MARY H. COATES 

ISS ACKERS stood directly in front of the mirror, yet 

her eyes were unconsciously trying to cover two views, 

or rather, they were making a vain effort to perform 

1 time-saving, double service of guiding the hair brush 

in smoothing down stray grayish locks, and at the same 

moment looking out the \yindow and down the sunny slope, to read 

the clock of shadows under the cactus and palo verde. 

"It's quite a little after noon already," she said, turning at last to 
Panquita, the little Mexican who was serving in the two-fold 
capacity of housemaid and companion during her winter stay in 
the desert. "I must hurry right away! And, Pankeety, you're to 
stay at home in this tent-house till I come back from town," look- 
ing trustfully at her little maid. "You understand?" 

"Yeth," affably answered Panquita — not in the least under- 
standing. 

Panquita's knowledge of the English language was limited to a 
few severely-abbreviated, ready-made sentences; and Miss Ackers 
knew not a word of Panquita's mother-tongue. But linguistic 
deficiencies troubled the mistress very little, and the maid not at all. 
Gesture and facial expression are resources ever available — 
potently so — when, as in this case, they fraternize with an under- 
standing of kindly intentions. 

Miss Ackers finally tied on her bonnet and started toward the 
door. Panquita, alertly watching every movement of her austere- 
looking but really kind mistress, waiting for some sort of "You- 
may-go-with-me" sign — Panquita lifted her shoulders significantly. 

"What's the matter? Oh, you want to go, too! Well, you can't: 
not today. Pve got business to tend to, and can't be hampered by 
havin' to keep track of you. Wait — yes, you can. What's the sense 
in my havin' you for company if I don't use you? You can help 
with the bundles, too. Run and put on your white apron." Miss 
Ackers repeated her directions in vigorous pantomime. 

Half way along the path which connected the tent village with 
the city's suburbs, stood the "Medusa Cactus," a tall, straight stem, 
topped with numerous snake-like twisted branches. Under the 
Medusa was a rustic seat. 

Miss Ackers sat down. "Here, Pankeety, hold these letters and 
my purse while I put my gloves on — well ! You'll have to pick 'em 
up ; my fingers are all thumbs." She smiled grimly. 

Panquita smiled too, a delicious want-to-please-you smile. 

"Oh, you can grin now; but sometime you'll get old, and maybe 
have rheumatic fingers," observed her mistress portentiously. 



236 OUT WEST 

To Panquita, a serious expression was almost always associated 
with the negative. She shook her head accordingly. 

"You mean 'yes,' Panekety," corrected her mistress. "And I'm 
not complainin'. Fm a mite thankful. If it hadn't been for these 
onery hands, and the doctor's say in' 'Change of climate, or your 
finger'll be pot-hooks,' I'd never got this chance to see the desert." 
She spread her hands out in a lively but awkward gesture. 

Panquita saw only an exhibition of invalid fingers. 

"No good." Voice and face expressed sympathetic interest. 

"Oh, middlin' good." Miss Ackers sniffed slightly. "They must 
have been to have gethered that lot of cactuses." Then she looked 
away to the desert range. "My ! Ain't the mountains blue ! I never 
saw the beat. If I was a poet I'd be singin' of their different blue 
colors — pale blue, sky blue, china blue, violet, and just plain blue, 
but so blue." 

"Yeth !" Panquita nodded delightedly. Hers always had been 
those enchanting peaks. 

"They're like the mountains at home, kind of," mused Miss Ack- 
ers, as they walked along. "If there was scrub-oak foothills and a 
green valley and along here was white houses with gableroofs and 
vine porches, and around 'em orchards and hayfields, with men 
singin' — Jim always did sing, plow or harvest — oh!" She caught 
her breath, and looked sharply at Panquita. 

"No!" Panquita repHed promptly. Her mistress' face had gone 
very sober. 

"Well, Pankeety, you hit it right for once! 'No' is the word. 
I've no privilege to think of Jim. But it's curious how I've got him 
in my thoughts today — me, 'way off here ! Gave him the mitten 
twenty-five years ago; or, to get down to facts, the shoe was on 
the other foot. After that — that ride, he deliberately went off and* 
courted Malvina Evans." She disgustedly unhooked her skirt from 
a mesquite branch reaching obtrusively over the path. 

"No like it?" Panquita inquired, eyeing the cat-claw branch. 

"No, I didn't. And afterwards, well, with so many at home 
needin' me, I had to think of other things — about as many as that 
old Medusy is twisted — and about as thorny," said she, slightly 
mixing her figures. 

Miss Ackers entered the post-office, turned to the boxes, and, 
opening one, took out a letter. 

"Why, Pankeety, it's not mine!" said she, studying the address. 
"It's in care of box 73 — where is that — oh, right under mine. 
There's a mistake. And — 'James B. Harker,' " she read. "Why, 
it's Jim's full name! Jim!" she repeated, in an awed whisper. 
"Jim out here! I wonder where in town he's stayin'? I wish I 
could see him. Suppose I send a note — I believe I'll risk it — 
there's paper and envelope in my bag. Pankeety, you wait. I've 
got a letter to write," as she went over to the public desk. 



UNDER THE MEDUSA CACTUS. 23.7 

"I'll say it was in the wrong box, and won't you come out and 
visit me. 'Your family,' I'll say. Malvina Evans shan't have a 
ctiance to say that I recollect — nothin' !" she confided to Panquita, 
who stood obediently at her elbow. "Let's see. My tent is kind of 
small and cluttered up. Why not tomorrow afternoon up under 
the Medusy." 

Miss Ackers went about town transacting business in a tumult 
of absent-mindedness. All the afternoon the world seemed to her 
to be wavering in a haze and yet acutely unreal ; the desert's sun- 
shine, the splendor of sky, the amethyst and azure of the range, were 
but a topsy-turvy phantasm. 

When they reached the hill-path the sun had gone behind the rim- 
ming mountains, and the peaks loomed velvety purple and propheti- 
cally near and real. Suddenly Miss Ackers' fantastically specula- 
tive thoughts shifted to the commonplace everyday objective. 

"Forever ! What if it's his son !" she gasped, as she fumblingly 
opened the tent door in the dusk. "I never once thought of that. 
More likely it's strangers — maybe high-toned tourist folks. Come 
in, Pankeety — quick!" She closed the door with a decisive bang. 

The next afternoon when Miss Ackers was dressing, preparatory 
to keeping the tryst, she became extremely nervous. 

"I declare, yesterday while I was writin' for 'em to come to the 
Medusy, I thought 'twould be' most like a home picnic ) but now 
the time's come, I'm scared as a witch!" she confessed to watchful, 
wondering Panquita. "I'm goin' to take a peep out first." With 
shaking fingers she unclosed the door an inch. "Why, there's a 
man under the Medusy now ! He's oldish, and a bit round- 
shouldered. I'm goin' straight out and talk to him — it'll help out to 
have someone else there when they come. Where's my bonnet?" 

Panquita saw the man under the cactus ; and she noticed that he 
seemed to be waiting for someone. She also took in the fact that 
her mistress had seen him, and was now in a state of excitement — 
her facial expression said, pleased excitement. It was very extra- 
ordinary, Panquita thought, but could it be that the man was Miss 
Ackers' friend? She hoped so. She decided to ask. 

"Amigo?" she queriod, naively stressing the second syllable, as 
she gave the vowel its Spanish "e" sound. 

" *Me go?' Why, yes, you can go if you want to," replied Miss 
Ackers, regarding her pensively a moment, "but, Pankeety, you 
mustn't say it that way! 'Me go' ain't the right grammar. You 
ought to say, 'May I go?' Now run and change this," touching 
the little maid's calico apron. 

Panquita's eyes danced. Miss Ackers had nodded "yes." The 
man was her friend. She turned one long appreciative look upon 
her middle-aged and usually staid, but now tremblingly, expectantly 
agitated mistress, and then scramblingly hastened to put on her 
white apron. 

When they came near the man under the cactus Miss Ackers 
suddenly pushed back her bonnet. "It's Jim," she cried. 

"And Ellen," the man answered, taking her outstretched hands. 
"Is it really you?" she questioned, incredulously. "Oh, Jim, I'm 
so glad!" 

"So am I — the gladdest ever! I thought I recognized your hand- 



238 OUT WEST 

write, but I wasn't sure. Cricky ! but it's lucky I stopped off at this 
town to visit Dalton a couple of weeks." 

"When'd you come?" Then she withdrew her hands in a guilty 
start of remembrance. "Where's your wife? Did she come, too?" 

"My wife !" 

"Yes. Malvina Evans, that was." 

"Malvina Ev — oh, I see! Why, that never came to anything." 

She stared at him without speaking. Then she said, "I didn't 
know. I moved off up to brother's about that time, and didn't 
hear." 

"Why, Ellen, we quarreled and agreed to play quit before we got 
anywhere near the proposin' act," he explained. "I thought you 
heard all about it," he said, and slowly added, "heard and — didn't 
care." 

"Did you ?" Ellen looked away to the blue mountains. Oh, those 
long years, she thought, and all thq while he had supposed she 
knew — and didn't care. 

"They're like the mountains at home, don't you think?" asked 
he, in an effort to break the awkward silence. 

"Yes, but they're lots cheerfuller," she said." "They haven't 
memories like the ones at home." Then she spoke passionately, with 
a rush of vivid recollections. "I couldn't forget if I lived ten thou- 
sand years. The last ride you and I took was up the mountain 
road. The next day — it happened. Harvey Williams came over 
from Porterville to see father ; it was important papers to be signed, 
and father was away at the Corners, so I had to ride clear there 
with Harvey." 

"Father — business papers ?" he broke in. "Gee-whilikins ! Was 
that how it come about — that long ride? And I, with my whipper- 
snapper high temper, 1 got on my ear about it ; and played the game 
of go-riding-with-somebody-else. I took Malvina out. If ever a 
fellow was sorry — " He looked at her keenly and asked : "And 
you never married?" 

"No, I never married." 

"Nor I. If I had known ! But Ellen, it's no use to go back over 
that. If you say — will you?" speaking eagerly, "if you say, we'll 
start over again, right here under this old cactus tree !" He leaned 
forward ; his face came into the sunlight. "Now ?" he asked. 

"Jim ! Oh — why, I believe we're back — really !" holding out her 
hands again. "Do you know when I first saw you here I thought 
you looked oldish; but it's all faded out!" 

"Just what I was thinking of you, Ellen! Say, turn your head 
sideways a little. It's there! — that big, brown, buss-freckle — 
remember? Yes, it's the same as ever!" 

"My goodness, Jim! Pankeety's lookin' ! What'll she think?" 

"Don't care what she thinks," glancing at the astonished, grin- 
ning little maid. "I know what she'll be pretty soon. Give you 
just one hour to fix her up for a bridesmaid at a weddin' !" 

"Amigo — si!" delightedly averred Panquita, looking from one 
happy face to the other. 

"You bet!" emphatically agreed he, reaching one hand to her, 
sliding the other around Ellen's waist. "Come on! Me go see 
parson." 

Santa Monica, Cal. ' 



NAVAJO BLANKETS 

AND INDIAN CURIOS AT 'WHOLESALE 

I have more than 250 weavers in my employ, including the most skilful now 
living, and have taken the greatest pains to preserve the old colors, patterns, 
and weaves. Every blanket sold by me carries my personal guarantee of its 
quality. In dealing with me. you will get the very finest blankets at wholesale 
prices. I also handle the products of the Hopi (Moqul) Indians, buying them un- 
der contract with the trading posts at Keam's Canyon and Oralbi and selling 
them at wholesale. 

I have constantly a very fine selection of Navajo silverware and jewelry, 
Navajo "rubies" cut and uncut, peridots and native turquois. Also the choicest 
modern Moqui pottery, and a rare collection of prehistoric pottery. 

J. L HUBBELL, ■"■"'" f^der 

Oanado, Apache Co., Arizona 



Write for my Catalogue 
and Price List 











SAN FERNANDO, CAL. 






k 




nm^T'^^m 1 




Ihe Ideal Spot for a Home 
The Finest Citrus Fruits in the World 

Are grown in the San Fernando Valley. 250,000 
acres of the most fertile soil in Southern Cali- 
foroia. on which is grown every product of the 

sou. For detailed information of the opportunities 
offered, write to any of the following: 

R. P. Waite Markham & Dickenon Stewart Fruit Co. 
Van Winkle Bro.. John T. WiUon Henry HoUye 
Mrs. F. L. Boniff F. A. Powell S. N. Lopez &Co. 


iiA-."^ 


j^ -■^ 




";-^ 


" ,——■-*' -- 


:^= 




c 


GEORGE JR. SCHOOL 





United States 

Post OxTice Money Orders 
and Government Bonds 

Arc bougkt largely ror SAFETY. Building ana Loan Association stock is 
bought tor the same reason — SAFETY — ana also because it pays a liigKer rate of 



interest. 



i he Continental Building and Loan 
Association 

pays 6 per cent net per annum, payable semi-annually. 
WASHINGTON T>ODGE. 'President WILLIAM CORBIN. Secretary 

MARKET y CHURCH STS., SAN FRANCISCO, CALIF. 



Hummel Bros. & Co. furnish best help. 116-118 E. Second. 



RDI 




IN THE SAN BERNARDINO MOUNTAINS 

nr'HIS City is situated in a valley of great fertility, while the scenic beauties are unex- 
celled. Three transcontinental railroads enter the city and trolley lines lead to the 
mountains and to adjacent towns and communilies. Here are located the great Santa Fe 
railroad shops, employing more than one thousand men, with a pay-roll amounting to $ 1 00,000 
per month. The business men of the city very largely furnish the vast supplies for the min- 
ing districts in other parts of the county. ^ Arrowhead Hotel, Arrowhead Hot Springs, 
California, is easily reached by any train to San Bernardino, thence by trolley car direct to 
Arrowhead Hotel. ^ First class schools, public library and churches of nearly all denom- 
nationf. ^ For Booklet and Further Information, Address 

SECRETARY BOARD OF TRADE, SAN BERNARDINO, CAL. 

or any of the following leading business firms: 



Arrowhead Hotel 
David R. Glass, Business College 
Insurance, Loan and Land Company 
W. L. Vestal, Insurance and Real Elstate 
Miller-McKenney-Lightfoot Company, Real Es- 
tate Brokers 



Stewart Hotel 

California State Bank 

Jones Bros., Kodak Supplies 

Draper & Dubbell, Real Elstate, Insurance and 

Loans 
San Bernardino Realty Board 




Maicr Brewing Company's 

^'Select" Beer 



XTOTED for its Age, 
Purity and Strength. 
All shipments by bottles or 
kegs promptly filled. Family 
trade a specialty. :: :: :: 



: OFFICE AND BREWERY i 



440 Aliso Street, Los Angeles 

BOTH PHONES: Exchange 91 



I^cdwood 
City 



^ 




COUNTY BUILDING, REDWOOD CITY 



THE county seat of San Mateo County. One of the oldest towns 
in California, yet one of the newest and most up-to-date. 
At the head of navigation on an arm of San Francisco Bay, and 
certain to become an important manufacturing center. 

For full particulars address an\) of the following: 



Curran Clark. Real EsUte, 147 Main St.. Redwood. 

or. Rubs Bids.. 235 Montgromery Street, San 

Francisco. 
Redwood City Commercial Bank. 



Redwood City Realty Co.. Inc.. Redwood City. 
Savingrs & Trust Co. of San Mateo County. 
Redwood City Lumber Co. 
Edw. F. Fitzpatrick, Attorney-at-Law. 




San Diego 
California 



AMERICA'S FIRST 
PORT OF CALL 
ON THE PACIFIC 

San Diego Has 

The best climate in the world 
The bat water supply in the west 
The best harbor on the Pacific Ocean 
The ideal site (or a home 



The Culgoa, one d the Evans Fleet loading supplies in San Diego Harbor. 



For information address JOHN S. MILLS, Sec. Chamber of Commerce, or any of the following: 



FIrnt Nutlonnl Rank 

J. U. I.endnhl, Kenl Kntate 

Fred'k KnuiMt & C-tt., Kenl Entate 

0*»nll & Moody, Kenl Kiitate 

South Snn Dleico Inv. Co. 

Southern Trunt nnd SavinK* Bank 

H. I.ynnell. Furniture 

PaolUr Furn. & Show Caae SIfK. Co. 

Star Theatre 

Homeland Improvement Co. 



Cottage Realty Co. 

Gunn & JuNiier, Keal Estate 

KniMton KeaKy Co. 

M. Hall, iteal Futate 

J. \V. >InNier, I'ntent Broker 

HnlHcy-Finnnn Inv. Co. 

Star HuiIderM< Supply Co. 

Aetna Seruritie* Co. 

J. A. Jackaon, Real Estate 



Help— All Kinds. See Hummel Bros. & Co., 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 




UPLAND 



San 

Bernardino 

County 



Business center of the great Ontario Colony, which lies in center of the great 
San Bernardino and Pomona Valley, 40 miles east of Los Angeles, traversed by 
Santa Fe, Salt Lake and S. P. Railroads. Upland is the north two-thirds of the 
Colony, greatly prosperous from its splendid orange and lemon groves. At its 
many packing houses many people are employed on pay-rolls that aggregate many 
thousand dollars annually contributing to the great prosperity -of its banks and 
business houses of every kind, and contributing to the rapid growth of the town. 
With Cucamonga and the greater part of Ontario Colony tributary to its business 
and social liff TToland ip most invit.iner for the business man or home roakeker. 

F"or Information and BooKlet Address Any o^ tHe Folio-win^ 



Williams Bros., Planingr Mill and Con- 
tractors 
Geo. J. Chllds Co., Real Estate 
Commercial Bank of Upland 
Ontario-Cucnmung^a Fruit Exchange 
Stewart Citrus Association 
Colborn Bros.' Upland Store 
H. C. Kennedy, Upland Cyclery 



J. T. Bronv-n, Star Barber 
Atwood-Blakeslee Lumber Co. 
N. G. Pahl, Real Estate 
Gordon C. Day, Blacksmlthingr 
Strachan Fruit Co. 
Johnson & Bronvn, Groceries 
Upland fiefwm 



Occansidc 




The Finest Home S»te and 

Pleasure l^esort in San 

Die^o County 

THE SAN LUIS REY 
VALLEY 

Which is tributary to Ocean- 
side, is a large, beautiful 
and fertile valley watered 
by the San Luis Key rivt-r. 
Water in abundance is ob- ^ , . „ . , ,. , . „ .... 

tained from the underflow Rebuddmg Corndors at ban Lu., Rey Mission 

of the river by means of wells and pumping plants. Large and small tracts can be 
bought at reasonable prices The land is adapted for fruits, vegetables, alfalfa, dairying 
and poultry raising. The San Luis Rey Mission is four miles from Oceanside in the val- 
ley and was founded in 1798. 

Finest quail and duck shooting in America. Auto road complete from Oceanside to 
San Diego. Write Board of Trade, or the following: 



H. T. Blake, Hotel 

Griffen Hayes, Livery 

Oceanside Electric & Gas Co. 

P. J. Brannen, Hardware 

First National Bank of Oceanside 

Nicholls & Reid 

M. N. Casterline, Lumber and Hardware 



Wm. M. Pickle, Express and Drayagre 

John Griffin, Box 185 

Geo. E. Morris 

Chas. G. Borden & Co., Dry Goods and Shoes 

A. Walker, Boots and Shoes 

J. M. Jolley 

C. S. Libbey, Vice-President Bank of Oceanside 



Helo— All Kinds. See Hummel Bros. & Co., 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 



HEMET, CALIFORNIA 



An Ideal Place 
for a Home 



...soil 

RICH DEEP 

SANDY LOAM 

"Water Supply 

One of the best in 
the entire south- 
west. 

NO SALOONS 

High and Grammar 
Schools. :: :: :: 

WHITE : 



ffRGUSON INYKTMENT CO. 
or WILLIAM KINGHAM 

Hemel, Rivertkie Co., Cal. 




ORANGE GROVE. HEMET TRACT 



PRODUCTS: Potatoes, Alfalfa. Peanuts. Walnuts, Almonds, Berries; 
Citrus and Deciduous Fruits of All Kinds. 



^^^.^^^ 


'^*'^s^Z> ":'r^-2p&--'^i 


gKufefl^ ■'"umwiikLx^^iL^^^^ 



MONTEREY 

CALIFORNIA 



o" 



M' 



VIEW FROM MONTEREY HEIGHTS SANITARIUM 



'ONTEREY Heights 

Sanitarium is situated 
in the best part of Monte- 
rey. Sheltered by the 
pines from the full force of the ocean breezes and yet having a magnificent view 
of the beautiful bay which, while large enough to shelter the combined navies of 
the Atlantic and Pacific, is almost completely land locked. Monterey has the 
finest winter and summer climate in the United States. 

AN IDEAL HEALTH RESORT 



Lil]i« Sanatorium 

MerchantM AMnoolatlon 

Monterey County Gn« & Blectrlc Co. 

A. M. AgKfler, (Grocer 

David Jn«-kN ('orporntlon 

Wrleht & Gould. Heal Eiitate 



F. M. Hilby. DruKKiat 

Littlefleld <& .MaaenKill, Bureka Stablea 

Franrla Doiid 

Ella ThomaM, Real Batate 

Monterey Kevra Co. 



KAMONA Toilet ^o A p 



FO R .; 
EVERYV^HEF^E 



LODI 




CALirORINIA 



Go Where You WUl 



and you cannot find any better land 
than the rich alluvial sediment so 
around Lodi. It is the most pro- 
ductive grape growing center in 
America. Nearly one-half of the 
table grapes from California were 
shipped from Lodi. This section 
cannot be excelled in this of any 
State for substantial profits. The 
vineyards yield from four to six tons 
to the acre and the F ame Tokay 
grapes bring from $40 to $80 per 
ton. Peaches, Apricots, Plums, 
Olives, Almonds, Berries, etc., also 
yield satisfactory profits. 

BEFORE DECIDING 

where to locate, send for our new 
booklet "Lodi." Address Lodi 
Board of Trade, Lodi, California. 



The Reedley Country 

On the famous Kings River is in all points one of the most fertile in 
the San Joaquin Valley. Soil, water and sunsh ne combine to 
make it all that the most visionary booster can have imagined. 
The principal products are raisins, peaches, oranges, apricots, plums, berries, 
grain, and dairy products. 

The water system is the cheapest in the state outtiide of riparian rights. 
The annual cost of water under the district system, under which we operate, does 
not exceed 50 cents per acre. 

Ten acres in fruit is sufficient to maintain all the expense in keeping an ordi- 
nary family. Twenty acres in fruit is sufficient to maintain an ordinary family 
and hire all the work done, and spend a long vacation in the adjacent mountains, 
or on the seashore. Forty acres is sufficient to maintain the same family and to 
allow an annual deposit in the banks of $2500 to $3000, besides taking the outing. 
Good Schools, Churches, Roads, Telephones, rural deliveries, etc., etc. 

...REEDLEY... 

is the coming town in the San Joaquin Valley. It will be next to Fresno in size 
and commercial importance in a few years. It has three railroads, with ten pas- 
senger trains daily. It has two banks with their own buildings, and all lines of 



merchandise stores. The country and the town will bear thorough investigation. 
Come and see for yourself, or address 

SECRETARY CHAMBER OF 
or any of the following: 

Lyon Land Co. 

Stinson-Webb Co., Real E^state 

Reedley Land Company 



COMMERCE, 

Reedley, Calif. 



ShafTer Bros. 

Jesse Jansen, Jnnsen Water Works 

I. J. Peek, Lumber Dealer 



Ramona^Toilet^oap 



EVERVWHEWE 




NOTICE!! 

If you're feeling well and do- 
ing well where you are don't 
move, but, if you'ie bound to 
move make a good move by 
moving to 

Corning, 
California 



OLIVE OIL PLANT, MAYWOOD COLONY, CORNING. CAL. 



which town contains about 2000 good American people, all of whom get enough to eat 
and wear, and find some time for recreation. Land is good. Price is low. Terms are 
easy. Climate is healthful. Water abundant. Whiskey scaice, the town being DRY. 
Good Schools, Churches, Stores and all modem things that go to make an up-to-date com- 
munity. Lots of free literature for distribution. Write to 



May^votid Colony Co. 

W. N. WooflMon, Real Kntate 

J. E. lliiKKleN, Mnyivood Hotel 

W. K. liiiyM, A tt«iruey-nt-l.iiw 

\V. Herbert SniUMon, Maywood Colony 

Nur«ery 
A. B. Altken, Real Estate 



Rieharil B. Frlpp, Inniirauee A sent 
Corning L,iiinl>er Co.. Building Materials 
J. B. Beaumont, lOIephnnt Uvery 
Chan. Cramer, HarneMM and SlioeN 
The Diamond Match Co., BulldinK Mate- 

rlalM 
The Bank of CornInK 




"SISKIYOU 

the GOLDEN" 

Ideal Climate 

Unrivaled Scenery 
Great Cattle Country 

Immense Pine Forests 
Rich in Minerals 
Lands Low in Price 

Splendid Farming Country 
Wonderful Fruit Country 
Excellent Schools 

Healthiest Section of the West 



For additional information booklets, maps, etc.. address T. J. NOLTON, Sec- 
retary of the Siskiyou County Chamber of Commerce, Yreka, Cal., or any of the 
following: 



Vreka Railroad Co. 

SeoHelfl & Herman Co., Furniture 

V. I,. Colinrn, Attitrney at iia^v 

Bird A Grant, Caah Groeem 

A»ery'M DruK Store 

L. II. I.ee. Fruit and VeKetablen 



Frank ^^. Hooper, Attorney-Real Estate 
AuMT. Slmmert, Meat Market 
SiHklyou Abstract Co. 
Harmon & Harmon, Uvery Stable 
Jas. R. Tapscott, Attorney at La^v 



ANYVO THEATRICAL COLD CREAM 



prevents early wrinkles. It is not a freckle coatinr ; It re- 
rnoves them. ANYVO CO., 427 North Main St., Los Anirelea 



winter. 





It's Summer All The \m 
at Pacific Grove, California 
The Winter Seaside Resort 

The CALIFORNIA CHAUTAUQUA on" the 
beautiful bay of Monterey, 128 miles south of San 
Francisco, Sunshine and no frost. Flowers bloom 
A paradise for invalids and convalescents. 
Surf bathing every day. Fine new bath house. Won- 
derful submarine gardens. Glass bottom boats. Boat- 
mg and fishing. Magnificent scenery and charming drives. 
Beautiful military post. Fine schools. Old 
^ *■-- mission and famous historic buildings. All 

^ _|r round trip railroad ticket are good for a visit 

% I to Pacific Grove without extra charge. 

rrlfcui For literature and information address 

BOARD OF TRADE. PACIFIC GROVE. CALIF., 
or any of the following firms: 
Holman's Department Store; D. R. Beardsley, Gro- 
cer; Pacific Improvement Co., Real Estate; Culp 
Brothers, Stationery, Sporting Goods; C. S. Harris, 
Real Elstate; Monterey County Gas & Electric Co.; 
Winston & Winston, Del Mar Hotel; Alexander & 
Fitzsimmons, Real E.state; Long & Gretter, Pharma- 
cists; Strong & Camp, Real Elstate & Insurance, 
Mrs. Thomas Gibson, Grove Cafe; Thos. M. Luke, 
Mammoth Stables: W. M. Davidson, Real Elstate. 





Porterville 

In the Early Orange Belt 

Tulare County, California 

Will have a dozen "talks" with Out West readers 
during the coming year. 

The returns of our thousands of acres of splendid 
orange orchards fully justify the adlivity in well-drilling 
pumping plant installation and new planting now in 
progress. 

Our new colonies offer inducements to men with 
small capital to care for other growers while their own are 
coming into bearing. Drop a line for "Pradlical results.' 

Inquiie of Chamber of Commerce, Porterville, Cal 



Any of the Followins Will Supply Information 



Hall & Boiler, Real Elstate 

Robt. Hurbach. Write for Booklet 

A. J. DeLaney Co., Hardware, Etc. 

Porterville Lnmber Co. 

Valley Grain & Warehouse Co. 

W^llko Blentx, Merchant 

Pioneer Land Co. 



Avery & Seybold, Real Estate 

First National Bank 

W^illiams & Young Co. 

Orange Belt Laundry 

AVni. A. Sears Inv. Co. Booklet free 

Porterville Rochdale Co. 

W^. E. Premo 



X 



SAN JOSE 




i THE FAMOUS 
SANTA CLARA VALLEY 

CALIFORNIA 

Fifty mijles south from San Francisco. Population including immediate 
connect ng suburbs, 57,820 (City Directory Census). The Educational, 
Horticultural, Scenic and Home Center of Califomia. ^ Magnificent all- 
year-round climate. Stimulating, not enervating. ^ To learn the facts of 
this beautiful section of Califomia, address Dept. B, 

San Jose Chamber of Commerce, San Jose, Cal. F^n^^i^, 



T. S. Montgomery A Son, Real Estate 

Hotel St. Janiea 

The Flmt National Bank of San Joae 

The Bank of San Jose, 'California 
Security State Bank of San Jose 
Garden City Bank and Trust Co. 



Jos. H. Rueker & Co., Real Estate, 

Cor. 2nd and Santa Clara Sta. 
E. A. & J. O. Hayes 
C. P. Anderson & Co., Real Estate 
A. C. Darby, Real Estate 
James A. Clayton & Co. (Inc.), Real 
Estate and Investments 



SAN PEDRO, 




SAN PEDRO HARBOR 



Dodnon Bros., Contractor* 
Bank of San Pedro 
O. C. Abbott, Real Estate & Ins. 
San Pedro Ice Co. 



CALIFORNIA 

XHe Harbor City 

In addition to the large 
amounts being expended 
by the government to im- 
prove the harbor, over six 
million dollars of private 
capital is now being ex- 
pended to improve ship- 
ping facilities. The object 
of this expenditure is to 
furnish terminals for 
coastwise, Oriental and 
South American traffic. 
San Pedro is one of the 

he«t towns in Southern 
California and its pros- 
pects are exceptionally 
bright. Write to the Sec- 
retary of the San Pedro 

CHAMBER OF COM- 
MERCE for information 

regarding San Pedro, or 

any of the following 

firms. 



Huff & AVilllams Furnitare Co. 
J. A. Rocha, Contractor & Builder 
N. T. McClennon 
F. H. Poole & Co., Real Estate 



>*?!;rI«paloina ToiLET5?AP 



AX ALL 

DRUG STORE: 



ORLAND 

Offers Opportunities 

The Greatest in California 

I 'HE U. S. Government is 
'■• spending $650,000 to irrigate 
this splendid soil. When com- 
pleted this is to be the model 
irrigation system. 

^ Landowners must sell land in 
tracts of 

40 Acres or Less 



(If they do not, Uncle Sam will ) . Let us tell 
you all about it. Write to Frank S. Reager, 
Secretary Water Users' Assn.; P. D. Bane, Real 
Elstate. W. H. Morrissey, Real Estate; R. A. 
Pabst, Real Estate, C. C. Scribner, Livery; S. 
Iglick, Physician and Surgeon. 



SARATOGA 

SANTA CLARA COUNTY, CAL. 




THE SPRINGS AT SARATOGA 

In the foothills of the Santa Cruz 
Mountains. The place for a home. Ideal 
climate and location. Quick transpor- 
tation to San Francisco and San Jose. 
Send for booklet. 

Saratoga Board of Trade, Saratogo mprovement Association 

Or any of the following: Charles E, Bell, Real 
Estate; Corpstein & Metzger, General Mdse.; Thos. E. 
Smith & Co., General Mdse.; D. Matteri, Lombards 
Hotel; B. Grant Taylor, Attorney at Law; E. C. Stam- 
per, Carpenter: H, P. Hanson, Blacksmith. 



BEAUTIFUL 

Brookdale 



In the heart of the 
mountains, yet close to 
ocean and city. Only a 
few miles from the Fre- 
mont Big Tree Grove and 
the State Sequoia Park. 

A village of lovely 
homes set among groves 
of redwood, bay, spruce, 
oak, madrono, and other 
trees. The purest water 
in the state can be piped 
into every home. No 
liquor selling, nor other 
objectionable business. 
Ideal for summer resi- 
dence, or for all-the-year 
homes. For illustrated 
descriptive pamphlet, write 
to 



BROORDALE LANDS COMPANY 

BrooKdale. Santa Crviz County, California 




Hummel Bros. & Co., "Help Center." 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 




Colonist 
Rates 



From the East to California dur- 
ing September and October 

From Chicago. $38.00. St. Louis, $35.50 

From Omaha, $30.00, Kansas City, $30.00 

Other points at equally low rates. Money for fare can 
be deposited here and ticket will be furnished 
friends in the East. 




SoMtKern Pacific 

Flood Building, San Francisco, Cal. 
600 South Spring Street, cor. of Sixth, Los Angeles, Cal. 




Through the Land of the Cotton 
and the Cane 



VIA 



New Orleans to the East 

Choice of Rail or Steamer. New Orleans to 
New York. A delightful break in your journey 
viewing the quaint Crescent City. 




Cr^i^^y 



l^oMtKern Pacific 

Flood Building, San Francisco, Cal. 
600 S. Spring Street, Cor. Sixth, Los Angeles, Cal. 



■i»MtfH^B«W^ 



16th National 



Irrigation 



Congress 



Albuquerque, N. M. 



Sept. 29 to 
Oct. 3, 1908 



Get New 
Folder 




Round Trip Rates from 
Principal Stations 

San Francisco .... MO.OO 

Oakland 40 00 

Stockton 40.00 

Fresno 37.25 

Los Angeles 30.00 

San Diego 30.00 

Needles 23.15 

Ashfork 16.10 

Flagstaff 13.80 

Williams 15.15 

OUier points proportionately low 



Q From points m California, sale dates Sept. 23 
to 27 inclusive. Final Limit, Oct. 31, 1908. Stop- 
over allov^ed on going trip within six days, except 
in California. Stopwver at any point returning. 



Get» Our New Irrigation Folder 



Call on any Santa Fe a^ent or address 
JNO. J. BYRNE. A. P. T. M. Los Angeles 



SUMMER 
VACATIONS 




TKat's -wHat we all >vant, 
and if yoxx get yo\irs tKe 
most important question 
will be— WHERE? 

GRAND CANYON 

OF ARIZONA 



^ ML 


dt 


nl 










HP 


^***7^ fi M ii 


HP*" "^ 


&*fc^ 


r^ 


iliijiii - -^^f"™^^— ^- 


te^"*- 



"EL TOVAR", $200,000.00 HOTEL AT GRAND CANYON 



Offers more beautiful scenery, more quiet and 
rest here close to nature, and the expense is 
low compared to other first class resorts. The 
beautiful hotel "El Tovar" under "Harvey" 
management, is sure to please. ^ During the 
summer months, low rate round trip excursion 
tickets will be sold to the Grand Canyon. 



For complete information address any SANTA FE agent or 
JNO. J. BYRNE, Asst. Pass. Traffic Mgr., Los Angeles, Calif. 



IGiil National 

Irri g ation 

Congress 

Interstate Industrial Exposition 
and New Mexico Territorial Fair 

all at 

Albuquerque, N. M. 
SepL 29 to Oct. 10 

Come- and see the prosperous 
Santa Fe Southwest — where all the 
way from Colorado to California 
water is king. 

The U. S. Government is spending 
millions of dollars to get a perma- 
nent water supply for the semi-arid 
lands. 

It means millions of acres made 
tillable and fit for homes. 

A national event, worth crossing a 
continent to see. Foreign diplo- 
mats, Government Officials, noted 
irrigation experts and Captains of 
Industry will attend. 

A great exposition of Southwest 
farms, ranches, mines and indus- 
tries. Indians too and cowboys — 
U. S. Calvary. 

Round-trip rates to Albuquerque 

from San Francisco .... $40.00 

from Los Angeles 30.00 

from San Diego 30.00 

Attractive side-trips to 
U. S. Reclamation proj- 
ects and Grand Canyon 
of Arizona. 



0\ 



^ r 



J J. BYRNE.A.P.T. M., 

A.T. &S. F. Ry. System, 

Los Angeles, Cal. 

Ask for Irrigation Booklet. 



Rafei!m^)aWM;JiJ8!^^ 





%ife?Jii^a!v!«i^vi^A4fe ite.i>i.>av!:v^^^ 



.1 TJf^e jp- n^ "xj^i»> r'^ 



'» lie 11Q 17 o^^^^A e<. T'^i -hir^:^ cr\n 



Irrig'ated 

Farinnis 



OF FIVE ACRES 
AND UPWARDS 

in the Counties of 

Fresno and Merced 
California 

MILLER AND LUX 

Los Banost Merced County 
California 




Theslighest "feel" of the 
crank proves the perfection of ZEROLENE 
Auto Lubricating Oil. There is no carbon 
deposit to foul the cylinders and spark-plugs; 
no possibility of anything but perfect lubrica- 
tion in any gasoline engine, regardless of type. 

ZERDUNE 

Auto-Lubrlcating 00 

differs from allotheroilsinbeingnon-carboniz- 
ing, and in "working" with uniform cer- 
tainty under all conditions. ZEROLENE is 
the only oil with these characteristics, and is 
produced in only one place. 

Put np In eealed cans witli patent spont that cannot be 
refilled. Abo In barrels for garage trade. Sold by dealers 



SXAMOARn OII< CO!IIPAI«iV 

( I ncorpuraU-dJ 




Mathie.^^ 



RED RIBBON BEER 

CONFORMS to the PURE FOOD LAW 



'T^HE Mathie Brewing Company offer $1000 
for any one to prove that their beers in Purity and 
Quality are not the purest brewed. ^ Do you know 
that beer contains only about 3 J per cent of alcohol ? 
Beer is liquid bread — is the Germaui saying. Used 
moderately, beer is not an intoxiczmt and is the purest of 
populeur drinks. The best temperance drink is beer. 
Physicians prescribe beer for the weak as it makes strength. 
Beer ranks with milk as a blood and strength producer 
and contains little alcohol. ^ Our beers are sold in quarts 
and pints. Why not try a case ? 



Home Cx. 942 



TELEPHONES: 



Sunset East 66 




STYLE 

NEATNESS 
COMFORT 

THE IMPROVED 

BOSTON 
GARTER 

^■S The Name is stamped on 
every loop — Be sure it's there 



^^ 



C^ CUSf 



CUSHION 
BUTTON 



CLASP 



LIES FLAT TO THE LEG— NEVER 
SLIPS, TEARS, NOR UNFASTENS 

WORN ALL OVER THE WORLD 

Sample pair, SUk 50c., Cotton 25c. 
Mailed on receipt ol price. 

GEORGE FROST CO., Malcers 
Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 

INSIST ON HAVING THE GENUINE 
^^ REFUSE ALL SUBSTITUTES'^— 



"A Perfect Food'' 

BAKER'S Cocoa 

& CHOCOLATE 



Send for our new 
booklet "Good 
Words from Good 
Housekeepers" — 
mailed free, with 
copy of Choice 
Recipes. 

HIGHEST AWARDS IN 
EUROPE AND AMERICA 




50 



Walter Baker & Co., Ltd. 

Established 1780] DORCHESTER, MASS. 




To know me is 
to know all the 
goodness of Cali- 
fornia's fine, ripe 
tomatoes, put up 
with piquant 
spices. 

To know me is 
to like me. 



ISc and 25c bottles 

Sold by grocers 
everywhere 



BISHOP & COMPANY, Los Angeles, California 




The Sideboard and 
the Silver 

The sideboard shotild be stocked with 
the kind of silver that gives pleasure 
in its use and in its exhibition. 

This grade of silver plate bears the 
trade mark 

MROGERS BROS: 

It is the kind which stays in the fam- 
ily through generations and is appreci- 
ated equally for its wearing quality 
and for its beauty. If there is occasion 
to purchase silver for a new home or 
at the time of replenishing, and you 
would secure Stiver Plate thai IVcars, 
insist upon " 1847 ROGERS BROS. " 
Sold by leading dealers everywhere. 
Send for catalogue " W-39" showing | 
newest patterns. 

MERIDEN BRITANNIA CO., 
Merlden, Conn. 

(International Silver Co., Successor.) 
Meriden Silver Polish, the 
"Silver Polish that cleans." 




^^■tl^U^A 



IV CYrctCktM 



■1 ui/ O 



bTORER. 1908 The Artists' Paradise voi. xxix. No. 4 



OUTWE5T 



7 




MMI 




Copyriffht 1908. by Oat Wert Ma^razine Company 



OCEN 
AGO 



TS 
OPT 



LOS ANGELES 

tIT NCW HIGH ST 



SAN FRANCISCO 

13« FOURTH AVE. 




^2 



A 

YEAl 



MENNEN'S 

BORATED TALCUM 

TOILET POWDER 




"Baby's Best Friend" 

and Mamma's greatest comfort. Mennen's n-lieves and 
prevents Chafing, Sunburn, Prickly Heat and Chapping. 

For your protection the genuine is put up in non- 
refillable boxes— the "Box that Lox," with Mennen's 
face on top. Sold everywhere or by mail 25 cents. 
Sample free. 

Try Mennen's Violet (Borated) Talcum Toilet Powder — It 
has the scent of Fresh-cut Parma Violets. Sample Free. 

GERHARD MENNEN CO., Newarfc, N. J. 

Mennen's Sen Yang Toilet Powder, Oriental Odor ( No 
Mennen's Borated Skin Soap (blue wrapper) ( Samples 

Specially prepared for the nursery. 



GOVERNM[NT 



Irrigation now under con- 
struction inGlenn County. 
The cheapest Alfalfa and 
Orange land in California. 
The Central Irrigating 
Canal, the largest in Cah- 
f orni a now ready to furnish 
water to all. Our oranges 
are ripe one month earlier 
than southern California. 
^ Write for prospectus. 



W. £. GERMAIN 

p. O. Box 65 
Willows Glenn Co., California 




Lamb Chops 




Roast Beef and Mutton and all 
Joints, hot or cold, are given a 
delightful piquancy and flavor by adding 

LEA & PERRINS 

SAUCE 

THE ORIGINAL WORCESTERSHIRE 

It is an Ideal Sauce for Soups, Gravies, Stews, Fish, 
Cheese, Game and Salads. Leading Chefs and Cooks 
the world over report best results by its use. 

It Assists Digestion. John Duncan's Sons, Agents, N. V. 



Farms 



OF FIVE ACRES 
AND UPWARDS 

in the Counties of 

Fresno and Merced 
California 

MILLER AND LUX 

Los Banos, Merced County 
California 



[xclusive Men's Clothes 



Style, Quality, Fit. 

Lowest Prices 

Always 



The home of Hart, 
Schaffner & Marx 
Good Clothes :: :: 



CLOTHING COMPANY 
Cor. Spring & First Los Angeles 




Mathie#«« 



RED RIBBON BEER 

CONFORMS to the PURE FOOD LAW 



'T'HE Mathie Brewing Company offer $ 1 OOO 
for any one to prove that their beers in Purity and 
Quality are not the purest brewed. ^ Do you know 
that beer contains only about 3J per cent of alcohol ? 
Beer is liquid bread — is the German saying. Used 
moderately, beer is not an intoxicant and is the purest of 
popular drinks. TTie best temperance drink is beer. 
Physicians prescribe beer for the weak as it makes strength. 
Beer rauiks with milk as a blood and strength producer 
and contains little alcohol. ^ Our beers are sold in quarts 
and pints. Why not try a case ? 



Home Ex. 942 



TCLCPHONCSt 



Sunset East 66 



OUT Vv^EST 

A Iwlaga.2^ine of thie Old Pacific and tlie NeA?v 

CHAS. F. LUMMIS \ t,^-, 

CHARLES AMADON MOODY \ ^^^^^ors 
SHARLOT M. HALL, Associate Editor 



AlfOXO THE STOCKHOLDERS AND CONTRIBUTORS ARBt 



DAVID STARR JORDAN 

President of Stanford University 
FREDERICK STARR 

Chicago University 
THEODORE M. HITTELL 

The Historian of California 
MARY HALLOCK FOOTS 

Author of "The Led-Horse Claim," etc-. 
MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM 

Author of "Stories of the Foothills" 
GRACE ELLERY CHANNING 

Authop of "The Sister of a Saint," etc. 
ELLA HIGGINSON 

Author of "A Forest Orchid," etc. 
CHARLES WARREN STODDARD 

The Poet of the South Seas 
INA COOLBRITH 

Author of "Sons' from the Golden Gate," etc. 
EDWIN MARKHAM 

Author of "The Man with the Hoe" 
JOAQUIN MILLER 

The Poet of the Sierras 
BATTERMAN LINDSAY 
CHARLES FREDERICK HOLDER 

Author of "The Life of Agassiz," etc. 
CHAS. DWIGHT WILLARD- 



CONSTANCE GODDARD DU BOIS 

Author of "The Shield of the Fleur de Lis" 
WILLIAM E. SMYTHE 
Author of "The Conquest of Arid America." 

etc 
WILLIAM KEITH 

The Greatest Western Painter 
CHARLES A. KEELER 
GEO. PARKER WINSHIP 

The Historian of Coronado's Marches 
FREDERICK WEBB HODGE 

of the Smithsonian Institution, Washingrton 
GEO. HAMLIN FITCH 

Literary Editor S. F. Chronicle 
ALEX. P. HARMER 

CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON OILMAN 
Author of "In This Our World" 
CHAS. HOWARD SHINN 

Author of "The Story of the Mine," etc. 
T. S. VAN DYKE 

Author of "Rod and Gun in California," etc. 
MARY AUSTIN 

Author of "The Land of Little Rain " 
L MAYNARD DIXON 
ELIZABETH AND JOSEPH GRINNELL 

Authors of "Our Feathered Frlendu" 



Contents — October, 1908 

The Artist's Paradise, III., illustrated, by Chas. F. Lummis 241 

A Red Parasol in Mexico, illustrated serial, by J. Torrcy Connor 259 

Logan Berries and Their Originator, illustrated, by Virginia Garland 270 

Lotus, poem, by Martha H. Boles 273 

The Little House of Mary, poem, by Sharlot M. Hall 274 

The Enchanted Burro, story, by Chas. F. Lummis 275 

An Idyl of Bugville, story, by Charlton Lawrence Edholm 284 

The Sphinx of the Hills, story, by Raymond A. McConnell 301 

Admission Day Address, by John F. Davis ^ 308 

Southwest Society, Archaeological Institute of America 318 



Copyright 1909. Entered at the Los Angeles Postoffice as second-class matter. (See Publishers' Page> 



Bailey's Rubber Complexion 
Brushes *!!^ Massage Rollers 

Make, Ke«p and Restore Beauty in Nature's own way 




We flat-ended teeth 

with circular bitinK edKeu that remove dust caps, 
cleanse the skin in the bath, open the pores, and ffive 
new life to the whole body. Bailey'8 Rubber 
Bru.shes are all made this way. Mailed for price. 
Beware of imilaliom. At all dealers. 
Bailey 'h Rubber Complexion Brush . $ .fiO 

Bailey's Rubber Massaire Roller . . . .50 

Bailey's Bath and Shampoo Brush . .75 

Bailey's Rubber Bath and Flesh Brush . 1.50 

Bailey's Rubber Toilet Brush (small) . .25 

Bailey's Skia Food (larre jar) ... .50 

Bailey's 

Won't Slip 

TIP 

This tip won't slip on 
ANY SURFACE, on 
smooth ice, or mar the 
most hig-hly polished 
floor. Made in five 
sizes, internal diameter: 
No. 17, % in. : No. 18. % 
in.: No. 19, Ph in.; No. 
20, 1 in.; No. 21. V/b in. 
Mailed ui>on receipt of 
price, 30c. per pair. 
Agents wanted. 

100 Page Rubber Catalogue Free. 

C. J. BAILEY & CO.. 23 BoylaUn St.. BOSTON. Mass. 




FOR HEALTH, HAPPI- 
NESS AND A HOME 
COME TO 



Southern 
California 



Write for information 
iod illustrated printed 
matter, enclosing a 5 
cent stamp, to 



=THE= 



Qiamber of Commerce 

Los Angeles, Cal. 



... ADDRESS ..♦ 

G. W. McBRIDE 

Bradbury Bldg*^ 

LOS ANGELES, 
CALIF. 



For An Evening With 




Edmund Vance CooKr 
ON HIS 

TOUR OF 

CALIFORNIA 



For dates en route 
and in the Northwest, address 

11338 Mayfield Road, 

CLEVELAND, O. 



^be (Berman Savings 
anb Xoan Society 

526 California SU, San Francisco 

Guaranteed Capital . . $1,200,000.00 

Capital actually paid up in cash . $ 1 ,000,000.00 

Reserve and Contingent Funds . $ 1,453,983.62 

Depositsjune30. 1908 . . $34,474,554.23 

Total Assets . . . $37,055,263.31 



Remittance may be made by Draft. Post Office, or 
Wells, Fargo & Go's. Money Orders, or coin by Ex- 
press. 

Office Hours: 10 o'clock A. M. to 3 o'clock P. M., 
except Saturdays to 12 o'clock M. and Saturday eve- 
nings from 7 o'clock P. M. to 8 o'clock P. M., for 
receipt of deposits only. 

OFFICERS: President, N. Ohlandt; First Vice- 
President, Daniel Meyer; Second Vice-President, Emil 
Rohte; Cashier, A. H. R. Schmidt; Assistant Cashier, 
William Herrmann; Secretary, George Tourny; As- 
sistant Secretary, A. H. Muller; Goodfellow & Eells, 
General Attorneys. 

BOARD OF DIRECTORS: N. Ohlandt, Daniel 
Meyer, Emil Rohte, Ign. Steinhart, I. N. Walter, J. 
W. Van Bergen, F. Tillmann, jr., E. T. Kruse and W. 
S. Goodfellow. 

MISSION BRANCH, 2572 Mission Street, be- 
tween 21st and 22nd Street. For receipt and payment 
of Deposits only. 



Los Angeles Brewing Co/s 

Pure and Wholesome Beers 

ARE 

WELL nNOWN 

Contain Only 3}i % Alcohol 

Patronize Home Industry and help to build up "Cal- 
ifornia," which you can well afford to after 
having given our products a trial 

Draught and Bottled Beers 
The True Temperance Beverage 

Bohemian and Extra Pale Lager 

Malto, the $10,000 Beer 

(Bavarian Type Brew) 

MISSION MALT TONIC 

ALL ORDERS by mail or phone given prompt 
attention 



Home, Ex. 820 



PHONES 



Suniet Eatt 820 



Saint Vincent^ s College 

Los Angeles, California 
Boarding and Day ColleKe 
and High School 

Military Drill and Calisthenics a Feature. 
For Catalogue write the President. 

BE A DOCTOR OF MECHANO-THERAPY, the wonderful 

new system of healing. $3000 - $5000 a year. We teach you 
by mail. Greatly superior and more simple than Osteopathy. Au- 
thorized diplomas to graduates. Special tenp* now. Write today 
for Prospectus free. American College of Mechano-Thetapy, 
Dept. 409, 1 20- 1 22 Randolph Street, Chicago. 



KIDDER'S PASTILLES SS i^I W 

■■■■^^^^■■^■■■B DnigKi»ts. 35 cents. 
STO'WEIiIi & CO., Mfrs,, Charlestown, Mass. 




Strong Arms 

I^Ol* lC)c >ri stamps or coin 

1 will send as long as they last, one of my charts 
showing exercises that will quickly build up 
shoulders, arms, forearms and hands without 
apparatus. They are beautifully illustrated with 
twenty half-tone cuts. Regular price 25c. 

Prof. Anthor»y Barker 
710 Barker Bldg., 110 W. 42nd St..N. Y. City 



LEADING HOTELS of 
THE COAST 

HOTEL REDONDO, Redondo, Cal. 
18 miles from Los Angeles, at Redondo-by- 
the-sea. "The Queen of the Pacific." Open 
all the year; even climate. 

APARTMENTS, Los Angeles 
fully furnished, new, 3 rooms, gas, range, hot 
water, bath, telephone, $14.00 monthly. T. 
Wiesendanger, Room 311. 207 South Broadway, 
Los Angeles. 

HOTEL ORENA, 7th and Hope Streets. Best 
$1 a day hotel in'Los Angeles. 

HOTEL PLEASANTON 
Los Angeles, California 

New, modern, American plan family hotel, Hot 
and cold water, telephone, and steam heat in every 
room. Rates, $10.00 to $16.00 week. 
1 120 So. Grand Ave. E. R. PARMELEE 

HOTEL LA PINTORESCA 
Pasadena, California 

Elevation 1 000 feet ; accommodations the best ; table 
the finest ; an ideal place. 

HOTEL BREWSTER 
San Diego, California 

Corner Fourth and C Streets. 
C. B. DAGGETT, Manager 

HOTEL GREEN 
Pasadena, California 

California's grandest hotel. The mecca of America's 
select society. Accommodations for 800 guests. 

J. H. HOLMES, Manager 



Complete Set 
Sent to Your 
Home 
Free 



Jutt Sign •] 
Mail tl 
Coup< 

Nc 




Sent to Your Own Home Free 



Just send your name and address on coupon below, that is all you need to do to obtain 
the books. It does not cost one penny and as soon as your name and address is received 
a set of the World famous Library of Universal History will be sent to you prepaid. 

NEVER B^^O^^ >" the annals of the 
I-ilX publishing business have we seen 
such a bargain. We do not hesitate to recommend this 
offer to every reader of this maRazine; indeed we be- 
lieve every family should own a standard World History, 
for by knowing: how other countries than ours are gov- 
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us better citizens. 

We will be glad to give you an opportunity to see for 
yourself and make your own decision after you have 
seen the beautiful binding, the magnificent illustrations 
and have read parts of this great History of man on 
earth. Then you can decide. Should you not wish to 
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The iUiutration of the books given here does not do 
them justice; you must see them to realize what they 
are. You assume no obligation to us or any one else by 
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our expense, and remember, too, this bankrupt rock- 
bottom price of $28.50 for this $60 Library has been made 
possible only on account of the failure of the Union 
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which barely covers the cost of the paper and binding. 



U p" R p* '* the greatest opportunity ever 
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This offer is made possible by the failure of the pub- 
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Prof. 0«or(« rallows. of Indians, says : "Host histories of the 
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Copyrifirht by Chas. F. Lummis 

"Through Ancient Portals to Enchanted Ivandscapes" 
The So called Gran Quivira (observe carvirg ou lintel) 



THE NATION BACK OF US THC WORLD IN FRO-vT 



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Vol. XXIX No. f^, -S«*TEW^&E«. I908 

^TUH ARTISTS' PARADISE— III 

By CHAS. F. LUMMIS. 
E BEGINS to be forgotten now ; in the avalanche of 
books one had better not read. But the judicious will 
remember him. As he was one of the first American 
travelers competent to write of what he saw, so to this 
day he remains at least Among the First. Amid the 
multitude of books (such as they are) about travel (such as it is) 
multiplied by the ease of going and the ease of printing — it is doubt- 
ful if any one yet has surpassed that ripe and wholesome traveler. 
Bayard Taylor. He was Fit to travel. He had the mental bag- 
gage for anywhere. He had also the capacity to "declare" in the 
custom-house of thought the thing he brought back with him. There 
was nothing spectacular about him ; no playing to an audience ; no 
striving for sensation. He carried with him enough real education 
to absorb the Larger Fact wherever he went. He had that ripe 
tolerance which comes partly by temperament and largely by knowl- 
edge. For these reasons, perhaps, he is nowadays a little old- 
fashioned — in his time it took longer to get anywhere, and much 
longer to get a hearing. 

It is half a century since this first .American traveler studied Cali- 
fornia. He was the first student to take that philosophic view 
which is the foundation of prophecy. The world was writing of 
California in those days — and many able pens were enlisted. But 
Taylor was the most literary, the most detached, the broadest — and 
therefore the most prophetic. Here is a little of what he said — 
after summing up the obvious facts in a way which shows tliat he 
was far more profound than even his best contemporaries: 

"The influence of the climate has already made its impressions on the char- 
acter of the people. . . The children of California are certainly a great 
improvement on those horn among us. . . Strong-hmbed, red-blooded, 
graceful, and as full of happy animal life as young fawns. . . For myself 
.... in wandering through the land ... I could not but feel that 
Nature must be false to her promise, or man is not the splendid creature he 

COPTRiOHT 1008 BY Out Wear MAQAZfNC Co All RiOHTm RoEnvKD 




A"QuERES Maiden 



Copyright 1890 by Chas . F. Lummis 



THE ARTIST'S PARADISE 



243 




A Camfoknia Hov of 21 

once was, if the art and literature and philosophy of ancient Greece are not 
one day rivaled on this last of inhabited shores." 

"The result, I hope, will be as favorable to their moral as it undoubtedly 
will be to their physical nature. If this should be so . . . there will at 
last be a happy American-born race." 

This applies to the whole Southwest. California is the cream, but 
the Southwest is, beyond question, the theater in which for the first 
time an English-speaking race has opportunity to repeat the glories 
of classic days — the art, the music, the literature and the life of 
ancient Greece and Palestine and Italy. Every scholarly traveler 
who has searched this land has felt more or less of this great truth ; 



THE ARTIST'S PARADISE 249 

has more or less been stirred by the artistic riches of this region, 
by the Hterary suggestiveness of it, and by its marvelous promise 
to the race in the mere way of living. On the latter point, the testi- 
mony is strongest — for the potentialities in this line are more 
obvious. In climate, in orography, in coast line, there is a marvelous 
resemblance here to the climes which have cradled the world's great- 
est art, its greatest religion ; its greatest literature ; its highest of 
physical and intellectual development. It was not an accident that 
Greece established the record for all time. That modern Greece 
has not the same influence upon the world's life, art and thought, is 
due not to clin^atic or geographical changes, but to the political sub- 
merging of Greece. For certain reasons, other lands have out- 
stripped in the world's activities this birthplace of the lasting stand- 
ards. But the attraction of gravitation is still true. Environment 
of a certain kind works on the human raw-material despite our mod- 
ern sophistication. People nowadays are less easy to be shaped by 
the lathe of evolution than simpler humans ; but that lathe still turns, 
and forever shall ; and all that comes upon it shall be shaped more 
or less "according." It is extremely easy for us, nowadays, to look 
on art as a sickly or at least as a semi-invalid profession. We look 
with a certain suspicion upon an artist of heroic mould and serene 
health. It seems much more reasonable to find him rather aniemic, 
pallid and nervously hypertrophied. But we all know, who have a 
vestige of common sense, that this "doesn't go with the job." If 
anyone ought to be healthy and sane, it should be the artist — for 
here is a human expression of the best that we can see in life ; and 
the best that we can see is not the hospital with dyspepsia nor nervous 
prostration. Here, in its various forms, is the expression of the 
Joy of Life. Art is not only to picture, but to increase, that joy. 
It is not a sickly counterfeit of a morbid dream of what might have 
been ; but a vivid and stimulating reflection of what ought to be, 
and has been, and what shall be again. It is not merely a record — 
it is an inspiration. 

The very basis of any vital Art is good health. Artists and the 
artistic may persist for generations, even for centuries, under some 
social upas, or in the cellar, or under any other unfavorable condi- 
tion. But real Art in its permanence goes with life, and life goes 
with fresh air, and sunshine, and flowers, and the enjoyment of 
all of them. 

If there is a place on the earth where the old Greek Joy of Living 
might come back to life — and shall come back to life — it is in the 
Southwest. The skies, the mountains, the sea ; the outdoors, the 
freedom of nature, are all ours. And the example of those before 
us, proves that these things are available still. It might be pardon- 
able in any other people to live the foolish dolly life ; but it is abso- 



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Spinning in the Sun— A Tigua Cwjtho 




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THE ARTISTS PARADISE 



253 




A TiGUA Councillor 

lately not gospel for folks that dwell in a land which for so many 
iiistoric centuries, and for so many centuries before history began, 
was full of decent and reasonable joy — and a land which is still 
so ripe to make us happy and strong if we will let it. 

The million square miles of the Southwest was as happy a country 
as the sun ever shone on. The same country, the same skies are 
here. Our children are getting, on the average, to a physical per- 
fection we never dreamed of. They have an average of health, of 
size, of weight, of freedom from disease, absolutely strange to any 
other English-speaking community. It is not only an easy prophecy 
— it is a prophecy that must surely come true — that in time Califor- 
nia and the Southwest shall develop a breed of Americans who shall 



254 



OUT WESl 



realize Bayard Taylor's dream of being "happy though American." 
If they are happy because well, and well and happy enough to learn 
from their environment, his other dream as to the development of 
an art and literature to rival that standard which the world still 
follows, and has never bettered, will also come true. 

Those who remember the Southwest of a quarter of a century ago 
— and the good times of it ; the hospitality, the gentleness, the simpler 
fun ;" the broad humanity of it — might easily be discouraged at 
the way it is apparently distrained nowadays by civilization-from- 
else where. But the God who made Greece and California is 
stronger than the fashions, or the strangers ; and He has common 
sense, and is more persistent than He sometimes looks to be. Though 




Among the Prehistoric Cave-Homes carved 
FROM Creamy Tufa 

it often seems easier to be a paper doll, it is not easier in the long 
run. Just as the children of the slums are still children, so grown 
humans, even in civilization, will go back to humanity whenever 
they have a chance. The Southwest is the chance. 

This is not straying from the text of the Artist's Paradise. We 
shall have to live if we are going to have Art. The more happily 
we live, the better art we shall have, in proportion to our abilities. 
Happiness lies largely in ourselves, for the near generation — but in 
the house of heredity we must have some countenance of our eye- 
sight. Even a sane climate, with nothing to look at, cannot in the 
long procession of time breed artists. They need something to 
look at. 

But God has been good to the Southwest. He built it to make 














C,Ri:v RriNS Far Vi> in thk Tack oi" Clii-i's 



256 CUT W EST 

well people — and to keep them interested. Likewise, no doubt, to 
interest every one, whether well or not. And this is proved not 
only by the landscapes, which have no peer ; not only by the meteor- 
ology, which has few comparisons known to human experience — 
but by the ancient humans who have been at school long enough 
to prove to more favored pupils what the conditions really mean. 

And the lesson goes so far back ! It is not merely of the races we 
see to-day, and might learn from more than we do — but far into 
the antiquities, the gospel runs ; obvious and inevitable if you pursue 
it. Here are scores of peoples — distinct ethnically, and often not 
only distinct, but hostile — all enjoying life after a fashion which is 
a Lesson. There are the visible impressive monuments of their 
predecessors for a thousand years — and while we know less of them 
than science would like ; while their linguistic descent is still a 
matter of quarrel, we do know by their very monuments that they 
enjoyed life. The gray ruins that dot a million square miles are 
eloquent of successful lives. There is not a millionaire recorded 
among them. But no one can study these immemorial ruins with- 
out seeing at the very first flush that these people knew what they 
were living for, and how to get it — and that they did get it. Whether 
it be the wonderful cave-dwellings of Cochiti ; or the castellated ruins 
of those historic first Americans that built six-story stone towns in 
the face of the cliff ; or their descendants whose adobe buildings are 
the most artistic now occupied in America (because most germane 
to the soil, from which they were dug) ; or any other of the monu- 
ments of the life that was good in America before Columbus was 
born ; or the monuments of the first European invasion — and those 
who think that "America has no ruins" might safely be let ofif not 
with the one-thousand-year works of the Cliff-Dwellers, but with 
the noble architecture that remains to us, built by Caucasians 1500 
miles inland by the time the first permanent English colony was 
founded in the "western half of the world — all fulfilled their function. 

There has never been anything in all the world's history like the 
Southwest — for everything that ever was or ever shall be in the 
world's history is represented here. Here is the most American 
experiment — and here the greatest American antiquity. When you 
are tired of studying a state which is "doing the American trick" 
faster than any other ever did it, you can go forth and study what 
was doing before there was a city in America — and few studies are 
more stimulating, and few more calculated to make us humble 
The ingenuities of the first Americans are study enough for a life 
time. But it is no less impressive to look through ancient portals to 
enchanted landscapes, and realize what Europeans were doing over 
here, three centuries ago. Perhaps most impressive of all, is to 
observe how bravely some people still manage to live in this wonder- 
ful area. It is just as well not to think at the same time how little 
attention is paid to these things by those that should first be awake 
to them. Hundreds of times I have ridden through that thousand- 
mile wonder-panorama of the Santa Fe across New Mexico and 
Arizona, but it is still fresh and beautiful and ever with something 
new. And nothing is so strange as to see sleek, prosperous trav- 
elers, with faces that look intelligent, draw down their Pullman 
blinds lest they see something of this magic wayside, and bury their 
minds in the stale dust of a novel. 




Copyright 18«8 by Ohaa. F. Lummi> 

A Crucifixion of the Penitentks 




259 
A RED PARASOL IN MUXICO 

By J. TORREY CONNOR 
XI. 
A Misunderstanding. 
N THE tierra calicnte the oranges were ripening on the 
bough, and the red berries of the coffee-tree gleamed 
like jewels and the bright green foliage. Here swung 
ii^l in the shadow of sail-like leaves the great, purple 
flower-buds of the banana — harbingers of a future 
harvest; and here the pomegranate turned its glowing cheek to the 
sun. 

A fussy little engine, with a train of cars in tow, ran shrieking 
on its course, past sunny slopes checkered with patches of banana 
plants set thickly as protection to tender young coffee-trees ; past 
stretches of uncleared land wooded with laurel, mangrove, mag- 
nolia, myrtle and palm ; and through forests rich in mahogany, 
rosewood, ebony, cedar and oak. The magnificent growths were 
swathed in blossoming vines, and from every branch depended 
orchids of gorgeous hues and varied forms. 

At intervals the engine stopped, with a cough and a wheeze, 
at some little settlement — a score of native huts, a fonda and the 
general supply store, nestling in the shadow of the forest. During 
one of these stops, while the engine was taking water. Aunt 
Zenia accompanied by Doctor Bolton alighted from the train for 
a brief constitutional. The professor and Mr. Cook — who had 
been weighed and found worthy of admittance to the Lost City 
Syndicate — engaged in a heated discussion as to the relative 
merits of hardtack and cake-chocolate on long journeys remote 
from the source of supplies, were oblivious to their surroundings. 

"Look at the parrot on the ridge-pole," Zitella suddenly cried, 
to Polly. "Isn't this scene just too theatrically palm-y and pic- 
turesque for anything?"' 

"It takes me back to geography days," said Polly. "There were 
a palm and a parrot on the thirtieth page. I always thought they 
should have been mentioned in the list of Mexican products." 

The train, after the manner of Mexican trains, started without 
warning. 

"That's the second hair-breadth escape I've had !" gasped Aunt 
Zenia, as Doctor P)olton dragged her into the car. 

"It will be the last," said Polly, laughing, "for we get off at 
the next stopping place." 

It was two o'clock when the party left the train at the way 
station, where they were met by Angel Jiminez. 

"I place my house and all it contains at your disposal," he said, 



:260 OUT WEST 

bowing low before the ladies. "My house," he naively continued, 
"is in Mexico City." 

"So that's the chap who followed us about," said Aunt Zenia 
to Polly. "I had never had a real good look at him before. I 
wonder what he would think if he knew that I had taken him for 
a government spy, bent on preventing John from making archaeo- 
logical investigations. You were a neighbor of ours in Mexico 
City, I believe," she added, turning to Angel. 

The eyes of the Sefior Jiminez were as a babe's for innocence. 

"You have a friend of yours, it may be, who is much resemble 
to me," he suggested. "You think you remember you — how you 
say it in English? — the friend when you see me? No?" 

"Where's Peter — er — Mr. Yeere?" Zitella questioned, her 
glance wandering past Angel Jiminez to the waiting mozos, who had 
brought in the saddle horses for the party. 

"Peter !" burst simultaneously from Aunt Zenia, Polly, the pro- 
fessor, Doctor Bolton and Mr. Cook. 

"And Mr. Weston?" Zitella further questioned. 

"Mr. Weston !" chanted the Greek Chorus. 

"They would have come to welcome their so-kind friends, but 
already there are no more horse," Angel explained. 

"Just my luck!" grumbled the professor. "I might have known 
that Weston would have the ground-plans and specifications of 
the mound, and that he would be on the spot when I arrived." 

They mounted and set out on their ten-mile ride. A short dis- 
tance below the station they left the road for a bridle path ; and 
the forest, dim, cool, closed about them. 

Polly, her heart in a tumult at the thought of the approaching 
meeting with Lowell Weston, had no eyes for the beauty of flick- 
ering leaf-shadows, of garlanding vines, of gorgeous colors and 
cloying tropical odors. She was wondering how Lowell would 
greet her, and what she should say ; and then, like a cloud between 
her and anticipated happiness, came remembrance. He did not 
know that she was free ! 

"Look at that cheeky Mexican!" Mr. Cook was saying to the 
professor. 

The Seiior Jiminez was occupied in the making of a cigarette, 
which he rolled with a dexterous thumb- and forefinger. He rode 
well within range of the smiles of pretty Zitella ; and the eyes 
that had cast many a languishing glance in Polly's direction never 
left Miss Cook's dimpling face. By the jauntiness of his attitude — 
elbows out, and sombrero rakishly aslant — it was patent that Don 
Angel was plumed afresh for conquest. 

"Not for my daughter," Mr. Cook stated. "It's got to be an 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 



261 



American, and good, straight American, if I sign a will in their 
favor and say, 'God bless you, my children !' " 

"You couldn't do better than Weston," the professor recom- 
mended, having an eye, doubtless, to the removal of his rival from 
the archaeological field. 

Aunt Zenia and Doctor Bolton for obvious reasons kept to the 
rear of the procession. The doctor, firmly grasping the pommel 
of the high saddle, assumed an ease which he did not feel. 

"Did I understand you to say that you had traveled in Mexico?" 
Aunt Zenia asked. 




Angel Jiminez 

"Yes," Doctor Bolton replied. "I'm p-pretty well acquainted 
with the c-c-c- with the coast." 

"What impressed you most on your former visit to the country ?" 
Aunt Zenia pursued, with a view to making conversation. 

"The f-fleas, flowers, f-fruits and the f-f-f- the facilities for 
b-bathing," the doctor set forth. 

"Ah, fine public baths, I presume," Aunt Zenia hazarded. 

"A p-p-p- a public bath!'' the doctor sputtered. No! It w-was 
t-two kerosene c-c-cans, and my traveling companion and I p-poured 
the w-w-water over each other. The Guatemala t-t-trip will be 
as b-barren of c-c-c- of comforts — you must realize t-that." 



262 



OUT WEST 



"Polly and I had no intention of accompanying the professor 
beyond Frontera." 

"You are a w-woman of s-sense/' said the doctor, "and b-being 
such, would not c-court dangers, n-nor unnecessarily hamper t-t-the 
movements of t-t-the expedition. My m-m-m- my mind is greatly 
relieved.'' 

It was dusk when the party reached the ranch house. Mr. 
Jones welcomed them in booming tones that could be heard in 
the peones' quarters, a half mile away. 

The professor immediately demanded to know all about the 
mound, and the earliest possible moment that it could be seen ; 




A Native SETTi,iiMENT 

and the host informed him that Mr. Weston already had arranged 
a trip for the following morning. 

The mound was the chief topic of conversation at the supper 
table. Mr. Jones related the strange mishap that had befallen a 
peon on the hacienda. In a spirit of bravado he had struck the 
figure surmounting the mound with a crow-bar. 

"Got paralysis in th' right arm," he concluded, "an' every work- 
man on th' place b'lieves th' god did it to him." 

Weston looked at Polly with eyes that seemed to say : 

"What have these things to do with nsf" But Polly shyly avoided 
his glance. 

Peter sent a smile to Zitella. 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 



263 



"Come into the garden, Maud," he said in an undertone. 
"There's going to be a moon." 

Early in the morning the horses were brought to the door. 

"I want to ride at the head of the procession," cried Aunt Zenia. 

With the help of their host and the doctor she was seated upon 
the high Mexican saddle. Polly and the host reined their mounts 
alongside, and followed by the others swept down the road. When 
they reached the peones' quarters, Mr. Jones ordered a man to 
precede theiu and clear a road through the underbrush with his 
machete... This was necessary, as their way lay across fields, har- 




"Nestling in the Shadow" 

vested of their crop of corn, but already covered with a wild growth. 
Into the bush rode Pedro; and leaning over his saddle-bow he 
slashed right and left at the creepers that bound shrub to shrub, 
tree to tree in a network of green. 

The party soon arrived at the mound, and Pedro was dispatched 
to a neighboring field to summon the men who were working there. 

"Now, if this 'ere should turn out to be a reg'lar gold mine," 
said the old man, with a twinkle in his eyes, "Pm to have a share 
on't, remember." 

But the professor, oblivious to his host's pleasantries, was work- 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 265 

ing his way through the tall grass and underbrush to get a better 
view of the figure on the mound. 

It sat on its rude pyramid of stones as if the centuries that had 
come and gone since the granite block was hewn into shape were 
but days — no line of the grotesque carving blurred, nothing marred 
save the right arm of the god, which had been wantonly shattered 
by the crow-bar in the hand of the peon. 

The professor was in a fever of excitement. What secrets did 
this strange figure, with the seal of eternal silence upon its lips, 
guard so faithfully? 

"Tell the men to come lip and begin work here," he called to 
the group below. 

But the men, who had appeared armed with various implements 
of labor, hung back. There was a parley. Angel acting as spokes- 
man ; and then Mr. Jones slowly climbed the steep ascent to the 
mound. 

"It's jes' this way," he began, awkwardly ; "th' men won't touch 
th' mound on no account, neither fer bribes or threats. I s'pose 
I could stand over 'em with a shotgun, but you see, th' coffee-pickin' 
season has commenced, an' if they're made to tackle a job they're 
jes' nachally afraid to tackle, there'll be th' devil to pay an' I can't 
get a stroke of work out of 'em for weeks, like's not. Now, I'm 
ready to do anythin' on earth to oblige you all — anythin' within 
reason, that is. You see how 'twould be yourself — the beggars 
sulkin' 'round, an' my coflfee crop goin' to wrack an' ruin. Couldn't 
you content yourselves with a good look at his nibs, up here, an' 
let it go at that?" 

"Why should they be afraid to explore the mound?" Weston 
asked. 

"Well," apologetically, "th' feller that has a paralyzed arm is 
down thar 'mongst th' men, an' they haven't fergot what hap- 
pened to him!" 

"Stuff and nonsense!" shrilled Aunt Zenia. "Give me a pick- 
axe. I don't intend to leave this spot until I know what is inside 
the mound." 

The host returned to the group waiting below. There was fur- 
ther parley, which Weston, in his impatience, suddenly interrupted : 

"What is all the fuss about?" he questioned of Angel. 

"I will explanation myself — *' Angel began. But the old man 
waved his step)-son aside. 

"It can't be done. Th' men'll neither get in an' dig. or let us dig." 

Weston caught up a pickaxe with a derisive laugh ; but before 
he could advance a step he was hemmed in by a circle of scowling 
peones. 



266 



OUT WEST 



"y^ooks as if I'd put my foot in it," he observed to Peter, ad- 
dressing^ him over the head of the nearest peon! 

Polly's face went white and her hands trembled. 

"You'd better take it out again," Peter advised. 

Angel interposed, and with a volley of imprecations scattered the 
circle that surrounded Weston, and drove the sullen peones back. 

"Vayanse a todos los demonios, sin-verguensas!" he shouted, lay- 
ing about him vigorously with his riding whip. 

The "shameless ones" did not immediately obey his commands to 




The Man Behind the Plough 

"go to all the devils." They withdrew a short distance, and stood 
with lowering faces, watching the party. 

"What's to be done now ?" asked Weston. 

The professor graciously made a virtue of necessity. 

"I don't see as there is anything to do but to go back to the house 
and have lunch," he gave out. 

The host's face cleared. 

"Come down sometime when th' coffe-pickin' season is over, an' 
we'll get at th' insides o' th' stun pile 'er know th' reason why," he 
said with great cordiality, as they left the scene of their defeat. 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 



267 



Aunt Zenia, the professor and Weston rode back together. They 
were deep in conversation when they reached the ranch-house. 

"The trip is no walk-over," Weston was saying. "When you 
hit the trail — if you conclude to go — you'll find there are mountains 
to be crossed and streams to be forded. You spend days in the 
saddle, and days in an Indian dug-out. The cockroaches, fleas, 
rodedores and other pests of the ticrra calicntc eat you alive, and — " 

"The revolutionists are up and doing." Weston warned. 

"I received a letter just before I left the City of Mexico," said 




CoFFEK Drying in the Sun 



"The Standford 
in Kalamazoo — 



the professor, apropos of nothing in particular. 
Expedition — they were organizing when I was 
sails from New York for Egypt next month." 

"And you wish to join it? Confess, John, that you do. You will 
give up this other wild scheme — you must not risk your valuable 
life." 

Weston was holding the door open for Aunt Zenia and the pro- 
fessor to pass through. On the threshold the professor turned, and 
— let it recorded as the savant's sole departure from ways sedate — 
delivered himself of a portentous wink. 



268 OUT WEST 

At the rear of the ranch-house ran a Httle rio that came dancing 
down from the hills. Water-beech and eucalypti drooped above the 
washing stones where, on certain dedicated days, the family linen 
was cleansed. Today the place was deserted. After luncheon, 
Polly, feeling decidedly out of it all as she watched Zitella and 
Peter disappear in one direction, while Aunt Zenia and Doctor 
Bolton made off in another, wandered down to the stream and, seat- 
ing herself on a stone, mused dolefully. 

Lowell did not love her — never had loved her. She had been 
mistaken in thinking otherwise. Perhaps he had forgotten that 
which her pride bade her, too, forget. Well, she zvould forget. The 
white teeth bit into the red lower lip, and the tear that trembled on 
the thick brown lashes was not suffered to fall. 

Now, as it transpired, Weston was writing letters in a room which 
afforded an uninterrupted view of the grounds to the rear. 

"I shall of course abandon my trip to Guatemala," he informed his friend, 
the curator, "as the country is at present in a state of revolution. I shall go 
back to the City of Mexico and bring to a conclusion my investigation of the 
location of the teocalli. I am confident that I shall be able to prove that the 
cathedral does not stand on the site of the heathen temple. 

"We are told that the soldiers of Cortez were instructed to remove from 
the natives' sight the appurtenances of their worship ; but it by no means fol- 
lows that they transported that massive monument, stone by stone, any dis- 
tance. The huge monoliths, the Calendar Stone, the Sacrificial Stone, the 
Indio Triste — " 

The pen hung idle in his fingers. A trill of gay laughter floated 
through the window, and mingled with it there sounded a deeper 
masculine note. 

He pushed the papers — suddenly grown dry and uninteresting — 
away from him. Out there in the world men lived. Out there 
were light, and laughter, and love. Out there was Pauline — Pauline 
who was not for him. He had contented himself with crusts, while 
another, wiser than he, quaffed of the very wine of Hfe. 

Weston got up to close the window ; he would shut out the 
laughter, as he fain would shut out memories of what might have 
been. But his hand was stayed, and into his brooding eyes swift 
anger flashed. 

Under the low-hanging branches of a flowering oleander, hidden 
from all eyes save his, stood Peter and Zitella. It was Zitella's 
laugh he had heard, not Polly's. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said Zitella, gazing at the sun-drenched land- 
scape, above which clouds of gold and silver lightly drifted. "Looks 
like fairyland. I'd be perfectly content to live here forever, 'the 
world forgetting, by the world — ' " 

"Let's !" Peter enthusiastically seconded. "When I think how 
happy I'd be if I had a million," he went on, "I almost — al-most 
wish someone would die off and leave me a pot of money. Do you 
ever have similar yearnings for the unattainable, Zitella? And 
what assets have you in the way of rich relatives with a foot or so 
in the grave?" 

"You are quite frank about it," observed Zitella. "Would you 
like to know how much parent is worth ?" 

"Heavens! Are you, too, of the Gilded Rich? Well, I don't in- 
tend to let a paltry million or so come between me and happiness. 
Zitella, will you marry me?" 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 



269 



"Peter," said Zitella, standing a-tiptoe tlie better to adjust the 
pink oleander blossoms that swung coquettishly from the young 
gentleman's ears, "I can put up with your red hair and the temper 
that is sure to go with it ; but how any self-respecting girl can allow 
herself to be known as Mrs. Peter Yeere — " 

"Give me a baker's dozen of kisses," commanded the owner of the 
red hair and the objectionable name. "Nothing less than a baker's 
dozen, with your arms tight 'round my neck — so! Now! One, 
two — " 

Wild with grief, shame, and hot indignation, Lowell rushed from 
the room. That this should have come to her — Pauline! What 
should he do — what could he do? 

With an idea of confronting and denovmcing Peter, he made his 




At thk Fountain 

way into the garden ; but Fate interposed. A wa'ndering breeze, 
passing by the washing stones under the water beeches, fluttered a 
fold of a well-remembered pink gown. Weston covered the ground 
that lay between with long-legged strides. 

" "Miss Staines," he said, looking down on a surprised and 
somewhat disfigured Polly — the tears would come after all — "my 
cousin — Miss Zitella — You must give Peter up. He — he — isn't 
worthy — Oh, how can I tell you ?" 

"Has she accepted him?'' asked Polly, eagerly. "I hope — I hope 
she isn't playing with him! Has she accepted him, Mr. Weston?" 

There was room on the stone for one more. Weston, dimly rec- 
ognizmg this, sank limply down beside Polly. 

[To be concluded.] 



270 




LOGAN BERRIEIS AND THEIR ORIGINATOR 

By VIRGIANIA GARLAND 
|F THE millions of persons who season after season enjoy 
the toothsome lusciousness of the Logan berries (there 
are three of them — the Logan-berry proper, or Red 
Blackberry, the Mammoth Blackberry, and the Logan 
Blackberry), not one in ten thousand could name their 
origin. They are not to be credited, as is often supposed, to Luther 
Burbank, nor were they named for General "Black Jack"' Logan. 
Theit origin is more interesting from the fact that they are the 
horticultural triumphs of a man of many interests and successes who 
turned to his garden for rest and recreation in the midst of the 
duties of a busy life. 




James H. L/OGan 



THE LOGAN BERRIES AND THEIR ORIGINATOR 271 

James H. Logan, at that time Judge in the Superior Court of 
Santa Cruz County, in his botanical nurseries on the heights over- 
looking the town of Santa Cruz, gathered together trees and shrubs 
from many lands, including our own native plants, crossed and 
recrossed, tended and loved, finding in the quiet of his garden that 
simple vital companionship which fitted him to deal so ably with 
complex humanity in directness and justice. 

Widely as these three berries have been introduced and successful 
as they have proved, their originator has profited but slightly from 
them in money — some six hundred dollars, all told — but he has had 
his ample reward in watching their success and in knowing that 
by the propagation of these fine fruits he has rendered no slight 
service to myriads of his fellow beings, living and yet to live. For 
his unconscious philosophy is not self-seeking — his pleasure in the 
beautiful luscious fruits is from a humanitarian and artistic point of 
view, rather than a monetary. 

Coming to California in the sixties, the young man struggled 
with the fierce expediencies of those early days, found his standing 
among our strong pioneers, turned opportunity to gain, and gain at 
last into many different channels which aimed to reach and benefit 
his brother man. Throughout his fine and earnest life he has ever 
used his labor and his recreation alike to this same good account — 
re-creating for others. 

The little community of Brookdale, in the Santa Cruz mountains 
is a case in point. Years ago Judge Logan bought the large tract 
of timber-land upon which this village now stands, built good roads 
and secured the water-rights of one of the purest streams in Cali- 
fornia. Instead of stripping the land of its forest, which he might 
have done with far greater profit to his pocket, he preserved the 
beautiful woods intact for the pleasure and uplift of those whom he 
hoped to bring into the little village that was to be. They were 
not long in coming, quick to see the advantage of such a place, 
presided over by such a nature-lover. About three hundred have 
harbored here, and the rugged, kindly Judge is tacitly recognized 
by them all as the father of the picturesque village. 

So we see him bent over his vines on Logan Heights, enjoying the 
close communion of the soil, resting while he worked, hoping, plan- 
ning a more satisfactory berry than the world yet knew, not for his 
own aggrandizement, but because he believed the world needed and 
would delight in it. 

About the beginnings of this big red delicious Logan berry there 
is much of romance involved, if one can direct his imagination upon 
the life history of a berry — and why not? — finding in its story some 
happy conceit, in its fruiting some quickening conception of that 
interchange which plays through life in its every form. 



272 OUT WEST 

Here is the offspring of a gipsy bramble — the wild blackberry 
that trails its blossomy length, deepens its scarlet fruit to full black 
ripeness, winds its thorny autumn-painted pennons up and down 
the valleys and canoned hills of California. The other parent is the 
Red Antwerp — a large raspberry from Holland, overcultivated (let 
us say) and tired of its trim rows and all the horticultural conven- 
tions hedging it in. 

Long before these two vines met with good results, many had 
tried mating them together, but all effort in that direction had 
sigTially failed. The resultant berry had been of no value, acid 
and meagre, and a good fruiting from a blend of the two vines 
was universally believed to be impossible. Although Judge Logan 
never lost the hope of producing a large new hybrid, he too gave 
up trying to force the wild vine into a union it so plainly disdained, 
and turned his attention elsewhere, planting the Red Antwerp and 
the Texas Early blackberry in parallel rows, thinking it likely that 
these two would mingle. 

But across his acres the dark wanderer from the hills was allowed 
to roam at will in its own free natural way, weaving its matted 
brambles over hollow and path, flinging its long tendrils over an old 
stone wall, giving the quiet garden that half-wild charm which all 
felt who walked there, finding itself at last near the regular rows 
where the Red Antwerp grew staidly apace. 

What possessed these two plants to desire one another so heartily ' 
just at this time, after their heretofore forced and indifferent union, 
will never be known. One may fancy, however, some of the com- 
plex instincts which draw or repel all matings as animating the two 
vines. Perhaps the zest of jealousy — the Texas Early cHmbed in 
full view on the other side of the trellis. It may be that the gipsy 
berry, thus aroused to rivalry, yielded its heart to the bee-bought 
messages coming from the Red Antwerp, a-weary of its own kin, 
stirred to each fibril end by the untamed stranger. Who knows? 
I like to think how they were stimulated by the administering. spirit 
of the garden, who stepped aside so patiently, watching, waiting, 
knowing himself but a medium in the hands of Nature — and suc- 
ceeding where so many others, more determined in their assumption, 
had failed. At any rate, the resultant berry — enormously large, 
winey red, fragrant and rich, taking its color and foliage-form 
from the Antwerp, while its compact close-clinging berry was fla- 
vored full with the tang of the wilderness — left no doubt of the happy 
mingling of the two. Nature had brought them together this time, 
sanctioned their union, where man's fingering had been futile — and 
their progeny would endure. 

There is no magic, as the word is popularly understood of late, in 
working with natural laws, in re-forming by chance acquiescence 



LOTUS. ™„-^- -^ 273 



or conscious skill the earth's old, old essays in fresh and infinite 
variety. The miracle of bloom will come to its fruitage as unceas- 
ingly in far jungled wildernesses where no man has ventured as in 
some modern nursery under the keen eyes, the delicate manipulation, 
of the scientist. 

We are used, as the wind and the heat, the rain and all the winged 
and wild brotherhood, in vast reflex conception — man Building his 
dreams from the earth, earth working its spells upon man. Is it not 
the sunshine which often brings two human lovers together — a 
flower — a swinging bough — the lisp of waves, or the lightning bolt ? 
An old unsolvable necromancy this, in which man but plays his part. 
To limit, even in a measure, this controlling force into the capacity 
of a scientific brain is to limit the creative result, cut oflF the power of 
his labor, lessen its reach and its supreme significance. And the 
old earth goes on lavishly producing, with or without our conscious 
aid. We can but plant a little, tend a little, learn what we may 
through that real research which is always humble, gainsaying the 
self-laudatory credit which the uninitiated thrust upon those whose 
knowledge goes deep and far — leaving the magic and the mystery 
where it rightfully belongs. 

BrcK)kdale, Santa Cruz County. 



LOTUS 

By MARTHA H. BOLES. 

MERE I to cease the turbid stream's ascent 
Where other swimmers jostle ; where the drift, 
Cruel to bruise, slides past me, ever swift ; 
Where roar the waters; where my strength is spent 
In agonizing eflFort to prevent 
My sinking 'neath the flood — were I to stay 
Where skies are mirrored in a shallow bay. 
Beloved, it would be because you bent 
In wistful beauty, beckoning from the shore 
To fold me in your dreams forevermore. 
Your tenderness would calm me. I should be 
Drowsed in a strange, sweet, haunting melody, 
The balm and rhythm of quiet. Oh, perfect goal, 
YouT love unto my struggle-weary soul ! ! 
Minneapolis, Minn. 




274 

THE LITTLE HOUSE, OF MART 

By S HARLOT M. HALL. 
Throughout the desert region of the Southwest are abandoned mining 
camps — shafts caved, machinery silent and rusting away, sand drifted in the 
long-empty cabins. In one such deserted camp a child's playhouse was found 
beside a great boulder, the little toys and treasures undisturbed through all 
the years. 

J|HE hoof-worn pack-trails still wind down past barren cliff 
and ledge, 
And fail and fade like water spilled at the sage-gray 

desert's edge ; 
Lost in the shifting sand-banks, clear where the long 
dykes lift 
Their rough, brown, sun-burned shoulders out of the wind-blown 
drift. 

Like scars long healed the weed-grown dumps where the miners plied 

their craft; 
And the tuna drops its crimson fruit down the mouth of the caving 

shaft. 
A broken shovel, a worn-out pick ; and down in the gulch below 
A lean coyote homes her whelps where the stamps beat blow on blow. 

Where the tent-camp took its careless way to the rocky canon's 

brink. 
The plumed quail leads her covey, and the wild deer come to drink ; 
But then the mule-bells tinkled, and, proud of her rank and place. 
The old white bell-mare took the lead, setting the train its pace. 

And close by a gray-ribbed boulder, shading her eyes with her hands, 
Watching the ore-trains passing out to the unknown lands, 
A little, wistful figure, with dreaming, tender face. 
Like a flower from some old-time garden a-bloom in that rugged 
place. 

Child of the sun-white desert, no other land she knew ; 

Its cactus clumps were her richest green, its skies were her deepest 

blue; 
The shy, wild things were her playmates, and under the old cleft 

stone 
She builded a little kingdom for her and them alone. 

And here are her guarded treasures — quaint little shapes of clay. 
Fashioned by small brown fingers as she sang at her lonely play ; — 
But the dust lies thick upon them, and sand-drifts bar the door. 
And only a swift green lizard shimmers across the floor. 



THE ENCHANTED BURRO. 275 

Like memories worn too deep to lose, the pack-trails still wind down, 

Out past the old gray boulder and the ledges seamed and brown ; 

Till here they swerve a hand-width back, where once the rough cross 
stood. 

With a child's brief name and a child's scant years carved in the sun- 
bleached wood. 

The cross is fallen and crumbling; but still the wild quails call, 
As if they missed a comrade, through the sage brush thick and tall ; 
And where the love-vine tangles and the low wind croons at even, 
The little playhouse waits for her — for "Mary, aged seven." 
Dewey, Arizona. 




THE ENCHANTUD BURRO 

By CHAS. F. LUMMIS. 
ELO dropped the point of his heavy irrigating hoe and 
stood with chin dented upon the rude handle, looking 
intently to the east. Around his bare ankles the rill 
from the acequia eddied a moment and then sucked 
through the gap in the little ridge of earth which 
bounded the irrigating bed. The early sun was yellow as gold 
upon the crags of the mesa — that league-long front of ragged cliffs 
whose sandstones, black-capped by the lava of the immemorial Year 
of Fire, here wall the valley of the Rio Grande on the west. Where 
a spur of the frowning Kumai runs out is a little bay in the cliffs ; 
and here the outermost fields of Isleta were turning green with 
spring. The young wheat swayed and whispered to the water, 
whose scouts stole about amid the stalks, and came back and 
called their fellows forward, and spread hither and yon, till every 
green blade was drinking and the tide began to creep up the 
low boundaries at either side. Up at the sluice-gate a small 
but eager stream was tumbling from the big, placid ditch, and on it 
came till it struck the tiny dam which closed the furrow just 
beyond Lelo, and, turning, stole past him again to join the rest 
among the wheat. The irrigating bed, twenty feet square, filled 
and filled, and suddenly the gathered puddle broke down a barrier 
and came romping into the next bed without so much as saying 
"By your leave." And here it was not so friendly; for, forgetting 
that it had come only to bring a drink, it went stampeding about, 
knocking down the tender blades and half covering them with 
mud. At sound of this, Lelo seemed suddenly to waken, and 
lifting with his hoe the few clods which damned the furrow, he 
dropped them into the first gap, and jumping into the second bed 
repaired its barrier also with a few strokes. Then he let it in a 
gentle stream from the furrow. 



276 OUT WEST 

"Poco, and I should have lost a bed," he said to himself, good- 
naturedly. Bias always took things easy, and I presume that is 
the reason no one ever called him anything but Lelo — "Slow-poke" 
— for Indian boys are as given to nicknames as are any others, 
and the mote had stuck to him ever since its invention. He 
was rather slow — this big, powerful boy, with a round, heavy chin 
and a face less clear-cut than was common in the pueblo. Old 
Lipe had taken to wife a Navajo captive, and all could see that the 
boy carried upon his father's strong frame the flatter, more stolid 
features of his mother's nomad people. 

But now the face seemed not quite so heavy; for again he was 
looking toward the pueblo and bending his head as one who listens 
for a far whisper. There it came again — a faint, faint air which 
not one of us could have heard, but to this Indian boy it told of 
shouts and mingled wails. 

"What will be?" cried Lelo, stamping his hoe upon the barrier, 
and with unwonted fire in his eyes. "For surely I hear the voice 
of women lamenting, and there are men's shouts as in anger. Some- 
thing heavy it will be — and perhaps I am needed." Splashing up 
to the ditch he shut the gate and threw down his hoe, and a moment 
later was running toward Isleta with the long, heavy, tireless stride 
that was the jest of the other boys in the rabbit hunt, but left Lelo 
not so very far behind them after all. 

In the pueblo was, indeed, excitement enough. Little knots of the 
swart people stood here and there, talking earnestly but low ; in the 
broad, flat plaza were many hurrying to and fro; and in the street 
beyond was a great crowd about a house whence arose the long, 
wild wails of mourners. 

"What is. Ho Diego?" asked Lelo, stopping where a number 
of men stood in gloomy silence. "What has befallen? For even 
in the milpa I heard the cries, and came running to see." 

"It is ill," answered the old man he had addressed as uncle. 
"It seems that Those Above are angry with us ! For this morn- 
ing the captain of war finds himself dead in bed — and scalped! And 
no tracks of man were about his door." 

"Ay, all is ill!" groaned a short, heavy-set man, in a frayed 
blanket. "For yesterday, coming from the llano with my burro, I 
met a stranger — a hdrharo. And, blowing upon Paloma, he be- 
witched the poor beast so that it sprang off the trail and was 
killed at the bottom of the clifli. It lacked only that ! Last month 
it was the raid of the Cumanche ; and, though we followed and 
slew many of the robbers and got back many animals, yet mine 
were not found, and this was the very last that remained to me." 

"Pero, Don 'Colas !" cried Lelo, "your burro I saw this very 
morning as I went to the field before the sun. Paloma it was, 



THE ENCHANTED BURRO. 277 

with the white face and the white hind foot — for do I not know 
him well? He was passing through the bushes under the cliflfs at 
the point, and turned to look at me as if I crossed the field below." 

"Vaya!'' cried Nicolas angrily. "Did I not see him, with these 
eyes, jump the cliff of two hundred feet yesterday, and with these 
my hands feel him at the foot that he was dead? Go, with your 
stories of a stupid, for — " 

But here the alguazil, who was one of the group, interrupted: 
'*Lelo has no fool's eyes, and this thing shall I look into. Since 
this morning many things look suspicious. Come, show me where 
fell thy burro — for to me all these things are cousins, one to 
another." 

Nicolas, with angry confidence, accompanied the broad-shoul- 
dered Indian sheriff, and their companions followed silently. Across 
the adobe-walled gardens they trudged, and into the sandy "draw," 
whose trail led along the cliff and up among the jumbled crags at 
one side. 

"Yonder he jumped off," said 'Colas, "and fell — " But even 
then he rubbed his eyes and turned pale. For where he had left 
the limp, bleeding carcass of poor Paloma only twenty-four hours 
before, there was now nothing to be seen. Only, upon a rock, were 
a few red blotches. 

"What is this!" demanded the alguazil, sternly. "Hast thou 
hidden him away? Claro that something fell here — for there is 
blood and a tuft of hair upon yon stone. But where is the burro ?" 

"How should I hide him, since he was dead as the rocks? It is 
witchcraft, I tell you — for see! There are no tracks of him going 
away, even where the earth is soft. And for the coyotes and wild- 
cats — they would have left his bones. The Gentile I met — he is 
the witch. First he gave the evil eye to my poor beast, that it 
killed itself; and now he has flown away in its shape to do other 
ills." 

"It can be so," mused the sheriff, gravely; "but in the meantime 
there is no remedy — I have to answer to the Fathers of Medicine 
for you who bring such stories of dead burros, but cannot show 
them. For, I tell you, this has something to say for the deed 
that was done in the pueblo this morning. Al calabos!" 

Half an hour later, poor Nicolas was squatted disconsolately upon 
the bare floor of the adobe jail — that simple prison from which 
no one of the simple prisoners ever thinks to dig out. It is not so 
much the clay wall that holds them, as the authority of the law, 
which no Pueblo ever yet questioned. • 

" 'Colas's burro" was soon in every mouth. The strange story 
of its death and its reappearance to Lelo were not to be mocked 
at. So it used to be, that the animals were as people; and every 



278 OUT WEST 

one knew that there were witches still who took the forms of brutes 
and flew by night to work mischief. Perhaps it was some wizard 
of the Cumanche who thus, by the aid of the evil ones, was aveng- 
ing the long-haired horse-thieves who had fallen at Tajique. And 
now Pascual, returning from a ranch across the river, made known 
that, sitting upon his roof all night to think of the year, he had 
been aware of a burro that passed down the street even to the house 
of the war captain ; after which he had noticed it no more. Clearly, 
then! 

Some even thought that Lelo should be imprisoned, since he 
had seen the burro in the morning. And when, searching anew, 
they found in a splinter of the captain's door a long, coarse, gray 
hair, every man looked about him suspiciously. But there was no 
other clew — save that Francisco, the cleverest of hunters, called 
the officials to a little corner of the street, where the people had 
not crowded, and pointed to some dim marks in the sand. 

"Que importa?" said the gray-haired governor, shrugging his 
shoulders, as he leaned on his staff of office and looked closely. 
"In Isleta there are two thousand burros, and their paths are every- 
where." 

"But see!" persisted the trailer. "Are they like this? For this 
brute was lame in all the legs, so that his feet fell over to the inside 
a little, instead of coming flatly down. It will be the Enchanted 
Burro !" 

"Ahu!" cried Lelo, who stood by. "And this morning, when 
I passed the burro of Don 'Colas in the bushes, I saw that it was 
laming along as if its legs were stiff." 

By now no one doubted that there was witchcraft afoot, and 
the officials whose place it is were taking active measures to pre- 
serve the pueblo. The cacique sat in his closed house fasting and 
praying, with ashes upon his head. The Cum-pa-huit-la-wen were 
running here and there with their sacred bows and arrows, prying 
into every corner, if haply they might find a witch. In the house 
of mourning the Shamans were blinding the eyes of the ghosts, 
that none might follow the trail of the dead captain and do him 
harm before he should reach the safe other world. And in the 
medicine house the Father of All Medicine was blowing the slow 
smoke across the sacred bowl, to read in that magic mirror the 
secrets of the whole world. 

But in spite of everything, a curse seemed to have fallen upon 
the peaceful town. Lucero, the third assistant war captain, did 
not return with his flock, and when searchers went to the llano, 
they found him lying by a chapparo bush dead, and his sheep gone. 
But worst of all, he was scalped, and all the wisdom of that cun- 
ning head had been carried away to enrich the mysterious foe — 



THE ENCHANTED BURRO. 279 

for the soul and talents of an Indian go with his hair, according 
to Indian belief. And in a day or two came running Antonio Per- 
alta to the pueblo, gray as the dead and without his blanket. Herd- 
ing his father's horses back of the Accursed Hill, he set upon a 
block of lava to watch them. As they grazed a lame burro came 
around the hill grazing toward them. And when it was among 
them, they suddenly raised their heads in fear and snorted and 
turned to run ; but the burro, rising like a mountain-lion, sprang 
upon one of them and fastened on its neck, and all the herd stam- 
peded to the west, the accursed burro still perched upon its victim 
and tearing it. Ay! a gray burro, jovero (blaze-face) and with 
a white foot behind. Antonio had his musket, but he dared not fire 
after this witch beast. And here were twelve more good horses 
gone of what the Cumanche robbers had left. 

By now the whole pueblo was wrought to the highest tension. 
That frightful doubt which seizes a people oppressed by supernat- 
ural fears brooded everywhere. No man but was sure that the 
man he hated was mixed up in the witchcraft ; no man who was 
disliked by any one but felt the finger of suspicion pointing at 
him. People grew dumb and moody, and looked at each other from 
the corner of the eye as they passed without even a kindly "Hina- 
ku-pwiu, neighbor." As for work, that was almost forgotten, 
though the fields cried for care. No one dared take a flock to the 
llano, and few went even to their gardens. There were medicine 
makings every night to exorcise the evil spirits, and the Shamans 
worked wonders, and the medicine guards prowled high and low 
for witches. The cacique sat always in his house, seeing no one, 
nor eating, but torturing his flesh for the safety of his people. 

And still there was no salvation. Not a night went by but some 
new outrage befell. Now it was a swooping away of herds, now 
some man of the wisest and bravest was slain and scalped in his 
bed. And always there were no more tracks than those of a burro, 
stiff-kneed, whose hoofs did not strike squarely upon the ground. 
Many, also, caught glimpses of the Enchanted Burro, as they peered 
at midnight from their dark windows. Sometimes he plodded 
mournfully along the uncertain streets, as burros do; but some 
vowed that he came down suddenly from the sky, as alighting 
from a long flight. Without a doubt, old Melo had seen the brute 
walk up the ladder of Ambrosio's house the very night Ambrosio 
was found dead in the little lookout room upon his own roof. And 
a burro which could climb a ladder could certainly fly. 

On the fourth day Lelo could stand it no longer. "1 am going 
to the field," he said, "before the wheat dies. For it is as well 
to be eaten by the witches now as that we should starve to death 
next winter, when there will be nothing to eat." 



280 OUT WEST 

"What folly is this?" cried the neighbors. "Does Lelo think 
he is stronger than the ghosts ? Let him stay behind those who are 
more men." But Lelo had another trait, quite as marked as his 
slowness and good nature. When his deliberate mind was made 
up, there was no turning him; and, though he was as terrified 
as anyone by the awful happenings of the week, he had decided 
to attend to his field. So he only answered the taunts with a 
stolid, respectful, "No, I do not put myself against the ghosts. 
But perhaps they will let me alone, knowing that my mother has 
no one else to feed her." 

The flat-footed mother brought him two tortillas for lunch ; and, 
putting her hands upon his shoulders^ looked at him from wet 
eyes, saying not a word. And slinging over his shoulder the bow- 
case and quiver, Lelo trudged away. 

He plodded along the crooked meadow road, white-patched here 
and there with crystals of alkali ; jumped the main irrigating ditch 
with a great bound, and took "across lots" over the adobe fences 
and through the vineyards and the orchards of apple, peach and 
apricot. 

In the farther edge of the last orchard stood a tiny adobe house, 
where old Reyes had lived in the summer time to guard her ripen- 
ing fruits. Since her death it had been abandoned, with the garden, 
and next summer the Indian congress could allot it to any one 
who asked, since it would have been left unfilled for five years. 
The house was half hidden from sight — overshadowed on one 
side by ancient pear trees and on the other by the black cliffs of 
an advance guard of the lava flow. 

As he passed the ruined hut, Lelo suddenly stooped and began 
looking anxiously at a footprint in the soft earth. "That was 
from no moccasin of the Tee-wahn," he muttered to himself, "for 
the sole is flatter than ours. "And it comes out of the house where 
no one ever goes, now that Grandmother Reyes is dead. But this! 
For in three steps it is no more the foot of a man, but of a beast — 
going even to the bushes where I saw the Enchanted Burro that 
morning" — and all of a tremble, Lelo leaned up against the wall 
of the house. It was all he could do to keep from turning and 
bolting for home — and you need not laugh at him. The bow-case 
at his side was from the tawny mountain lion Lelo had slain in 
with his own hands in the canons of the Tetilla ; and when Refugio, 
the youngest medicine man, fell wounded in the forefront of the 
fight at Tajique, it was Lelo who had lumbered forward and 
brought him away in his arms, saving his life and hair from the 
Cumanche knife. But it takes a braver man to stand against 
his own superstitions than to face wild beast or wilder savage; and 
now, though Lelo did not flee, his knees smote together and the 



THE ENCHANTED BURRO. 281 

blood seemed to have left his head dry and over-light. He sat 
down, so weak was he ; and, with back against the wall, he tried to 
gather his scattered thoughts. 

At that very moment, if Lelo had turned his head a very little 
more to the left and looked at one particular rift in the thorny 
greasewoods that choken the foot of the cliff, he might have seen 
two dark, hungry eyes fixed upon him ; but Lelo was not looking 
that way so much as to the corner of the cliflF. There he would have 
to pass to the field ; and it was just around that corner that he had 
seen the Enchanted Burro, "And there also I have seen the mouth 
of a cave, where they say the ogres used to live and where no 
one dares to enter," — and he shivered again, like one half frozen. 
Then he did look back to the left, but saw nothing, for the eyes 
were no longer there. Only, a few rods farther to the left, where 
Lelo could not see for the wall at his back, the tall, white ears 
of a burro were moving quietly along in the bushes, which hid 
the rest of its body. Now and then the animal stopped and cocked 
up its ears, as if to listen ; and its eyes rose over the bush, shining 
with a deep, strange light. Just beyond was the low adobe wall 
that separated Reyes's garden from the next — running from the 
foot of the cliff down past the old house. 

To go on to the field needed even more courage than to keep 
from fleeing for home ; and stubborn as he was, Lelo was trying 
to muster up legs and heart to proceed. He even rose to his feet 
and drew back his elbows fiercely, straining the muscles of his chest, 
where there seemed to be such a weight. Just around the corner 
of the house, at that same moment, a burro's head, with white 
ears and a blazed face, rose noiselessly above the adobe fence, and 
seeing nothing, a pair of black hoofs came up, and in a swift bound 
the animal was over the wall — so lightly that even the sharp Indian 
ears not fifteen feet away heard nothing of it. 

But if Lelo did not notice, a sharper watcher did, "Kay-ee- 
w'yoo!" cried a complaining voice, and a brown bird with broad 
wings and a big, round head went fluttering from its perch on the 
porch. Lelo started violently, and then smiled at himself, "It is 
only tecolote," he muttered, "the little owl that lives with the tusas, 
and they say he is very wise. To see where he went." 

The boy stole around the corner of the house, but the owl was 
nowhere to be seen, and he started back. 

As he turned the angle again he caught sight of a burro's head 
just peeping from around the other corner; and Lelo felt the blood 
sinking from his face. The beast gave a little start and then drop- 
ping its head to a bunch of alfalfa that was green at the corner. 
But this did not relieve Lelo's terror. It was Paloma — dead Paloma 
— now the Witch Burro. There was no mistaking that jovero 



282 OUT WEST 

face. And plain it was, too, that this was no longer burro-true, 
but one of the accursed spirits in burro shape. Those eyes ! They 
seemed, in that swift flash in which they had met Lelo's, to be 
sunk far, far into the skull ; and he was sure that deep in them 
he saw a dull gleam of red. And the ears and head — they were 
touched with death, too ! Their skin seemed hard and rigid as 
rawhide, instead of fitting as the skin does in life. So, also, was 
the neck ; but no more was to be seen for the angle of the wall. 

There are men who die at seventy without having lived so long 
or suffered so much as Lelo lived and suffered in those few sec- 
onds. His breath refused to come, and his muscles seemed para- 
lyzed. This, then, was the Enchanted Burro — the witch that had 
slain the captain of war, and his lieutenants, and many more. And 
now he was come for Lelo — for, though he nosed the alfalfa, one 
grim eye was always on the boy. So, no doubt, he had watched 
his other victims — but from behind, for not one of them had ever 
moved. And with that thought a sudden rush of blood came prick- 
ing like needles in Lelo's head. 

"No one of them saw him, else they had surely fought ! And 
shall I give myself to him like a sheep? Not if he were ten 
witches !" And with the one swift motion of all his life, the lad 
dropped on one knee, even as hand and hand clapped notch to 
bowstring, and, in a mighty tug, drew the arrow to the head. 

Lightning-like as was his move, the burro understood, and 
hastily reared back — but a hair too late. The agate-tipped shaft 
struck midway of its neck with a loud rap as upon a drum, and 
bored through and through until the feathers touched the skin. 
The animal sprang high in air, with so wild and hideous a scream 
as never came from burro's throat before, and fell back amid the 
alfalfa, floundering and pawing at its neck. 

But Lelo had waited for no more. Already he was over the 
wall and running like a scared mustang, the bow in his left hand, 
his right clutching the bow-case, whose tawny tail leaped and flut- 
tered behind him. One-Eyed Ouico could have made it to the 
pueblo no faster than the town slow-poke, who burst into the plaza 
and the porch of the governor's house, gasping: 

"The Enchanted Burro ! I have killed him !" 

Fifteen minutes later the new war captain, the medicine men, 
the governor, and half the rest of the men of the pueblo were 
entering Reyes's garden, and Lelo was allowed to walk with the 
pHncipales. All were very grave, and some a little pale — for it 
was no laughing matter to meddle with the fiend, even after he 
was dead. There lay the burro, motionless. No pool of blood 
was around; but the white feathers of the arrow had turned red. 
Cautiously they approached, till suddenly Francisco, the sharp- 



THE ENCHANTED BURRO. 283 

est eyed of trailers, dashed forward and caught up the two hind 
legs from amid the alfalfa, crying: 

"Said I not that he tipped the hoofs? With reason!" 

For from each ankle five dark, naked toes projected from a slit 
in the hide. 

"Ay, well bewitched!" exclaimed the war captain. "Pull me 
the other side!" And at their tug the belly of the burro parted 
lengthwise, showing only a stiflf dried skin, and inside a swart 
body stripped to the breech-clout. Alongside lay arrows and a 
strong bow of buffalo horn, with a light copper hatchet and a keen 
scalping knife. 

"Sdcalo !" ordered the war captain ; but it was easier said than 
done. They bent the stubborn rawhide well apart; but not until 
one had run his knife up the neck of the skin and cut both ends 
of Lelo's arrow could they haul out the masquerader. The shaft 
had passed through his throat from side to side, pinning it to the 
rawhide, and there he had died. 

When the slippery form was at last dragged forth, and they 
saw its face, there was a startled murmur through the crowd; 
for even without the long scalp lock and the vermillion face-paint, 
there were many there who would have known the Cumanche medi- 
cine man, whose brother was the chief that fell at Tajique. He, 
too, had been taken prisoner, and had taunted his captors and 
promised to pay them, and in the night had escaped, leaving one 
sentinel dead and another wounded. 

The Enchanted Burro was all very plain now. The plains con- 
juror, knowing well by habit how to play on superstitious fears, 
had used poor Paloma as the instrument of his revenge — hiding 
the carcass and drying the skin quickly on a frame with hot ashes, 
so that it stood perfectly in shape by itself. The bones of the 
fore legs he had left in, to be managed with his hands ; and in 
the dark or amid grass, no one would have noticed the peculiarity 
of the hind legs. He had only to pry open the slit in the belly 
and crawl in, and the stiff hide closed after him. Thus he had 
wreaked the vengeance for which, unaccompanied, he had fol- 
lowed the Pueblos back to their village. In the cave behind the 
greasewoods were the scalps of his victims, drying on little willow 
hoops ; but instead of going to deck a Cumanche lodge in the great 
plains, they were tenderly buried in the old churchyard, restored 
to their proper owners. 

After all these years there still are in the pueblo many tales of 
the Enchanted Burro, nothing lost by the retelling. As for the 
skin itself, it lies moth-eaten in the dark storeroom of the man who 
has been first assistant war captain for twenty years, beginning his 
novitiate the very day he finished a witch and a Cumanche with 
a single art-ow. 

This story is reprinted by request, the book to which it gives the title being 
out of print. 




284 

AN IDYL or BUGVILLE 

By CHARLTON LAWRENCE EDHOLM. 
^glHE ramshackle street-car, no more imposing than a 
melon-crate and not much larger, came to a dead 
stop — a circumstance which was hardly significant 
to the two inmates, for its placid progress between the 
interminable clumps of grease-wood had been fre- 
quently interrupted before, once by the departure of the other 
passenger, a tall and very pale young man, whose summer suit 
hung on his gaunt frame as on a skeleton ; once again to breathe 
the burros ; and another time it had halted while the Mexican boy, 
in brass-buttoned driver's uniform and huge straw sombrero, chased 
a jack-rabbit that had run across the track. 

"Why, Mother, this must be the end of the line !" exclaimed 
the younger passenger, a slender, fragile girl of nineteen or twenty 
summers. "See there, I told you so. The Mexican boy is un- 
hitching those poor little donkeys." 

With an amused glance the mother followed the undersized 
lad in the over-sized uniform, who was driving his tiny, mouse- 
colored team to the other end of the car, urging the deliberate ani- 
mals with a sharp whistle and the frequent r-roUing ejaculation, 
"Bur-r-ro, you Bur-r-ro!" 

"Yes, this must be the end of the line, Margie," she said, look- 
ing over the mesa. "Those red brick buildings are the college — 
but where is Bisnaga Vista Terrace?" 

The mother, a robust woman, full-blown in her beauty as a 
Jacqueminot, wore the black-and-white of widowhood with a grace 
that made it a perfect setting for her charms. Mrs. Blandon was 
of the type of woman who would appear chic in any garb, even 
to penitential sackcloth and ashes. 

She descended from the car and looked carefully over the grease- 
wood bushes, whose polished green foliage made bright the miles 
of rolling mesa. 

Behind her lay the city of Bisnaga, shimmering in the Arizona 
sun, the old Mexican quarter with its whitewashed adobes dom- 
inated by the huge Santa Paula Hotel, a dazzling structure that 
from this distance resembled marble. Before her the red and 
white halls and dormitories of the college were scattered over a 
wide campus, reclaimed only in part from the primeval desert, 
which on all sides stretched its heat-tremulous reaches to range 
upon range of jagged purple peaks. 

But the object of her search, the tent-colony and health-resort, 
Bisnaga Vista Terrace, was nowhere to be seen. 

With a smile, such as she bestowed freely on all of his sex, 



AN IDYL OF BUGVILLE. 285 

Mrs. Blandon turned to the Mexican lad. Unerring in her choice 
of address, she did not call him "my boy," but "Driver," she said, 
"can you tell me where to look for Bisnaga Vista Terrace?" 

The boy was all grins, at this recognition of his uniform. He 
doffed his straw-stack of a sombrero and bowed profoundly as he 
answered, "No lo se, senora." 

"Pshaw, you must know where it is ; the agent said it was only 
a few steps from the end of the line. I'm sure you know, if I 
could only make you understand. Tents, you sabe ? Lots of tents ! 
Bisnaga Vista." 

"Quien sabe?" replied the boy, scratching his head in embar- 
rassment and working his brown toes into the sand. Then his 
eyes brightened as they rested on the girl's pale face. 

"You want — maybe — Boogville? No? That-a-way is Boog- 
ville — two mile/' and he waved his sombrero along the parched, 
sandy road that led toward the San Xavier range, apparently 
without passing so much as a ranch-house in its whole course. 

Mrs. Blandon was in despair. It would be a hardship for her, 
a decided hardship — and for her frail daughter as well — to trudge 
over that burning mesa looking for a settlement that had no ex- 
istence, for all she knew. Bugville was assuredly not the name 
the rascally agent had mentioned when he rented her the tent. 

She decided to return to the hotel and cajole that agent to 
bring them out in his motor car next morning. 

As she was about to re-enter the street car, a light rig, drawn 
by a white-splashed bay pony, came to a brisk trot along the road 
from town. It was driven by a gentleman whose gaunt frame 
appeared taller than it really measured, and whose face was almost 
as white as the duck suit he wore. But every line of that wasted 
face betokened strength; he handled his reins firmly and his grey 
eyes snapped with will-power as he curbed the headstrong horse. 

He had observed the perplexity of mother and daughter and with 
the case of a man of the world offered his assistance as readily as if 
they had been made acquainted in conventional fashion. 

"Pardon me, madam," he said, lifting his hat, while a sinewy 
left hand managed the reins ; "if I am not mistaken you are looking 
for Bugv — I should say Bisnaga Vista Terrace. I was told 
that two ladies had rented a tent." 

With her ready smile, the mother admitted that they were bound 
for the mysterious settlement, and begged to be directed that way. 

"It is in a hollow over the next two ridges," said the stranger. 
If you permit, I will take you there in my rig. It's a fatiguing 
walk in the heat of the day, and I see you have a hand satchel." 

He commanded the Mexican boy to hold his horse's head, dis- 
mounted, threw away his black cigar and assisted the ladies to 



286 OUT WEST 

the single seat with a courthness that was habitual. Then he tossed 
the lad a dime as he squeezed into the seat by Mrs. Blandon. The 
stranger did not apologize for the narrowness of the seat, an 
obvious inconvenience for which he was not responsible, but named 
himself as Harvey Crestfield, and remarked that they would be 
neighbors, since he and his sister were living next door to the 
vacant tent. 

To the daughter he spoke but few words and was careful not 
to show in any way that he regarded her as an invalid, though 
to one who had lived in Bisnaga it was plain that on her delicate, 
sensitive features, wistful in expression and tinted like a bud. 
Death was written large. 

In his easy way he made them acquainted with his sister as 
he drew up before his tent, where she insisted on the ladies resting 
before inspecting their own. 

"I don't know in what condition it was left by the previous 
tenants," she observed. "They went away in haste right after 
the funeral. It was the father who died, poor man ! He had 
consumption, too. So many of them delay coming here until it is 
too late," and Miss Crestfield glanced sympathetically toward the 
young girl. 

"Don't give a false impression of this infallible climate," inter- 
posed Crestfield crisply. "It's never too late. The old gentleman 
didn't have proper treatment — that was the trouble. He was a 
physician, had made a study of tuberculosis, and insisted on pre- 
scribing for' himself. His summing up of the case was this : 'A 
doctor who treats his own ailments has a fool for a patient and 
a fool for a doctor' — which ancient epigram finished him." 

The sister was a plump, motherly and voluble woman ; Mrs. 
Blandon gathered from her pleasant flow of talk that she was a 
spinster from choice, who had centered all her affections on her 
youngest brother. Janet Crestfield had only one pride in life — 
that was her brother's career, which had already swung as high 
as the State senate ; and she had only one aim in life — to see 
"Harve" a well man once more. 

She was delighted to have the Blandons as neighbors ; Mrs. 
Blandon shrewdly suspected that she would welcome anything 
that tended to keep his mind off the political situation in his state, 
which gave him many uneasy hours. The newspaper from his 
home town, the Parthian Arrow, was Miss Crestfield's abomina- 
tion, for it was filled with rumors of a special session of the legis- 
lature, which Harvey was determined to attend. "To return in 
his present state of health would kill him," she said, "for he would 
insist on taking part in the hotly contested Rivertown-Parthia fight. 
His heart is in 5t." 



AN IDYL OF BUGVILLE. 287 

That was the beginning of the friendship between Margaret 
Blandon and Harvey Crestfield, whose unobtrusive services and 
companionship did much to hghten the disappointments which life 
in Bisnaga Vista Terrace brought the newcomers. 

This colony of consumptive tent-dwellers could boast of nothing 
pretentious but its name — and its rental. As Crestfield observed, 
smiling cynically : "It is no terrace ; it has no vista, being in a dip of 
the mesa; and not a solitary bisnaga, whatever that mysterious 
creature may be, lives in this neighborhood." 

His sister remarked that the bisnaga was a variety of cactus, 
"also called — something about a donkey — Oh, I remember, 'nig- 
ger-head,' because it's so round and kinky, you know." 

But there were plenty of other cacti to make up for this last de- 
ficiency, and one of the first signs of improvement in Margaret's 
condition was the interest she took in forming a cactus-garden. 
She was constantly watering and tending the little plot, her slender 
hands encased in gauntlets and on her sunny head the same kind 
of a straw sombrero worn by the Mexican car-driver. 

Nature had planted her first specimen, the cholla, a tree-cactus, 
eight feet in height, whose branches and joints, bristling like 
hedgehogs with two-inch, silvery spines, aflforded protection for 
the birds which built among its needles. 

The cholla bore a profusion of star-shaped, pink flowers ; and 
the prickly pear, which was her next treasure, bore a frail, canary- 
colored blossom, with a bud like a tea-rose. The rainbow cactus 
was an early acquisition ; it resembled a cluster of cucumbers stood 
on end and covered with short spines, whose bars of soft color 
give it the name, and was crowned in its season with a large 
crimson blossom. 

Crestfield helped her frequently in working about the garden, 
and presently it became their habit to sally forth behind the little 
pinto and scour the desert for new specimens. 

Mrs. Blandon did not care to go on these excursions. It was 
evident that she took no interest in her daughter's garden or other 
pleasures, and that she was bored with the uneventful course of 
life so far from the city. Not for her unseeing eyes the pathos 
of youth and age struck down alike by disease ; the tenderness of 
unceasing care ; the fierce grapple with the White Monster, too often 
coupled with the fight against the wolf at the door; the gay humor 
with which the doomed so often faced their fate — of this tragedy 
played time and again to its bitter end before her eyes, she was 
neither participant nor onlooker; she was simply bored, unstirred 
by the pity and terror of it all. 

The visits of Boulanger, ex-tenor from the Tivoli Opera Troupe, 
were the only bright spots in her days. When he delivered the 



288 OUT W EST 

daily beefsteak, they would lean on the gate for an hour, exchang- 
ing theatrical gossip. 

As for Margaret and Harvey, they brought home in triumph a 
new treasure each day; now an ocatilla, resembling a bunch of 
leafy fish-poles, tipped with scarlet ; again, "old man," a little woolly 
ball like a head of white hair; and even the elusive bisnaga was 
found at last, a large, melon-like sphere, threatening with needles 
and fish-hooks, "to cotch 'em a-comin' an' a-goin,' as Crestfield 
remarked, and surmounting this formidable head a truly regal 
crown of ruby blossoms and golden buds. 

"We'll bring a little truth into Bisnaga Vista Terrace," smiled 
Crestfield. "If we can't supply the vista or the terrace we can 
at least supply the bisnaga, and with one-third truth in a name 
we strike a pretty fair average for this wicked, wicked world." 

"Why do they call it Bugville ?" queried Margaret unexpectedly. 

"Who does?" 

"Why, everybody! You started to call it that, the first day 
I met you." 

"Oh, it's just a fool name that a fool girl gave it once upon 
a time, and it stuck. Too much truth in that name, I reckon !" 

"Well, what does it mean?" persisted Margaret. 

Crestfield's grey eyes lighted with fun: "There was once upon a 
time a young lady here whose father, a Polish Jew, had been a 
shoe-string peddler before he became the Dry Goods King of the 
East Side. His daughter was suffering from what she called two- 
buggies, which she discussed so incessantly that she at last abrevi- 
ated the name in familiar speech to bugs. The rest of the camp 
found it a great convenience in referring to their disease to use 
a name of one syllable — an economy of time and breath for folks 
who are short of both — and, besides, bugs doesn't sound nearly as 
tragic as tuberculosis. So now you know what we've all got, here 
in Bugville. Next time Doctor Fenwick calls, you just ask him, 
'How are my bugs this morning. Doctor?' and see if he doesn't 
give you a first-class report." 

By this time they had overcome their shyness in referring to 
the grim disease which had brought them into desert exile — the 
girl from a broken college course in Berkeley, the man from 
the South and a career of exceptional promise. 

They had become good friends, indeed, from discussion of books 
and music and cactus gardens before he could be induced to talk 
of his political aspirations ; but Margaret was uneasy from Janet 
Crestfield's allusions to the dreaded special session of the legis- 
lature, and finally led him to the subject in such a subtle manner 
that he was not aware of it. 

"The situation in my county is this," he explained. "The prin- 



AN IDYL OF BUGVILLB. 289 

cipal city, Parthia, has a chained boss, who is Hkely to break 
out if we are not careful. His name is Dan Slavin, King of the 
Eighth ward, 'King over the water,' as they used to call the Pre- 
tender, for his ward is the factory operatives' quarter across the 
river from new Parthia. It is an old part of town, older than 
the city, which was built up by a well-to-do class of people who were 
content to let Rivertown, as it was called, have the vice as well as 
the poverty of Parthia. 

"So Rivertown became a slum quarter, a den of thieves in which 
the biggest thief ruled. His like is a familiar figure in every 
city — a friend of the poor, who gives them turkeys at Christmas 
and sells them a vile grade of whiskey the rest of the year ; a 
libertine, a good-fellow, a notorious grafter, and for twenty years 
political chief of the 'dirty eighth.' 

"Ten years ago his gang succeeded in slipping a bill through 
the legislature, which was claimed to be purely local business of an 
obscure county and so escaped careful inspection. You see, there 
are so many purely local bills introduced in every session that we 
couldn't find time to pass on all of them; and when we are assured 
that it is nothing but such business, we take the word of which- 
ever senator stands sponsor for the bill. Well, we were tricked. 
The bill provided, among a host of irrelevant matters, for the 
separation of Rivertown from Parthia; and at the first local elec- 
tion Dan Slavin became mayor. For ' nine years he ran that 
town to suit himself, with only slight curb from the county of- 
ficials, and it became known as the most disreputable hole in the 
South. He made a barrel of money out of his dives, most of which 
fortune he invested last year in a big resort which was to outdo 
the Midway and Monte Carlo combined. It was an unlucky time 
for him to risk his capital in that kind of a speculation, for it was 
the year in which the Civic League decided we'd had enough of 
Slavin. We licked the organization into fighting trim, captured the 
legislature — that's when I broke in — and re-annexed Rivertown 
by the bare necessary majority. 

"Since then Slavin has sat in the council of Parthia, to be sure, 
but his power is far less than it was. His ward is half-way decent ; 
his gambling resort was never opened, and they say that there 
is a heavy mortgage on the property which falls due in a few 
months. That's as far as the good news goes. 

"The dark side of the picture is this : Slavin began to rebuild his 
fences as soon as I quit the field on account of my poor health. He 
has a party working for him in the county, and they say he'll 
run for sheriff. Also he has a party in the legislature that runs 
the Governor, and when he calls a special session, it will mean that 
the gang is prepared to repeal the Rivertown-Parthia Bill, and turn 



290 OUT WEST 

over the eighth ward to Dan Slavin as an annex to his gambling 
joint." 

Janet had heard their voices in the cactus garden and now 
came to the tent door. "Shame on you, Margie, for letting Harve 
talk so much ! He'll be coughing all night for this. Harve, you're 
a naughty boy !" 

"Don't you fret. Sis. I'm not dead yet, though Slavin thinks 
I am. Did you see how his sheet, the Rivertown Bugle, referred 
to me? 'Our esteemed opponent, the Boy Wonder of the Senate, 
has taken his one remaining lung to Arizona. Peace to his ashes !' 
We'll give Dan Slavin peace, behind the bars, some o' these days. 
When I rise from my ashes he'll admit I'm the original phoenix." 

"Oh, Harve, do be still ! You let Dan Slavin have plenty of rope' 
and he'll hang himself presently." 

"Yes, we kept saying that and paying out rope for twenty years. 
This year we're going to give him a gallows and a political hang- 
man to boot." He turned to Margaret, the earnestness all gone 
from his eyes. "Would you care to take a buggy ride with the 
hang-man?" he asked. 

This ride over the mesa was one that Margaret remembered 
always with joy and pang. Its ostensible purpose was to secure 
a new cactus, a zahuaro, for the famous garden. This variety 
grows on the mesas and foothills, a stem like a Corinthian column, 
sometimes with arms like a cross, sometimes with large branches 
pointing upward, close around the trunk like a cluster of huge 
organ-pipes. It grows to the height of forty feet, but Margaret 
thought she would be content with a couple of baby zahuaros, a foot 
high, and wait for them to grow up. 

"Fine idea !" commented Harvey. "You'd have a nice leisurely time 
raising them; they only require an even hundred years to reach 
maturity. But, pshaw ! out here in the desert you're supposed 
to live to that age at least. It's a civic duty to advertise the Arizona 
climate just that way." 

"I'm afraid I'll never be a credit to the climate," she answered 
pensively. 

He glanced at her, and, with a sudden sinking of the heart, ob- 
served that she was indeed losing strength. The transparent com- 
plexion, so delicately tinted, the fine, sensitive features, the large 
and luminous hazel eyes, in which lurked that wistful expression 
even when she smiled — in all these details, exquisite as the work 
of an old Florentine painter, he could trace the brush work of that 
subtle master. Death. 

"Margaret, don't talk that way," he urged. "That is the great- 
est danger — for you to give up the struggle. Don't you remember 
how many strong, active people are living happily in this city, who 



AN IDYL OF BUGVILLB. 291 

came here in far worse condition than yours or mine? There's 
Preston, the ice-man, who used to be cashier in the Planter's Na- 
tional Bank in St. Louis. He was brought here on a stretcher 
and now he can handle those slabs of ice like a giant. And there's 
Boulanger, of the old Tivoli Opera in San Francisco — you know 
that tall, dark chap who drives the butcher cart. Why, he couldn't 
speak above a whisper once, and now he goes whooping and rat- 
tling over these mesas like an Apache. This climate will bring us 
back to life, dear girl, if we give it a chance. Try hard, little 
girl, try to live for the sake of a friend that would miss you more 
than he can ever say." 

It was the first time he had spoken to her in terms of endear- 
ment. Margaret flushed with a sudden thrill of happiness, and 
turned her face toward the sunset to conceal her emotion. 

"Yes, I should like to live now," she said simply; and, after a 
breathless pause, "1 wish you would promise to stay here until I 
am well, or," she continued softly, "until I " 

"Why, what nonsense!" he laughed. "You are not going to — " 
he too checked himself at the word and went on briskly. "You are 
going to stay here in this life-giving air, watering your cacti that 
don't want any water, and tending your baby zahuaros until they 
are centenarians. And I — well, I am going home to finish Dan 
Slavin, and then come back and get a job on the baker's cart, and 
then we'll spend the rest of our long and peaceful lives adding 
specimens to your cactus garden till we've got 'em all." He pointed 
with his whip to the glowing west. "Isn't that a wonderfully 
beautiful sight ! Look at those majestic zahuaros looming black 
against the fiery sky. Some are tall and straight as the fluted 
pillars of a Greek temple, with a wreath of delicate blossoms for 
a capital, and others are branched like a cross. What monu- 
mental beauty! How serene and stately they rise from the bare 
contour of yonder ridge. Isn't it worth living for, to see such a 
vision ?" 

"No," she answered wearily, "let's go home. They make me 
think of a vast graveyard on a dead planet, your columns and 
crosses." She felt the wretchedness of failure. If he had promised 
to stay in the territory, his life might be saved. But instead of that 
his only thought was to down his enemy. What did it matter, she 
asked herself rebelliously, whether Slavin was defeated or not? 
Could a man crush out evil in the world, or even in his little corner 
of it, by a political victor>'? And yet for that he was willing to 
risk his life — and hers. 

When they reached the tents at dusk they almost ran into a mes- 
senger-boy on a wheel, who handed Crestfield a yellow envelope. 
It was a telegram from his colleague in the senate, his fighting mate : 



292 OUT WEST 

> 

"Special session called for the thirty-first. Stiff tussle expected. 
We need your help. Come. John Cartwright." 

"Any answer?" asked the boy. 

"Sure — let's have a blank." He hastily wrote the word, "Com- 
ing," and signed his name, with a flourish like a battle pennant, 
"Harvey Crestfield." 

His eye caught Margaret's for one brief second, and answered 
its mute appeal with an indulgent smile as if she were a child. 
The boy was not out of sight over the ridge before Crestfield was 
throwing things into his suit-case. 

Six months elapsed before Senator Crestfield returned to Arizona. 
Like six days had passed the time of battle and dearly-won victory, 
for to a brave man a hard fight is what the ball is to a young 
girl — a fleeting hour of thrill, of conquest and joy in triumph. 

He had left his sister to help care for Margaret, — had insisted 
on it, for he knew that the mother was daily growing more indif- 
ferent to her daughter's condition. The elder sister obeyed her 
"baby" brother, as she had done ever since he was a real baby, 
and tyrant of the household. 

The letters received from Janet had passed through his life in 
those days like voices heard in a dream. She had touched lightly 
and unconvincingly upon the changes which had taken place during 
his absence ; on the mirage-like transformation of a western town, 
which, when you close your eyes is a hamlet and, when you open 
them, a city. She had expressed solicitude about his health — 
that was the gist of her letters. She had rejoiced in his success, 
without in the least understanding it; in her feminine mind, Slavin 
was a personal enemy in whose downfall she rejoiced, and Harvey 
Crestfield's victory was a personal one, not a victory for decency in 
government. Likewise, his assurance of the nomination for gover- 
nor on the ticket that invariably carried his State, was just another 
proof that her "Harve" was a great and good man. The principles 
he stood for meant little to her. 

He read all this between the lines in her letters, and his sigh 
was between a tear and a smile. This dog-like devotion was not 
the love for which his heart hungered in its rare moments of quiet. 

He read also that Margaret followed his political battles with 
eager interest. A single letter from her, hastily answered, had 
convinced him that she understood his ambition to win power only 
that he might combat evil in the corner of the world entrusted to 
his stewardship. The reports of her condition had been steadily 
discouraging. Janet complained that Mrs. Blandon seemed to care 
more for "that erratic Boulanger" than for her own daughter. 
Harvey was resigned to the news of his little friend's death when it 
came. But that was the same day on which the Rivertown-Parthia 
Bill was to come to vote in the Senate, and all his energy was needed 
at his post. 

These memories flitted across his mind as he sat in the trolley car 
one winter evening, flashing toward the old site of Bugville. 

Things had indeed changed. The trolley had replaced the quaint 
old burro cars, and the mesa had sprung into new life. Homes in 
the charming "Mission" style dotted the ridges along the line. He 
sighed, a little homesick for the vast loneliness of the desert that 
was. The present Bisnaga Vista Terrace, built on the height, was 



AN IDYL OF BUGVILLB. 293 

a suburb of wealth, boasting a dozen villas redolent of pine shavings 
and fresh mortar, a country club and golf links hewn out of the 
grease-wood and cactus. Bugville was gone. The tents were all 
gone. No consumptives were desired near the aristocratic Terrace, 
and the grimly humorous name had passed from the memory of this 
changing western suburb, together with the scattered health-seekers. 
Mrs. Blandon was gone — married to Boulanger shortly after her 
daughter's death. Janet was living in the big hotel. He smiled 
as he recalled her voluble reproaches for his self-neglect. It was 
true, he had recklessly overworked his weakened body. He realized 
with a shock that he too would soon pass away like all the rest of 
these ephemeral things — perhaps his name and work would vanish 
with him. When he reached the twilight hollow where the tents 
had stood, he felt as if the Desert had taken back her own. 

A well-frame or two remained ; a few square outlines in the sand 
where a foundation had rested ; and in front of a certain rectangle 
were two little zahuaros and a variety of transplanted cacti. Only 
the baby zahuaros looked as if they might live their allotted hundred 
years. 

Crestfield leaned on his stick and regarded them thoughtfully. 
"Poor little gardener!" he said very softly. "Your garden out- 
lived you, but it misses you badly.' Abruptly as the hand of death 
a terrible racking couph silenced his words. He had made a 
mistake to return home, he thought, but another six months in the 
territory would give him strength for the convention and campaign. 

Again his" mind reverted to the little, lonely girl, fatherless and 
practically motherless, who had urged him to stay with her to 
the end, and the meaning of her words came to him on an over- 
whelming wave of tenderness. It was to save his life she had urged 
him to stay ; willing to risk his career because she loved him, the 
man, more than the successful politician. A flitting vision of fawn- 
ing office-seekers, already a nuisance, disgusted him. 

Yes, he had succeeded, he mused. Slavin was indicted and held 
in prison for trial. He was bankrupt ; getting old too, and broken 
from his excesses. He seemed a pitiable opponent. The "dirty 
eighth" was kept half decent. The legislature was undergoing 
purification. As Governor Crestfield, he could lead an aggressive 
reform party against the corruption in his state. He must go home 
in a few months and light! 

The battle thrill subsided as he again glanced at the forlorn gar- 
den. There were no blossoms there now. He felt as if the frail 
and fragrant blossoms were torn forever from his life, and a sud- 
den yearning came over him to see again the delicately tinted, up- 
turned face, glowing in the fading afterglow of the sunset, the 
sensitive features, the luminous eyes that had looked into his as 
no other eyes of woman had ever gazed. 

With humiliation, he recalled that he had refused her only re- 
quest, and poignant regret pierced his soul. 

"I was a fool !" he groaned. "Who am I to regenerate the world 
bv fighting Evil ? I, who neglected my chance to do Good ! I am 
a' fool." 

A paroxysm of coughing shook him to the marrow. It was 
almost dark. He slowly retraced his steps. 

Los Angeles. 




294 

THE SPHINX OF THE HILLS 

By R. C. PITZER. 
HE clouds swirled and eddied about them ; the depressing 
drizzle changed to oblique rain, cold and biting. Un- 
der their feet, the moss and bare stones of the mountain- 
top grew damply treacherous. Altogether, the weather 
put a very lugubrious cap upon a none too pleasant 
afternoon of courtship; and Agnes' countenance was sullen, drawn 
into petulant and unreasonable morosity. She kept her face turned 
from the miserable Harnett, and gloomed with drooping lip. 

"It must be two miles down to Ameahaha," Harnett shivered; 
"and we didn't bring any wraps. My fault — entirely my fault, Miss 
Torpans. You'll catch your death." 

"There's a cabin below us," she said, indicating a small ravine 
which began at their feet and broadened into the obliterating mist. 
"I caught a glimpse of it when the wind opened an alley through the 
cloud. Take me there, please." 

"Landlord Greggs told me this part of Specter Mountain was 
uninhabited." Harnett began, doubtfully. "However, if you saw 
it — And, of course, any shelter would be welcome." He led her 
down a crumbling bed of shale. As they went, pine-trees sprang 
up on both sides the ravine, and the wind whistled in the needles an 
accompaniment to the water's hissing aspersion. 

"There," Agnes said ; "on that knoll to the left, just this side the 
pines. I caught a glimpse of it but now." 

They breasted the slippery hillside, and arrived panting at the 
knoll, where a squat cabin sprang out of the dripping cloud. 

"I'll see you safely sheltered, "and then go down to the hotel after 
your wraps. Your waist is quite wet already. If I tell your mother, 
she can send you another?" 

"We'll see," Agnes returned. "It depends on who is here. I 
can't say that I particularly care about your staying." 

"No, I suppose not. However" — Harnett's voice grew bitter — 
"I really wasn't criminal in proposing to you. You need not send 
me to Coventry because I'm in love." 

"We won't discuss that — Oh !" She stopped in bitter disappoint- 
ment. The cabin, on whose threshold they stood, was deserted and 
decayed. Small pine saplings nodded drooping heads in welcome 
from the dirt roof ; rank grasses and weeds grew into the log walls, 
and the door — if there had ever been a door- — was completely rotted 
away. There was no window, but opposite the entrance was a 
jagged hole, once a fireplace, where part of the stone-stick-and-mud 
chimney still stood. 

"It's shelter from the rain, anyhow," Harnett said. "Come, 
hurrv in." 



THE SPHINX OF THE HILLS 295 

Agnes hesitated, holding back the skirts from her ankles and 
shivering, partly with chill, partly in some nameless distaste, timid- 
ity, or even dread. 

"There may be something in there," she said with a wry mouth ; 
"mountain rats, or — or a bear. And the logs inside are covered 
with moss." 

Harnett stepped across* the threshold. "Not even a bat," he said, 
"but here's an old bench, and — hello ! don't go on that side, please." 

Agnes drew back with a timid chatter. "What is it?" she asked, 
catching his arm and peering at something obscurely outlined in a 
comer. 

"An old bunk, I think. You can sit here." He tested the rough- 
hewn bench, brushed it, and offered her the seat. "Let me give 
you my coat; it's not damp inside. No, I'm not a bit cold, really; 
and, anyhow I'm going to exercise. I can pull that rotten bunk 
to pieces," he went on, "and here — " he exhibited a match-safe. 
"We'll have a fire, and be dry and cosy in ten minutes." 

Agnes sighed : her lips grew pleasanter at the very thought. "But 
look there," she said, pointing to the right-hand wall. "Isn't that 
an axe? This must be inhabited, after all." 

Harnett wonderingly took down an axe from where it hung on a 
peg. "Yes," he said in surprise; "but the blade is badly rusted; 
it must have hung there for years. Odd, that !" 

Suddenly Agnes started. "Oh, I remember!" she breathlessly 
exclaimed ; and stood up as if half inclined to rush into the rain. 
"I've heard of this place. Hurry with the fire, do; this is so dark 
and dismal. The other night our landlady said there was a haunted 
cabin here, deserted and in ruins. None will sleep in it." 

Harnett laughed. To have Agnes talk about even haunted cabins, 
and talk naturally, was a pleasure. "An aged prospector with flow- 
ing beard ?" he asked, going to the bunk, "who whaups in the trees 
and will lead the right person to a fabulous mine? I've heard of 
such ghosts before. A-h-h-h!" 

"What is it?" Agnes' voice was half hysterical. 

"Nothing — some rotten cloth on the bunk." He struck a match. 
"Blankets, I fancy," he said, "but almost rotted away. How shall I 
get them out? A shovel!" At the end of the bunk his foot struck 
the long blade of a prospecting shovel. "Looks as if the owner left 
in a hurry," he grunted. "Never mind — this is a Crusoe windfall. 
Stand back by the fireplace, won't you? and I'll put these blankets 
outside. Then for dry wood and a fire !" 

"There's a little table here, too," Agnes said in a moment, "and 
a cupboard built against the wall. This is an adventure, isn't it?" 
Her voice was becoming spirited and enthusiastic over the little 
mystery. "The ancient inhabitant seems to have made himself quite 



296 OUT WEST 

comfortable here before he left — without his chattels. I wonder if 
he died? That would explain the ghost." 

"Does it walk?" Harnett puffed, swinging the axe against rotten 
wood, and talking between crashes. "I don't remember hearing it 
mentioned. It's odd that the tools have been left here so long, but 
perhaps they were already useless when other men came by." 

"I suppose. As for the ghost, Mrs. Greggs didn't say much. She 
was really earnest about it ; but table rappings interested her more." 

Harnett knelt at the stone hearth, before dry needles once used as 
a mattress, and lighted his fire. The blaze roared with startling 
suddenness, throwing the interior into red relief. Smoke succeeded, 
but an accommodating breeze kept a fair draft, and in a moment the 
room cleared. Agnes moved her bench close to the hearth, and 
spread her hands to the friendly heat. 

"Just see your coat steam," she said. "Here, put it on. I don't 
need it now. Peek out, won't you, and see if the storm is clearing? 
It must be four o'clock ; we can't stay here long, whether we have 
clear sky or rain. Harnett wisely examined the weather, cocking 
his head owl-like and knowingly. "It'll clear in an hour," he 
prophesied; "these rains come from the northwest, where the cloud 
seems lighter. It has eased up quite a bit already." He returned, 
spreading his legs before the fire. 

A momentary embarassment seized both, and they consciously 
studied the cabin, avoiding the shock of meeting eyes. 

"Our predecessor must have been aristocratic," Harnett said, 
eager to retain the ghost of friendly conversation. "Those things 
on pegs behind the bunk must be clothes, deserted with the cabin. I 
wonder how long they've been hanging there?" 

"And there are a pair of rotting boots," Agnes said, pointing; 
"and there, a hat." They looked at each other, quite startled, and 
-a growing thought darkened their faces. "I believe those were his 
only clothes," Agnes continued. "He — he must have died here." 

"Long ago. The air is high and usually dry ; cloth would mould 
more slowly here than nearer the ocean. It would have been thirty 
years ago — forty — fifty. The sphinx knows." 

"It's rather ghastly," Agnes said, moistening her lips and drawing 
still nearer the fire. "That cupboard behind you — perhaps it holds 
the secret. Won't you look?" 

The door was hung on leather straps, and sagged when opened. 
"Old nests of mountain rats," he said, disgusted. "Oh, no! no! 
no rats — just the mildewed nests. Everything left here was chewed 
up or eaten long ago." He took a stick and stirred the odds and 
ends. "A knife blade," he said in a moment, "and a bit of uneaten 
candle ; part of a flour sack ; a — yes, it looks like the clasp of a purse 
— the leather was chewed up by the rats, I suppose. And — " he 



THE SPHINX OF THE HILLS 297 

stopped suddenly, picked up something, and .carrned it to the door- 
way. 

"What is it?" Agnes asked. 

"A daguerreotype. A young woman." He started heavily, and 
grunted with astonishment. "I can't make out the face," he hastily 
continued ; "it has quite faded away." He peered at Agnes queerly, 
looked long at the tin-type, and finally thrust it in a breast pocket. 
"And that is all," he said, turning back into the room. "You notice 
there are no pack-saddles, arms, or anything of the sort ; so the 
things left here were intentionally abandoned. Nothing of any 
value; probably the axe and shovel were already worn out." 

Agnes puckered her brows. "If," she slowly began, "if he died 
here? And the bedding and clothes were left? Why, some one 
must have had a contagious disease, and died of it ! His compan- 
ions buried him and ran away. Do you think it safe for us to stay ?" 

"Yes, even if your theory is true. But again, suppose a lone pros- 
pector became delirious, wandered away from his sick-bed, and died 
in the woods ? Later comers took his valuables, leaving these things. 
Oh, there are no end of theories, but you can't tell. However, there 
are other riddles." 

He took a place beside her, staring at the fire. Agnes drew away 
and stiffened. 

"I don't wish to take an unfair advantage," Harnett began. 

"Then don't." 

"But I must ask one question. Is it money? Do you refuse me 
because I can't make a stock-and-bond living?" 

Agnes rose, went to the door, and studiously observed the clouds. 
"If you must ask," she said over her shoulder, "no! It is not be- 
cause you are poor in pocket — I'm not a cad. But you are poor in 
other ways. Come," she whimsically continued, "shall I dissect 
you, or are you willing to take my word?" 

"Quite." Harnett's tone was gloomy. "I know what you mean. 
You like people who do things — who act heroics and go out in spurts 
of glory, like your everlasting grandfather." 

Agnes turned swiftly, red-cheeked and quarrelsome. "My grand- 
father died grandly on a battle-field," she flashed ; "not meanly at a 
desk — as you will die." 

"It seems to me that you miss the point. You don't have to die 
with a husband, you have to live with him ; and for that, homely 
virtues are to be considered, Miss Torpans. Besides, how do you 
know I'm a coward? and how do you know your grandfather was a 
hero?" 

"I don't care to know about you," she said coldly. "As for grand- 
father, he was killed in battle." 

"So you've said. Anybody can get killed somehow. I think it 



298 OUT W EST 

would be braver — living without you." His voice trembled. "But 
don't be alarmed : I'm not going to be theatrical. If you won't, you 
won't, and that ends it. I had no intention of insulting Mr. Tor- 
pans' memory. You, and your mother, and your grandmother, hold 
him too dearly for me not to honor him. Come, forgive me and 
close the subject. Think of the difference between this lonely, un- 
honored death-bed here," he resumed, "and your grandfather's end 
at Bull Run, only a month after enlisting. One for gold, one for 
honor. I rather envy Simon Leach Torpans." 

"Yes," she softly said, returning to her seat, "anyone must. I am 
very proud of him. Grandmother has a beautiful letter from his 
captain, telling her of her widowhood. Her soldier lies in an un- 
marked grave." 

"Did any one see him killed?" Harnett asked, feeling the hidden 
daguerreotype. 

"No, but he must have died at the very front of the fight," Agnes 
said, positively. She clasped her hands over her knees, and blinked 
the fire. Sparks flew as Harnett cast more wood on the blaze. 

"What are you doing?" Agnes asked, suddenly looking back. 

Harnett started and drew away from where he stood beside the 
rotting clothes. "Nothing," he stammered. "I — that is, yes, I was 
doing something. I'm going to throw these clothes away. Your 
hypothesis of a contagious disease killing their owner has made me 
nervous." 

Agnes' lip slightly curled, but she drew it straight again, and 
looked a trafle ashamed. Harnett, not noticing her varying moods, 
gathered the clothes in his arms, and stepped into the drizzle. He 
was gone for several minutes, and Agnes went to the doorway. She 
saw him bent half double over the coat. 

"Perhaps there's something in the pockets," she suggested. 

The young man straightened up with a start, and his hand went 
to his breast again. When he faced her, pallor was on his cheeks, 
and his eyes were troubled. "No," he stammered. "That is — I 
didn't look. Wait a minute and I'll see." 

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Agnes ordered. "I was foolish 
to suggest it. After all, there might be germs in the cloth. Come 
inside, please, before you get wet." 

"It'll be quite clear in a bit," Harnett said absently. "See, it's 
hardly raining at all, and I can make out the sun in the west. We'll 
have one rousing blaze, and then wade home to the hotel." Again 
he threw wood on the fire. "This grandfather of yours," he re- 
sumed in a moment, "always interests me." 

"You don't usually show it," Agnes said, dryly. 

"But he does — now. Did you ever recover anything of his ? Any 
jewelry?" 



THE SPHINX OF THE HILLS 299 

"No ; I suppose it was looted, as the soldiers say ; or buried with 
him. It's such a shame. I've often heard grandmother describe and 
long for his gold watch. She gave it to him ; it had their initials, 
'S. A.,' as a monogram, and a small water-color miniature of her, 
taken before marriage, in the case. There was a lock of her hair, 
too." 

"Yes, I have heard her describe the watch. When she was a girl, 
wasn't her hair rather brown?" 

Agnes nodded. "Just like mine," she said; and ran a slim hand 
through a heavy silken crown. 

Harnett's face was very grave, and drawn in somewhat painful 
and puzzling thought. "In the coat — " he began, and stopped, 
"Your grandmother," he began again, "was beautiful when that min- 
iature was taken ; almost like you, I can quite see her face outlined 
in yours, I think — Listen !" The last word came hissingly, 

"What did you hear? I've been expecting something ghostly, and 
it hasn't come. Really, did you — " She stopped, stricken suddenly 
pallid. The rain dripped softly, and a slow wind whimpered, while 
somewhere outside a wet bird cheeped hopefully. Then, again, a 
low whisper, not quite natural, somehow ; not the breeze, or the trees, 
and certainly not either of the ear-strained couple. 

Harnett motioned toward the dismantled bunk. There seemed a 
sound there, labial, indistinct, and weird. 

"We'll go outside and look," he said under his breath, extending 
a hani which she convulsively caught and kept. But they did not 
move, for an inexpressible feeling of another's presence was upon 
them ; and between them and the doorway, they instinctively felt 
that something stood. A trembling seized both, a hurrying of 
nerves and cold prickling at the hair-roots. Yet nothing strange was 
visible, and the gloom momently lightened as the tail end of the cloud 
blew past. Agnes clung tighter to Harnett's hand, drew appealingly 
close, and stared, her eyes following the movements of what they 
could not see. 

"It's at the door," Harnett whispered. 

Agnes, moistening her lips, nodded. 

A long moment, and then a dull detonation sounded ; a muffled 
report, as if of a fire-arm. They drew breath together and hand in 
hand rushed into the empty world, and there turned upon each other, 
white-lipped and questioning. 

"Psha!" Harnett cried, regaining his normal mind, "we're little 
children. Come in out of the drizzle. We neither saw nor heard 
an>'thihg." 

"But we felt," she murmured, and held back in protest. Never- 
theless she followed him. "You dropped your watch," she said, 
pointing to where they had been standing by the hearth. "I didn't 
know you had such a big time-piece ; and there's something beside it." 

"Yes, that daguerreotype I found," he returned, nervously ; "there 
must be a hole in my pocket." 



300 OUT WEST 

"Let me see the picture." 

"Oh, it's quite faded," he hastily denied her. "Funny, isn't it, 
when one expects ghosts, how one hears odd things? I was almost 
ready to challenge the whisper, and lo, the wind talking ! Then the 
sound of a distant blast, and we fairly ran away." 

"I don't think I care to stay longer," Agnes said. "But why not 
let me see the tin-type ? I'm becoming inquisitive." 

"It has a pen-script on the back of it," Harnett answered almost 
under his breath. "Did your grandmother ever have any disap- 
pointed sweetheart who might write her name, I wonder ? Any one 
who came west?" 

"Not my grandmother's name?" Agnes asked in such startled be- 
wilderment that her voice could not reflect her emotion, and re- 
mained commonplace and conversational. 

"Agnes Hildebrand." 

"Oh, I must see — quick ! It was some old lover of hers." 

"Wait a minute ; the face isn't entirely faded. I recognize it." 

"Her face?" the girl whispered, aghast. 

Harnett bowed his head. 

"But it's wildly impossible !" 

"And the clothes — I searched them. In a coat pocket was some- 
thing you will recognize. Those who took the other valuables — if 
there were others, or if anything was taken — overlooked this. It is 
a watch. Look, it answers the description of your grandfather's 
gold time-piece, with the monogram 'S. A.' ; and here — " he opened 
the case — "a lock of brown hair, and again your grandmother's face. 
It was certainly the watch of Simon Leach Torpans." 

Agnes bent over Harnett's hand. "You found it in the clothes ?" 
she faltered. 

"Yes. Oh — but see ! I overlooked that slip of paper." He thrust 
the watch in her hand, and with nervous ague clutching him, opened 
the yellow note. " 'Deserted !' " he read aloud. "That's all of it." 

Agnes stared with eyes expressionless from intense emotion. 
"Oh, no ! no !" she suddenly cried. "It was some old lover ! It 
couldn't have been grandfather ! It was somebody who took these 
from his body, after he was killed in the battle !" Yet she dropped 
the watch, shudderingly, and Harnett let the paper flutter from his 
hand. 

"If he ran," the young man whispered, "and came here in despair 
and horror at himself? And — and died here? Or shot himself? 
But how did the watch — " 

He stopped, and the fright sprang into his eyes, while again 
Agnes clutched his hand, and again they fancied something in the 
cabin, near them, moving stumblingly, and finally reaching the door- 
way. Their nerves were strained to the utmost, when, in a sudden 
hush of the wind, again came the detonation, with its succeeding 
mental relief. 

Agnes found herself clinging to Harnett, while his arm protect- 
ingly encircled her. "Charley," she whimpered, clutching at the 
lapels of his coat ; "take me away. We didn't see or hear, and yet 
grandfather passed. Dear, leave the watch ; I want to think of you, 
you only. For God's sake, take me away from here !" 

Denver, Colo. 




301 
MISS DRURY— IRISH AGENT 

BY RAYMOND A. McCONNELL. 
HERE are two things that have bothered our Govern- 
ment incessantly in its dealings with the Indians. One 
of these is the eternal, infernal vigilance and industry 
of the whiskey sellers, who hover vulture-like around 
the reservations. The other is the indifference and the 
lack of vigilance of many of the men to whom the Government en- 
trusts the supervision of its charges. But Miss Drury was neither 
— that is, she neither lacked vigilance nor was she a man, and she 
was Irish. 

Of all this that I am telling you now, the bootleggers in San 
Bernardino have long been aware. To be sure, their sensitive noses 
had curled somewhat scornfully and they had jingled their hands in 
their pockets and ordered more "medicine" when the "damned fe- 
male" had been made the official whose power they should have 
feared. But that was some time ago. Now the sensitive noses are 
uncurled, the hands don't jingle much in the pockets, and the afore- 
mentioned female — well, she's the official whose power they fear. 

So when Miss Drury, who is a deputy constable as well as Indian 
agent, happened into San Bernardino with warrants for the arrest 
of six bootleggers against whom she and Big Jo, her faithful Indian 
officer, had secured evidence, she found, not unexpectedly, that the 
"high sign" had preceded her and there was "nothing doing" at any 
of the customary resorts — the desired men were all off on a vaca- 
tion. The last of the places she visited was a low-down dirty estab- 
lishment with an old blackboard out over the sidewalk, a relic of a 
score of winters and an eloquent witness of the destructive effects 
of water, bearing in faded letters the words "Pete's Saloon." Miss 
Drury dismounted and entered. A rather young man, clad in a very 
dirty apron, approached her respectfully — he knew her — and asked 
what he could do for her. 

"Is Mr. Jenkins" — Pete, that was — "about the place?" 

"No, lady, I'm very sorry — but you see Mister Jenkins 's gone 
oflF huntin' and I don't think he '11 be back for about a week. Sorry. 
Want to leave any word for me to give him ?" the young bar-keeper 
asked, winking slyly as he did so at a lounger in the corner when 
Miss Drury turned to Big Jo. 

"I'm sorry too," she said. "No, I won't leave my message. I 
must see the man himself. Jo, I guess we'll hunt him up. Where 
did you say he had gone?" she again asked, turning back towards 
her willing informant. 

"He went up on Gray Back. Said he was goin' to work the north 
side. Very likely you might find him at Lovell's place up there." 

"Thank you, I guess we can find him." Miss Drury went out 



302 OUT WEST 

and mounted her horse. Big Jo followed and the two rode off up 
the street. As they turned the corner a couple of blocks away, the 
door of Pete's saloon opened slightly and a rather old man with 
tobacco-stained mustache and whiskers stuck his head out and 
looked after them. 

"Yes, ye," he swore, "yell find me — an' I'll make an- 
other hunderd off 'n them cussed Injuns, while yer doin' it." Had 
Pete forgotten ? 

As soon as Miss Drury and Big Jo were well out of the city they 
turned their horses east and took the road to Banning. 

"Well, Jo, I guess we've got that one. We'll not only take the 
evidence this time, but we'll make sure of the men as well. They 
slipped us last time, but it's a pretty poor lesson that doesn't teach 
something. You get Juan and Carlos to-night. I'll have Mr. 
Brown and Constable Ben from Banning at the big tree on the trail 
above Highlands to-morrow evening. We must surely make a 
success of it this time — how about it, Jo?" 

"Might we could," answered the big fellow laconically. Miss 
Drury smiled, for that meant in better English that they would get 
their law-breakers unless Jo was put out of the fight. 

At seven o'clock the next evening, Jo and two other Indians 
stopped at the big tree, which Miss Drury had indicated. It was a 
lonesome place. The sage-brush and scrub oaks intensified the 
gloomy shadows of the twilight. A pale moon just peering over the 
top of the mountain seemed as yet undecided whether to lend its aid 
or not. But the officers, for the Indians were deputies, tied their 
horses in a small clearing and sat down. They had not long to 
wait, however, for in about ten minutes, horses could be heard com- 
ing rather slowly, as though to avoid overmuch racket. A moment 
later two men, Deputy-Sheriff Brown and Constable Ben of Ban- 
ning, and two women, Mrs. Hazel Warner, a friend whom Miss 
Drury had had sworn in as a deputy, and Miss Drury herself, dis- 
mounted. Very little talking was done until after the Indians had 
taken the four horses and tied them with their own. When they 
rejoined the party, Miss Drury explained her plan, and then the 
wait commenced. It might only be for a few minutes, it might be 
an hour, the leader said. At any rate they would have sufficient 
warning. The road, which was about a hundred yards up the slope 
from the tree, had long been unused except by these illicit dealers in 
drink, and as a consequence was pretty well grown up with weeds 
and brush. No wagon could come along there without the commo- 
tion being heard at a considerable distance. 

A half-hour passed, however, bringing no travelers. The men 
from Banning began to think they were wasting time. Another 
half-hour went by and Mrs. Warner spoke. 



MISS DRURY— IRISH AGENT 303 

"Clara, don't you think we are going to get fooled? I hardly 
think those men would risk coming on so slim a chance as you gave 
them." 

"They will be along tonight," answered Miss Drury. "I would 
think as you do, if it were not for one thing. Pete thinks he has at 
last got me on the wrong trail, and he will not fail to take advantage 
of his own trick." 

But in spite of her assurance, another long half-hour passed with 
no interruption of the quiet moonlit evening. The white men were 
pacing restlessly about and Mrs. Warner also was quite evidently 
tired of waiting ; but the Indians sat on the ground, calm and silent, 
watching Miss Drury, The latter, noticing the uneasiness of part 
of her retainers, only set her firm little Irish jaw more firmly and 
then spoke in short decisive words, 

"The wagons will be along by nine o'clock. Will you wait till 
then with me or not?" Of course, they all said they wouldn't think 
of leaving her there alone, and, as her intention of remaining under 
any consideration was quite clear, there was nothing to it but for 
them to stay. 

The minutes passed one after the other, however, and still there 
was no reward to the members of the party for their patience. Even 
Miss Drury began to doubt her judgment, and to think that after 
all she, and not Pete, was the one who had been outwitted. It 
was now about ten minutes before nine. Everything was quiet. 
Nighthawks were flitting here and there, now down towards the 
glittering lights in the valley, now up towards the black heights of 
the mountains. A rabbit hopped timidly out from the brush like a 
little shadow, and then disappeared. 

"Clara, I think — " One of the Indians, jumping up, interrupted 
Mrs. Warner. "Wagons, I hear," he said. Everyone listened. 
Sure enough they could hear the faint crackling of brush somewhere 
far down the road. 

Instantly the plan as arranged was put into execution. Mrs. 
Warner and Miss Drury, mounting the horses which Big Jo brought, 
rode out towards the lonely wagon-trail with the others following 
on foot. The men all hid themselves in the bushes beside the road, 
three on one side and two on the other. Nearer and nearer came 
the rattle of the wagon and the crackling of brush. Soon the tread 
of horses could be heard. 

"Ah. as I thought," whispered Miss Drury. "They are taking no 
chances of a surprise such as we gave them before." 

When the noise of the wagon wheels and the horses' hoofs seemed 
to indicate a distance of about a hundred or a hundred and fifty 
yards, the two women quietly turned their horses into the road and 
started to meet the approaching party. They had gone but a short 



304 OUT WEST 

distance, however, when the expected wagon appeared around a 
bend of the road, quite distinct in the bright moonhght. One man 
was driving the team and two others were riding horseback, one 
on each side of the wagon. The moon made all this quite clear for 
the deputies, but it also revealed to the bootleggers (for now there 
was no question as to their identity) the identity of at least one of 
the approaching women. 

Immediately the two horsemen spurred their animals into a dead 
gallop towards the women. The latter, as though startled by this 
sudden onslaught, turned their quick little pintos sharply. 

Back over the road they dashed desperately with a start on their 
pursuers of about fifty feet. The men gained on them rapidly. 
Another hundred yards and suddenly, after the women had dashed 
past the spot where the officers stood in hiding, they wheeled and 
reined in. 

"Hands up!" shouted Miss Drury, and the two men jerked their 
horses to their haunches as two revolvers faced them from the 
women's hands. As they did so ,two men sprang from each side 
of the road and seized the riders, a fifth man got the horses, and 
in a trice the action was over, the two animals were tied in the 
brush, the two men were prisoners. A minute later the driver 
of the precious wagon was also seated beside his comrades, tied 
hand and foot, and his team was turned in the direction from 
which it had come. When the officers were loading the prisoners 
on the hay that concealed the barrels of whiskey. Miss Drury 
scrutinized each one carefully. 

''Ah," she exclaimed, in a satisfied manner as the last one was 
dragged up, "I thought I would find you, Jenkins. I trust you have 
been enjoying your hunt." 

"You ." Pete started to curse the woman furiously, but 

Big Jo slapped his hand on the fellow's mouth and pitched him 
into the wagon with little ceremony. 

"I'll get you yet," he hissed from a rather uncomfortable posi- 
tion on the hay. His curses were only muttered, but it was quite 
evident he meant the woman as well as the Indian. 

The next day, in San Bernardino, the three men were bound 
over for trial on a clear case. 

Two years later Miss Drury was sitting in her little office in 
the reservation looking over an accumulation of mail, mostly official, 
when Big Jo entered and sat down without a word. He main- 
tained this silence until Miss Drury turned in her chair and asked 
him why he had come. 

"Something matter with Indians," he answered. "Jo think they 
got whiskey — not much, but some. They say they will go to San 
Bernardino tonight. If they do, then they raise hell." 



MISS DRURY— IRISH AGENT 305 

"Tut, Jo, don't say that," replied Miss Drury reprovingly. "But 
you're right," she added in a moment. "It will be bad if the boys 
go to San Bernardino. We can't tell where the mischief will end. 
They shan't go — we must stop them," she concluded emphatically. 

"Jo can't do no more — they only laugh at me," stolidly answered 
the big Indian. 

"Yes you can, if I help you." Miss Drury knew how to flatter 
Jo just enough to make him do anything she wanted. "Come 
back here at half past five." 

Jo left and Miss Drury sat down to study the situation over. It 
had been a long time since the Indians had been mutinous. The 
last time was when she had had so much trouble with Pete and 
his gang of bootleggers at San Bernardino. If Pete were not 
safely in San Quentin — but then he was. Since that gang had 
been broken up, no others had appeared willing to take the risk. 
But now it was more likely that some new brute wanted to match 
his wits with those of a mere woman for the great profits to be 
made in the devilish liquor traffic. This, too, was the general 
method of "working" the Indians. Get just enough whiskey to 
make them crazy for" more, and then put them up to leaving the 
reservation to get it. Oh, yes, she knew their tricks. Once 
matters had reached this point the superintendent would get but 
small aid from the Indians in keeping out the vile stuflf sold for 
whiskey. If only the effects of the drink would wear off a little 
before evening — it depended on how much they had had — then 
she might be able to calm them down and appeal to their better 
judgment to keep themselves out of trouble. If not — well, other 
methods would have to be employed. If matters were to come 
to a bad pass, she could count on about ten of the Indians on the 
reservation to stay by her. 

Promptly at five thirty Big Jo appeared at the open door and 
awaited his superior officers' orders. They were soon forthcoming 
in no undecided voice. 

"Get Juan and Carlos. You three go to all who have not been 
drinking who you think will help us, and have them wait in the 
gulch behind the schoolhouse. As soon as you get all you can, 
come and tell me." 

Jo started on his mission and Miss Drury herself went to see 
what she could do in the way of persuasion. As she expected, 
she found a group of the Indians at Dago Frank's wickiup, en- 
gaged in rather excited conversation. They all grew silent at 
her approach and would not look up. Yes, Jo was right. There 
was trouble brewing. 

She nodded to them in a friendly manner. "Hello, my men, 
have you just got in from work?" she asked pleasantly. 



306 OUT WEST 

"Indian don't have to work all the time," answered the half- 
breed sullenly. 

Miss Drury ignored this remark and continued, "I just came 
over to see if you men wouldn't help get up a barbecue tomorrow. 
It's been a good while since we've had one. Frank, you know 
better than anyone else how to get the beef cooked just right — I 
want you, for sure." 

This was tempting. Some of the men looked expectantly at 
Frank. He only tossed his head and his blood-shot eyes looked 
Miss Drury defiantly in the face. "We don't want the barbecue," 
he said. "We won't be here — we are going tonight to San Ber- 
nardino." 

"To San Bernardino!" exclaimed Miss Drury in well-feigned 
astonishment. "What do you want there? Now, see here," she 
went on, "you know if you go to San Bernardino you will lose 
all your hard-earned money, you will get drunk and maybe arrested, 
and then the government will be angry and more strict with you. 
Please don't go — you know the whiskey only does you harm. To- 
morrow or next day you will be sorry." 

"We going to San Bernardino tonight," reiterated Frank stub- 
bornly. 

"You are not going to San Bernardino tonight," Miss Drury 
said slowly and emphatically. "Frank, if you try to take these 
men away this evening, I'll have you arrested, and you other men, 
don't go unless you want trouble." With that she turned and left 
them. Other groups gathered from about the reservation were also 
evidently talking the matter over. There seemed to be about four 
or five like Dago Frank who, probably from having had more 
drink than the rest, were set on taking all the men with them. Miss 
Drury met about the same response from each of these that she 
had received from Frank. It seemed as though their plans had been 
well made and were not to be interrupted. Altogether there were 
about forty who were ready to do whatever their leaders did. 

As Miss Drury was walking back to the little room that served 
as her office while she was on the reservation, she met Jo. "Well ?" 
she asked. 

" 'Leven Indians down where you said. Jo makes twelve." 

"That's fine. Now, listen. If the men get ready to leave, you 
have one man as close as possible, without letting them suspect 
you, to Frank, Louis, Francisco, Big Fred and Jim. Then watch 
me. If I hold up my left hand, cover those men with revolvers. 
The rest of your party must watch the other men and have their 
guns ready. Only a few amongst them have revolvers. Can you 
handle them, do you think ?" 

"Might I could," answered the big fellow. 



MISS DRURY— IRISH AGENT 307 

At seven o'clock the break was just getting under way. There 
was an atmosphere of excitement in the whole village. Again 
Miss Drury rode around and spoke to many of her excited charges, 
but it had slight effect. They finally gathered in a prancing group 
and started. Miss Drury saw with satisfaction that her orders to 
Jo had been carefully obeyed. She rode out a short distance in 
front of the restless horses, and, reining in her own little pinto, 
turned towards the crowd. 

"Men, look here," she commanded in a loud, clear voice. "You 
are not to go one step from here tonight. If you go home now 
there will be no trouble. If you don't, you will all be punished." 

The sight of this determined little woman in front of them, and 
her words, had an effect on most of the rather cowardly bucks which 
would probably have caused them to obey her, had not Dago Frank, 
seeing their wavering decision, yelled to them in derision, "Old 
squaws, cowards, will you let a white woman order you around? 
Come on !" At this, they all started again. 

Immediately Miss Drury threw up her left hand. At the same 
instant five revolvers were pointed at the heads of the men she 
feared most. They stopped, taken utterly by surprise, and the fol- 
lowers fell back dismayed. 

"Tie them, Jo," she ordered, still keeping her position. 

A second later, as Jo commenced to rope Dago Frank, she saw 
a stranger step from a nearby wickiup and raise a revolver. There 
was the sharp crack of a shot, followed instantly by a second. Jo 
staggered, but kept his feet. At the second shot Miss Drury's left 
hand fell to her side limp and lifeless, but her own pistol flashed 
in her right hand, there were two reports in quick succession ; the 
stranger shrieked out a curse and fell. Miss Drury had hit her 
mark. 

Jo's helpers quickly got the arrested Indians tied, and the others, 
thoroughly frightened and sobered now, began to scatter. Miss 
Drury went to Jo. He had been hit in the shoulder, but was already 
walking over to the man who had suffered worst in the fray. She 
followed rather reluctantly. 

"Pete Jenkins," she immediately exclaimed! 

"Huh — old devil," said Jo. "Got us yet, did you?" 

But the "old devil" only groaned. He surely had made a mis- 
take. He had forgotten now for a second time two things : one, 
that the Indian agent was not a man, and the other, that she was 
Irish. 

Claremont, Cal. 




308 

'admission day address 

Address delivered on Admission Day, at Monterey, September 9, 1908. 
By JOHN F. DAVIS. 
|N NO more appropriate spot in California can the anniversary 
of the admission of the State into the Union be held than in 
that town where still stands Colton Hall. In no other place 
beneath Californian skies is there a greater wealth of romantic 
historic interest. Here, in 1602, the navigator Sebastian Viz- 
caino visited and took possession in the name of Philip HI of 
Spain, and Padre Ascension celebrated the mass under a spreading oak tree 
near the water's edge; here, on June 3, 1770, more than a century and a half 
afterward, Portala raised the Spanish standard and took possession in the 
name of Carlos HI of Spain, and on the same day. Father Junipero Serra, 
who accompanied the expedition, founded the Mission of San Carlos Bor- 
romeo, which he afterwards moved to Carmelo; here was the capital of Cali- 
fornia under the Spanish dominion until it ended with Governor Sola; here, 
on April g, 1822, the junta met, which passed the resolution of acquiescence 
in the government of the new republic, took the prescribed oath, and raised the 
flag of Mexico ; here, in November, 1836, the Hispano-Californian revolu- 
tionists under Alvarado took possession of the town, and declared the country 
a sovereign state, recognizing only a federation with Mexico, though they left 
the Mexican flag still floating; here, in 1842, Commodore Jones, on a false 
report that war had started with Mexico, entered the harbor, seized the port, 
and raised the American flag, and upon hearing that the report upon which 
he had acted was unfounded, hauled down the flag the next day, apologized 
and retired; here, in 1844, Thomas O. Larkin was appointed the first and 
the last American consul of the port; here, on July 7, 1846, Commodore Sloat 
raised the Stars and Stripes; here, in Colton Hall, assembled on September 
1st, and organized on September 3, 1849, the first constitutional convention — 
the convention which gave to California the constitution with which she came 
into the Union upon a day, the fifty-eighth anniversary of which we are cele- 
brating today. Here historic associations abound, and historic monuments 
abide. Even the landscape, in part, endures. 

"I love to go to Monterey," said General Vallejo in his old age, "for there 
I may yet find a little of the dear and almost obhterated past. There is yet 
the ocean that smiles for me as I approach, and venerable, bearded oaks, to 
which I raise my hat as I pass under them ; and there are streets still familiar, 
and houses not yet torn down, and streams and landscape which I may yet 
recognize as part of my former belongings. But, after all, these are only the 
unfabricated grave-gear that tell I am not yet dead." 

Such an environment is well calculated to arrest our attention, and to lead 
our thoughts afield. In the presence of these reminders of the past, vain- 
glorious praise of the present and roseate prophecies of the future seem alike 
out of place. May it not be well today, if, instead of dwelling upon the vast 
material and moral resources of the State, if, instead of singing the old song 
of the beauties and charm of "a land of sunshine, fruit and flowers," we try 
to ascertain what has been done to collect, preserve and diffuse information 
relating to the history of this commonwealth ; and, if we shall find that nothing 
adequate has been done, to inquire what intelligent action has eflfected along 
those lines in other sections of our country, and to dedicate ourselves to work 
toward the accomplishment of like results? 

The early history of the coast came as an oflf-shoot of a civilization whose 



ADMISSION DAY ADDRESS 309 

antiquity was already respectable. "A hundred years," says Hubert H. Ban- 
croft, "before John Smith saw the spot on which was planted Jamestown, or 
the English pilgrim placed foot on the rock of Plymouth, thousands from 
Spain had crossed the high sea, achieving mighty conquests, seizing large 
portions of the two Americas, and placing under tribute their peoples. They 
had built towns, worked mines, established plantations, and solved many of 
the problems attending European colonization in the new world." 

One of the truest of our modern critics has said : "We love manhood ; 
and the Spanish pioneering of the Americas was the largest, longest and 
most marvelous feat of manhood in all history." 

The past of California possesses a wealth of romantic interest, a variety of 
contrast, a novelty of resourcefulness and an intrinsic importance that en- 
thralls the imigination. 

It is not my purpose today — the time would not permit it — to review the 
diflFerent phases of California history. I do not intend to lay before your 
minds a vision of the twilight of romance in this State when it was "a mere 
field of cosmographic conjecture, its position, somewhere in the way from 
Mexico to India, being vaguely fixed by such bounds as Asia, the North Pole, 
Newfoundland and Florida, though that in itself is a story of deep interest. 
I shall not attempt to give you the interesting account of the hardship and 
high endeavor of the splendid band of navigators, beginning with Cabrillo in 
1543. who discovered, explored and reported on its bays, outlets, rivers and 
coast line, whose task was as desperate, and whose exploits as heroic, as any- 
thing accomplished by the Norsemen in Iceland, the discoverers of the Atlantic 
Coast, or the circumnavigators of the Cape of Good Hope. I do not desire 
to picture to you the decades of the pastoral life of the hacienda and its broad 
acres, though I trust the pen of some native Californian will yet depict the 
charm of the monotony, the hospitality and the liveliness of its social life. I 
do not intend to recall the miniature struggles of church and State, the many 
political controversies of the Mexican regime, or the play of plot and counter- 
plot that made up so much of its history "before the Gringo came." I shall 
not try to tell you the story of the discovery of gold and its world-thrilling 
incidents, nor of the hardship and courage of the emigrant trail, nor of the 
importance of the mission of the pathfinder and the excitement of the con- 
quest, each in itself an experience full to the brim, each varied, and each full 
of its local color. 

Let me rather call attention to three incidents of our history, ignoring all 
the rest, to enforce the point of its uniqueness, its variety, its novelty-, its im- 
portance, as entitling it to its proper proportionate place in the history of the 
nation. 

And first of all, the story of the Missions. The story of the Missions is 
the history of the beginning of the colonization of California. The Spanish 
government was desirous of providing its ships, on the return trip from 
Manila, with good harbors of supply and repairs, and was also desirous of 
promoting a settlement of the north as a safeguard against possible Russian 
aggression. The Franciscans, upon the expulsion of the Jesuits in 1767, had 
taken charge of the missions, and in their zeal for the conversion of the 
Indians, seconded the plans of the government. 

"The official purpose here, as in older mission undertakings," says Dr. 
Royce, "was a union of physical and spiritual conquest, soldiers under a mil- 
itary governor co-operating to this end with missionaries and mission estab- 
lishments. The natives were to be overcome by arms in so far as they might 
resist the conquerors, were to be attracted to the missions by peaceable meas- 



310. OUT WEST 

ures in so far as might prove possible, were to be instructed in the faith, and 
were to be kept for the present under the paternal rule of the clergy, until 
such time as they might be ready for a free life as Christian subjects. Mean- 
while, Spanish colonists were to be brought to the new land as circumstances 
might determine, and, to these, allotments of land were in some fashion to be 
made. No grants of land in a legal sense were made or promised to the 
mission establishments, whose position was to be merely that of spiritual insti- 
tutions, intrusted temporarily with the education of neophytes, and with the 
care of the property that should be given or hereafter produced for the 
purpose. On the other hand, if the government tended to regard the missions 
as purely subsidiary to its purposes, the outgoing missionaries to this strange 
land were so much the more certain to be quite uncorrupted by worldly am- 
bitions, by a hope of acquiring wealth, or by any intention to found a power- 
ful ecclesiastical government in the new colony. They went to save souls, and 
their motive was as single as it was worthy of reverence. In the sequel, the 
more successful missions of Upper California became, for a time, very 
wealthy; but this was only by virtue of the gifts of nature and of the devoted 
labors of the padres." 

Such a scheme of human effort is so unique and so in contradiction to all 
that obtains today, that it seems like a narrative from another wrorld. Fortu- 
nately, the annals of these missions, which ultimately extended from San 
Diego to beyond Sonoma, stepping-stones of civilization of this coast, are com- 
plete, and their simple disinterestedness and directness sound like a tale from 
Arcady. They were signally successful because those who conducted them 
were true to the trusteeship of their lives. The reason that their work has 
passed away, and that nothing is now left of them but a few monuments to 
mark their resting places, is because the peoples whom they subdued and 
civilized have themselves passed from these valleys and hills. It is a source 
of high satisfaction that there was here no record of over-reaching the simple 
natives, no failure to respect what rights they claimed, no carnage and blood- 
shed, that have so often attended expeditions sent nominally for civilization, 
but really for conquest. If the teeming acres are now otherwise tilled, and if 
the herds of cattle have passed away, and the communal life is gone forever, 
the records of what was accomplished in those pastoral days has immortalized 
the names of Salvatierra and Junipero Serra. In a sense, the work of 
these missions is now dead, dead as the Blue Laws of Connecticut, yet the 
memory of those days still remains to us as a legacy, and what monuments 
are left of them are being preserved by us and will be cherished by our 
children. As the fishermen off the coast of Brittany tell the legend that at 
the evening hour, as their boats pass over the vanished Atlantis, they can still 
hear the sounds of its activity at the bottom of the sea, so every Californian, 
as he turns the pages of the early history of his State, feels at times that he 
can hear the echo of the Angelus bell of the missions that are dead and gone, 
and amid the din of the money-madness of these later days, can find a response 
in the better angels of his nature. 

In swift contrast to this idyllic scene, which is shared with us by few other 
sections of this country, stands the history of a period where for more than 
two years this State was without authority of law, and where the only author- 
ity was such as sprang from the instinct of self-preservation. No more in- 
teresting phase of history in America can be presented than that which arose 
in California immediately after the discovery of gold, with reference to titles 
upon the pubHc domain. James W. Marshall made the discovery of gold in 
the race of a saw-mill at Coloma in the latter part of January, 1848. There- 



ADMISSION DAY ADDRESS 311 

upon took place an incident of history which demonstrated that Jason and 
his companions were not the only argonauts who ever made a voyage to un- 
known shores in search of a golden fleece. The first news of the discovery 
almost depopulated the towns and ranches of California, and even aflFected the 
discipline of the small army of occupation. The first winter brought thousands 
of Oregonians, Mexicans and Chileiios. The extraordinary reports that 
reached the East were at first disbelieved, but when the private letters of 
army officers and men in authority were published, an indescribable gold fever 
took possession of the nation east of the Alleghenies. All the energetic and 
daring, all the physically sound of all ages, seemed bent on reaching the new 
El Dorado. The old Gothic instinct of invasion seemed to survive and thrill 
in the fibre of our people, and the camps and gulches and mines of California 
witnessed a social and political phenomenon unique in the history of the world, 
the spirit and romance of which have been immortalized in the pages of Bret 
Harte. 

Before 1850 the population of California had risen from $15,000, as it was 
in 1847, to 100,000, and the annual average increase for six years thereafter 
was 50,000. The novelty of this situation produced in many minds the most 
marvelous development. "Every glance westward was met by a new ray of 
intelligence ; every drawn breath of western air brought inspiration ; every step 
taken was over an unknown field ; every experiment, every thought, every 
aspiration and act were original and individual 

At the time of Marshall's discovery the United States was still at war with 
Mexico, its sovereignty over the soil of California not yet recognized by the 
latter. The treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was not concluded until February 2d, 
the ratified copies thereof not exchanged at Queretaro till May 30th, and the 
treaty not proclaimed until July 4, 1848. On the 12th of February, 1848, ten 
days after the signing of the treaty of peace, and about three weeks after the 
discovery of gold at Coloma, Colonel Mason did the pioneers a signal service 
by issuing as Governor the proclamation concerning the mines, which at the 
time was taken as a finality and certainty as to the status of mining titles in 
their international aspect : "From and after this date," he said, "the Mexican 
laws and customs now prevailing in California, relative to the denouncement 
of mines, are hereby abolished." Although, as the law was fourteen years 
afterwards expounded by the United States Supreme Court, the act was un- 
necessary as a precautionary measure, still the practical result of the timeli- 
ness of the proclamation was to prevent attempts to found private titles to the 
new discovery of gold on any customs or laws of Mexico. 

Meantime, and in fact until her admission into the Union as a State, Cali- 
fornia was governed by military authority. Except to provide for the deliv- 
ering and taking of mails at certain points on the coast, no federal act was 
passed with reference to California in any relation ; in no Act of Congress 
was California even mentioned after its annexation, until the Act of March 
3, 1849, extending the revenue laws of the United States "over the territory 
and waters of Upper California, and to create certain collection districts 
therein." The act of March 3, 1849, not only did not extend the general laws 
of the United States over California, but did not even create a local tribunal 
for its enforcement, providing that the District Court of Louisiana, and the 
Supreme Court of Oregon should be courts of original jurisdiction to take 
cognizance of all violations of its provisions. Not even the Act of the 9th of 
September, 1850, admitting California into the Union, extended the general 
laws of the United States over the State by express provision. Not until the 
Act of September 28, 1850, establishing a district court in the State, was it 



312 OUT WEST 

enacted by Congress "that all the laws of the United States which are not 
locally inapplicable, shall have the same force and effect within the said State 
of California, as elsewhere within the United States." 

Though no general federal laws were extended by Congress over the late 
acquisitions from Mexico for more than two years after the end of the war, 
the paramount title to the public lands had vested in the federal government 
by virtue of the provisions of the treaty of peace; the public land itself had 
become part of the public domain of the United States. The army of occu- 
pation, however, offered no opposition to the invading army of prospectors. 
The miners were, in 1849, twenty years ahead of the railroad and the electric 
telegraph ; and the telephone had not yet been invented. In the parlance of 
the times, the prospectors "had the drop on the army." In Colonel Mason's 
unique report of the situation that confronted him, discretion waits upon 
valor. "The entire gold district," he wrote, "with few exceptions of grants 
made some years ago by the Mexican authorities, is on land belonging to the 
United States. It was a matter of serious reflection with me how I could 
secure to the government certain rents or fees for the privilege of procuring 
this gold ; but upon considering the large extent of the country, the character 
of the people engaged, and the small scattered force at my command, I am 
resolved not to interfere, but permit all to work freely." It is not recorded 
whether the resolute Colonel was conscious of the humor of his resolution. 

The prospectors and miners were, then, in the start, simply trespassers upon 
the public lands as against the government of the United States, with no laws 
to guide, restrain or protect them, and with nothing to fear from the military 
authorities. They were equal to the occasion. The instinct of organization 
was a part of their heredity. Professor Macy, of John Hopkins University, 
once wrote : "It has been said that if three Americans meet to talk over an 
item of business, the first thing they do is to organize." 

"Finding themselves far from the legal traditions and restraints of the set- 
tled East," says the report of the Public Lands Commission of 1880, "in a 
pathless wilderness, under the feverish excitement of an industry as swift and 
full of chance as the throwing of dice, the adventurers of 1849 spontaneously 
instituted neighborhood or district codes of regulations, which were simply 
meant to define and protest a brief possessory ownership. The ravines and 
river-bars which held the placer gold were valueless for settlement or home- 
making, but were splendid stakes to hold for a few short seasons and gamble 
with nature for wealth or ruin. 

"In the absence of State and Federal laws competent to meet the novel in- 
dustry, and with the inbred respect for equitable adjustments of rights be- 
tween man and man, which is the inheritance of centuries of English common 
law, the miners only sought to secure equitable rights and protection from 
robbery by a simple agreement as to the maximum size of a surface claim, 
trusting, with a well-founded confidence, that no machinery was necessary to 
enforce their regulations other than the swift, rough blows of public opinion. 
The gold-seekers were not long in realizing that the source of the dust which 
had worked its way into the sands and bars, and distributed its precious par- 
ticles over the bed-rocks of rivers, was derived from solid quartz veins, which 
were thin sheets of mineral material inclosed in the foundation rocks of the 
country. Still in advance of any enactments by legislature or congress, the 
common sense of the miners, which had proved strong enough to govern with 
wisdom the ownership of placer mines, rose to meet the question of lode 
claims, and sheet-like veins of quartz, and provided that a claim should consist 
of a certain horizontal block of the vein, however it might run, but extending 



ADMISSION DAY ADDRESS 313 

indefinitely downward, with a strip of surface on, or embracing, the vein's 
outcrop, for the placing of necessary machinery and buildings. Under this 
theory, the lode was the property, and the surface became a mere easement. 

"This early California theory of a mining claim, consisting of a certain 
number of running feet of vein with a strip of land covering the surface 
length of the claim, is the obvious foundation for the federal legislation and 
present system of public disposition and private ownership of the mineral lands 
west of the Missouri River. Contrasted with this is the mode of disposition 
of mineral-bearing lands east of the Missouri River, where the common law 
has been the one rule, and where the surface tract has always carried with it 
all minerals vertically below it. 

"The great coal, iron, copper, lead and zinc wealth east of the Rocky Moun- 
tains have all passed with the surface titles, and there can be Httle doubt that 
if California had been contiguous to the eastern metallic regions, and its 
mineral development progressed naturally with the advantage of home-making 
settlements, the power of common-law precedent would have governed its 
whole mining history. But California was one of those extraordinary historic 
exceptions that defy precedent and create original modes of life and law. And 
since the developers of the great precious metal mining of the far West have 
for the most part swarmed out of the California hive, California ideas have 
not only been everywhere dominant over the field of industry, but have 
stemmed the tide of federal land policy and given us a statute-book with Eng- 
lish common law in force over half the land and California common law 
ruling in the other." 

I have spoken of these two incidents, the one of the peaceable civilization 
of the missions, and the other of the strenuous life issuing in the adoption of 
the mining code, as illustrative incidents of the variety of California history. 
Let me speak of a third, directly connected with the day we celebrate. The 
delay incident to the admission of California into the Union as a State was 
precipitated by the tense struggle then raging in Congress between the North 
and the South, as to which should have the predominance of power. The 
destiny of the nation hung upon the result of that issue, and when California 
finally entered the Union, it came in as the sixteenth free State, and forever 
destroyed the equilibrium between the North and the South, which up to that 
time had been maintained. 

The struggle had been so prolonged, however, that the people upon this 
coast, far removed from the scene of it, and feeling more than all else 
that they were entitled to be protected by a system of laws, grew impa- 
tient. They met in legislative assembly and proclaimed : "It is the duty of 
the government of the United States to give us laws ; and when that duty 
is not performed, one of the clearest rights we have left is to govern our- 
selves." Far removed from the source of legal authority, with a life the 
most strenuous confronting them, without an army adequate to protect 
them or to enforce even its own commands against them, with the problems 
of a new empire confronting them, they did not hesitate. The first provi- 
sional government meeting was held in the pueblo of San Jose, December 
nth, 1848, and unanimously recommended that a general convention for 
the purpose of nominating a suitable candidate for governor and for such 
other business as might be deemed expedient, be held at the pueblo of 
San Jose on the 2d Monday in January following. At San Francisco, a 
similar provisional meeting was held and similar recommendations made, 
though the date of the proposed convention was fixed for the first Monday 
in March, 1848, and afterwards changed to the first Monday in August. 



314- OUT WEST 

The population of San Francisco was increasing so fast, however, that on 
February 12, 1849, the people of San Francisco in mass meeting assembled, 
established a temporary government for that district, under the name of 
the "Legislative Assembly of San Francisco," comprising fifteen members. 
General Bennet Riley arrived April 12th, 1849, on board the Iowa, and, 
relieving Colonel Mason, became the acting governor of California. While 
the Legislative Assembly of San Francisco recognized his military author- 
ity, in which capacity he was not formidable, it did not recognize his civil 
power. General Riley, however, with that rare diplomacy which seems 
to have attached to all federal military people when acting on the Pacific 
Coast, realizing that any organized government that proceeded from an 
orderly concourse of the people of the State, was preferable to the 
exasperating condition in which the community was left to face its in- 
creasing problems under Congressional inaction, himself issued a proclama- 
tion for a State Convention, which contained the following important pro- 
vision : "In order to complete this organization with the least possible 
delay, the undersigned, in virtue of the power in him vested, does hereby 
appoint the first of August next as the day for holding a special election 
for the delegates to a general convention, and for the filling of the offices 
of judges of the Supreme Court, prefects and sub-prefects, and all vacancies 
in the office of first alcade (or judge of first instance), alcade, justices of 
the peace and town councils. The general convention for forming a State 
constitution or plan for its territorial government will consist of thirty-seven 
delegates, who will meet at Monterey on the first of September next." While 
he condemned the actions of the Legislative Assembly of San Francisco as 
being illegal and without authority, he had the wisdom to recognize the 
fact that the people were inevitably bent on holding a State convention 
for the purpose of framing a constitution, and when he wisely issued his 
proclamation to the same end, the various assemblies, which had placed other 
conditions and fixed other dates and places for the holding of the same, 
gave way, and a general election was held under the provisions of Riley's 
proclamation. The delegates met in Monterey at Colton Hall, on the first 
of September and organized on the 3d of September, 1849. The convention 
was one of the keenest and most intelligent that ever assembled for the 
fulfillment of a legislative responsibility. Six of the delegates had resided 
in California less than six months, while only twenty-two, exclusive of the 
seven native Californians, had resided here for more than three years. 
The average age of all the delegates was 36 years. The debates of that 
convention should be familiar to every Son of this State. No Californian 
should be unfamiliar with the great debate on what was to constitute the 
boundary of the State of California, a debate on which turned the question 
of the slave power of this country, and which in the end almost wrecked the 
convention. The constitution adopted by this convention was ratified 
November 13, 1849, and at the same election an entire State and legislative 
ticket, with two representatives to Congress, was chosen. The senators 
and assemblymen-elect met in San Jose on December 15, 1849. On Decem- 
ber 20, 1849, the State government of California was established and Gov- 
State of California, and soon thereafter William M. Gwyn and John C 
Fremont were elected the first United States senators of the State of Cali- 
fornia. Notwithstanding the fact that there had never been any territorial 
form of government ; notwithstanding the fact that California was not yet 
admitted into the Union, these men were all elected as members of the State 
government, and the United States senators and members of Congress 



ADMISSION DAY ADDRESS 315 

started for Washington to help get the State admitted. Immediately upon 
the inauguration of Governor Burnett, Governor General Riley issued this 
remarkable 

"PROCLAMATION 
"To the People of California. 
"A new Executive having been elected and installed into office, 
in accordance with the provisions of the Constitution of the State, 
the undersigned hereby resigns his powers as Governor of Cali- 
fornia. In thus dissolving his official connection with the people 
of this country, he would tender to them his heartfelt thanks for 
their many kind attentions, and for the uniform support which 
they have given to the measures of his administration. The princi- 
pal object of all his wishes is now accomplished — the people have a 
government of their own choice, and one which, under the favor 
of divine Providence, will secure their own prosperity and happiness, 
and the permanent welfare of the new State. 

"Given at San Jose, California, this 20th day of December, A. D. 
1849. 
"Brevet Brig. Gen. U. S. A., and Governor of California. 

"B. RILEY, 
"By the Governor: W. H. Halleck, 
"Brevet Captain and Secretary of State." 
No matter what the legal objection to this course might be; notwithstand- 
ing the fact that Congress had passed no bill for the admission of California 
as a State into the Union, and might never pass one, California broke 
all precedents by declaring itself a State, and a free State at that, and sent 
its representatives to Washington to hurry up the passage of the bill which 
should admit it into the Union. The brilliant audacity of California's 
methods of admission into the Union, stands without parallel in the history 
of the nation. 

It is indefensible that in the face of incidents of our history such as these, 
sons and daughters of California should be ignorant of the lives and ex- 
periences of their fathers and of those who preceded them on this coast. 
The history of these experiences is part of the history of the nation, 
and the record of the achievements of the empire-builders of this coast 
is one that inspires civic pride and is a reverence for their memories. Some- 
thing should be done by their descendants that this story should not be 
unknown, simply because it is not known in the centers where our school 
histories are edited and printed. Why should every little unimportant detail 
of the petty incidents of the French and Indian wars, of Queen Anne's 
war, and King Philip's war, and Braddock's campaign, be crammed into 
the heads of children who have never heard the names of Portala? The 
beautiful story of Paul Revere's ride is known to every one, but how many 
know the story of invincible determination in the building of Ugarte's ship? 
William Penn's honest treatment of the Indians is a household word to 
people who would not know how to pronounce the name of Junipero Serra, 
if they saw it in print. The hardships of the New England pilgrims in 
the winter on the rock-bound coast of Massachusetts are not more pitiful 
than the fate of the emigrants at Donner Lake. The courtship of Miles 
Standish and Priscilla is embalmed in verse, and the tragic story of Rezanoflf. 
and Concepcion Argiiello is unheralded and unsung. Why remember Mar- 
quette and forget Salvatierra? Why herald the ridiculous attempt of 
Rhode Island to keep out of the Union, and not acclaim the splendid effort 
of California to break into it? 

When in all the ten volumes of Thomas B. Reed's magnificent collection 
entitled "Modern Eloquence," we find but one speech that was delivered 
in California, and while the senile vaporings of Chauncey Depew are printed 
in detail, the flaming eloquence of E. D. Baker is absolutely io^nored, and 
the only discourse reported of Thomas Starr King is one that he delivered 
in Boston, it is time for the descendants of the pioneers to ask themselves 
whether these things have all happened by accident, or whether the older 
commonwealths of this country have been moved by a pride in their history 
and in their traditions to take such measures for their preservation and 
for the promotion of their publication as to put us to shame. What have 
we of CTalifornia done to collect, preserve and diffuse information relating 
to the history of our State? And what have other commonwealths done? 
The California State Historical Society, first organized in 1852, and incor- 



316 OUT WEST 

porated in 1870, was in active existence from 1886 to 1893, and published 
some valuable historical material, including Father Palou's Noticias, Doyle's 
History of the Pious Fund, Willey's History of the College of California, 
and some interesting papers by Martin Kellogg, George Davidson, Bernard 
Moses, William Carey Jones and T. H. Hittell. From that time it has 
had no active existence. There has not been a meeting of its board of 
directors since 1893, and since then most of them have died. It has no 
maps and no manuscripts, and its little library of 500 printed volumes is 
stored away in San Francisco, in the basement cellar of the gentleman who 
is still nominally its president. It never owned a building in which to do 
its work, and never endowed, and to all intents and purposes, has been 
dead for fifteen years. 

When we look beyond the Rockies, however, we begin to appreciate the 
work that is being done by the State Historical Societies organized for the 
purpose of collecting, preserving and diffusing historical information con- 
cerning their respective States. The Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, 
Societies are prototypes of the privately organized and endowed organiza- 
tions of the Eastern States, which without official patronage have attained 
strength, dignity and a high degree of usefulness, while Wisconsin, Minne- 
sota, Iowa and Kansas similarly stand for the State-supported institutions 
of the West. Twelve societies or departments own their own halls — those 
valued at $100,000 or over being: Wisconsin, $610,000; Iowa, $400,000; Penn- 
sylvania, $300,000, and Massachusetts, $225,000. Thirteen are housed in their 
respective State Capitols, seven are quartered in State Universities, and 
six in other public buildings. The largest State appropriations are given 
to Wisconsin, $32,000; Minnesota, $20,000, and Iowa, $17,500. The Massa- 
chusetts, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin Societies are, of course, the wealth- 
iest in endowments, possessing respectively, $221,000, $170,000 and $53,000 
in vested funds. The largest libraries are: Pennsylvania, 315,000 titles; 
Wisconsin, 280,000; Massachusetts, 155,000; Kansas, 119,600, and New Hamp- 
shire, $93,500. 

Only a little less important, in degree, are a large number of historical 
societies which represent some town or section. For example : The Essex 
Institute of Salem, Massachusetts, with its income of $15,000, library of 400,- 
000 titles, and building valued at $75,000; New York (city) Historical 
Society, with 1057 members, endowment fund aggregating $236,000, yearly 
income of $12,800, and a building costing $400,000; the Chicago Historical 
Society, with a library of 100,000 titles, housed in a $185,000 building, and 
supported by endowment funds aggregating $96,000; the Long Island His- 
torical Society of Brooklyn, with 72,000 titles in its own building; the 
W^estern Reserve, of Cleveland, with 60,000 titles in a $55,000 building; the 
Worcester (Massachusetts) Society of Antiquities, housing 90,000 titles 
within a building valued at $50,000, and the Buffalo Historical Society, which 
has a library of 16,000 titles in a $200,000 building, and receives a munici- 
pal grant of $5000 and incidental expenses per annum. These are simply 
the most highly endowed. Every important town and city in the country 
is represented. In the State of Massachusetts alone, there are, besides its 
State Historical Society, thirty-six local historical societies, all of them 
alive and active and doing good work. The only local historical society 
that I know of in California is the Historical Society of Southern Cali- 
fornia in Los Angeles, with a membership (in 1905) of fifty, owning a 
library of 5000 books and pamphlets, and the Archaeological Institution of 
the Southwest, also of Los Angeles, which, however, is not exclusively an 
historical society. 

I submit to you, as patriotic Californians, whether this is a record in 
which we can take any pride. With the exception of the pitiful attempts 
of its loyal friends from time to time to revive the Cahfornia Historical 
Society, absolutely no organization work whatever has been done by any 
public institution to promote either the publication of California history or 
the collection of material therefor. With a history such as ours, with its 
halo of romance, with its peculiarity of incident, with its speech-making 
significance, is it not a burning shame that we have not long ago, either 
through private endowment or through public institutions, taken as much 
pride in the preservation of our history as our fathers did in the creation 
of it? Is it not time that societies like the Pioneers, the Native Sons 
of the Golden West and the Native Daughters of the Golden West, should 
combine and work together for the creation of a public sentiment which 



ADMISSION DAY ADDRESS 317 

will support and uphold any institution that will strive to perpetuate the 
record of the history of this great commonwealth? When we see what has 
been accomplished by these orders in promoting a sentiment for the pre- 
servation of the landmarks of our State, and the placing of tablets to com- 
memorate the location of great events, shall we not do all in our power 
to collect whatever material in the shape of maps or manuscripts or books, 
that tell the story of our State's history, and place them where they shall 
be preserved and catalogued and published, and see to it that the pub- 
lication of their contents shall be heralded abroad for the edification of 
others, as well as ourselves? In everything that we have undertaken, 
we have always succeeded — shall we fail in this duty simply because we 
do not care to try? 

The time is ripe for this work. Though there has been no organized 
eflFort on the part of the State, or of any community in the State, to rec- 
ognize the duty of collecting and preserving the priceless records of its 
historical growth, yet by an undeserved fortune, we have the nucleus of 
a library, which as far as the accuracy of the record of our history up to 
date is concerned, places us in a position of advantage even over the oldest 
States of this country. The fire which swept San Francisco in its early 
stages, did not reach the Bancroft hbrary, at the corner of Merchant and 
Montgomery streets. The fire that burned the building on Market street 
near Third, next door to the History building, missed the Bancroft library, 
and when it was moved to the building especially constructed for it at 
Valencia and Mission streets, the conflagration of the i8th of April, 1906, 
did not reach it. In this State it remained for a private individual by his 
life work, to collect and preserve a library that to the State of California 
is almost priceless in value. "There is no other State or country," it has 
been said, "whose historic data have been so thoroughly collected at so 
early a period in its existence, especially none whose existence has been 
so varied and eventful, and its record so complicated and perishable. Mr. 
Bancroft has attempted, and successfully, it is believed, to give to his 
country a work which in the ordinary course of events would have been 
left for a succession of historical societies and specialists to do in a later 
generation, after the largest part of the material had been lost, and the 
accomplishment of the purpose would be absolutely impossible." This mag- 
nificent library the State of California has recently purchased and installed 
in the California Building, at the State University in Berkeley. Without 
any desert of our own, therefore, we are in a position to start with the 
greatest nucleus of historical data that any commonwealth ever had. There 
remains the great work of cataloguing and publishing, rendering available 
to the investigation of scholarship this mass of original data. 

I care not what form the eflFort may take, whether through the endowment 
of private organization or of a public institution, or a combination of both. 
The point I desire to emphasize is that we should take, as an organization, 
a deep practical interest in this great work, whether in the form of the 
collection of material, or in the form of its publication, or in promoting 
public sentiment to sustain adequate public expenditure in that behalf, or 
in promoting such public sentiment as will compel the organization of city 
and town historical societies in the various communities throughout the 
State. 

Surely, in an organization founded to perpetuate the memory of the 
pioneers, this work would be in a direct line with the reason of its being. 
What we have not realized is that as it took conscious eflFort to create 
this history, it will also take conscious eflFort to see that it is given its 
proper place in the history of the country at large. A fuller realization of 
our duty shall serve but to quicken our sense of loyalty. This pilgrimage 
of our order to the historic shrines we see about us shall renew our devo- 
tion to the perpetuation of the traditions of the State. Our eyes have seen 
the house where Larkin lived, and the rose garden where Sherman kissed 
and rode away; our hands have touched the spot where Junipero Serra 
planted his cross ; our feet have pressed the aisles of Carmel Mission ; our 
voices have awakened the sacred echoes of the walls of Colton Hall ; our 
hearts have thrilled to see Old Glory waving above the old Custom House 
and to know that the flag that came down at Chapultepec remained here 
to float forever. These monuments ought not to stand in vain. Let us 
go hence with minds determined and hearts courageous to do our full share 
that the story told by them and others upon our broad domain shall be 
known ih all men and sink into the hearts of a grateful people. 




318 

THE SOUTHWEST SOCIETY 

Archaolo^ical Institute of America 

President, J. O. Koepfli. 
President Emeritus, J. S. Slauson. 
Vice-Presidents: Gen. Harrison Gray Otis, Editor Los Angeles Times; MaJ. 

B. W. Jones; Dr. Norman Bridge; Henry W. O'Melveny. 

Secretary, Ciias. F. Lummis. Executive Committee — Charles Cas- 

Treasurer, W. C. Patterson, Vice- satt Davis, Joseph Scott, Mary E. 

Prest. First National Bank of Los Foy, Wm. H. Burnham, John D. 

Ang-eles. Bicknell, James A. Foshay, Burt 

Recorder and Curator, Dr. F. M. Estes Howard, J. A. Munk, J. H. 

Palmer. Martindale, F. M. Palmer, James 

Slauson, Chas. F. Lummis. 
ADVISORY COUNCIL: 
The foregoing officers and 
Louis A. Dreyfus, Santa Barbara. Dr. J. H. McBrlde, Pasadena. 

Charles Amadon Moody, Los Angeles. Geo. W. Marston, San Diego. 
Walter R. Bacon, San Francisco. John G. North, Riverside. 

•HONORARY LIFE MEMBERS: Hon. Theodore Roosevelt, Washington; 
Chas. Eliot Norton, LL. D., Cambridge, Mass. 

♦By their consent, and subscribed by the Southwest Society. 

|HE work goes on "conquering and to conquer." The 
membership of the Southwest Society is steadily grow- 
ing and now stands at 427. This far exceeds the mem- 
bership of any other affihation of the Institute — but we 
ought to double it. 
Despite financial "slow times," the endowment of this great enter- 
prise climbs steadily — and more rapidly than could be expected 
anywhere else under any circumstances. The only real difficulty 
this far has been for the committees to find time to make the canvass 
for funds. This community is wonderfully willing to. give to such 
a cause — and it w^ll all have a chance. 

The purchase of the museum site is progressing admirably — 
though there is room for good citizens to contribute some $13,000 
more. The front sixteen acres is purchased and clinched ; the re- 
maining twenty-two acres (to cover the whole hill) is to be paid 
for on 'installments. Out of the $50,000 price of the site, $38,000 
has already been attended to ; leaving $12,000, and interest on de- 
ferred payments, still to be raised. 

Since the last announcement in these pages, the following sub- 
scriptions have been secured for this fund : 

Miss Mira Hershey $1000.00 J. M. C. Marble $ 100.00 

Dan Freeman 500.00 Remy J. Vesque, Terra 

M. A. Hamburger 500.00 Haute, Ind 100.00 

M. H. Newmark 250.00 Gen. H. G. Otis 300.00 

J. R. Newberry 250.00 J. M. Schneider 300.00 

Ella P. Hubbard 200.00 Robert Marsh & Co 50.00 

Clara B. Burdette 100.00 

"A Friend," who desires to be unnamed for the present, has (in 
September, 1908) added to his will a bequest of $5,000 to the 
Southwest Museum. "But that will do you no good just now," 
said he, "for I'm going to live a long time. I'll have to do some- 



THE SOUTHWEST SOCIETY 319 

thing for you at present." And he is arranging for a handsome 
donation to the endowment. 

Two of the most generous contributions in the whole history of 
the Society were secured during the month of August, 1908. Dr. 
J. A. Munk, of the Executive Committee of the Southwest Society, 
has devised to the Southwest Museum his library of Arizoniana, 
probably the most complete in existence ; and will deposit it in the 
new rooms at once. This is a gift of fully $10,000. 

And perhaps the handsomest gift yet made — since it represents 
imminent cash — is that of Mr. M. A. Hamburger on behalf of the 
Hamburger Realty & Trust Co. For about two years the Society 
has been paying rent, at first $92 per month, and latterly $75 per 
month — a generous reduction made by the Pacific Electric Ry. 
Co. in its building at Sixth and Main. Here the Society has main- 
tained for two years its work-rooms for the preparation and cata- 
loguing of its holdings, and a free public exhibit of the most inter- 
e.sting and the most valuable scientific collections west of Chicago. 

Mr. Hamlnirger has now donated attic quarters in the sixth story 
of the magnificent Hamburger lUiilding, at Eighth and Broadway, 
one of the largest and finest edifices in America, fire-proof, quake- 
proof and of nearly fourteen acres of floor-space — with ade(|uate 
work- and exhibit-room for two years. He had already donated 
$500 cash to the site fund, and had otherwise been most generous 
to the work. This gift of {|uarters (amounting to $3500 in rental) 
is most opportune for the Southwest Museum; and, quite aside 
from financial considerations, will unquestionably increase the in- 
terest in these exhibits. 

The Los Angeles Public Lil)rary (the largest west of Chicago, 
and the most used) occupies the third floor of the same building; 
and its great roof garden will be just above the Museum c|uarters. 
With proper co-operation between the Hamburger Store, the Public 
Library and the Museum, it is reasonable to assume that the visit- 
ation of the public to the museum exhibits will be increased many 
fold. More than 20,000 people a day already visit the Hamburger 
Building. Many of these will care to visit the Museum rooms. All 
that the work needs is to be seen. We are perfectly willing to let 
it stand on its own merits in such a community as this. 

The Society is represented not only in the Coimcil of the Institute, 
but also on the P)Oard of Managers of the School of American 
Archaeology. 

An active campaign for the general Endowment of the Southwest 
Museum will begin within a few days. A leaflet setting forth the 
nature of the work is just issued, and will be sent free to anyone, 
anywhere, on application. A direct canvass for this endowment 
(in cash, in collections, in real estate, etc.) will undoubtedly more 



320 OUT W ESI. 

than double within a year the large beginning that has been made. 
Few realize how much has been done ; but the assets of the Museum 
are already much more than $100,000 — and this has been gathered 
with very little notoriety and with no feverish crusades. The mem- 
bership already includes more than 400 of the foremost citizens of 
California and the Southwest. Among the latest acquisitions are 
the foremost mining engineer in the world, John Hays Hammond, 
and the dean of legal minds on the Coast, Chief Justice Beatty of 
the California Supreme Court. The enterprise is one which nat- 
urally engages every educated and public-spirited man or woman. 
In proportion to their means, it can count upon their support — for 
it is working for them and for their children, and for their love of 
this community, and of scholarship. 

The Third Bulletin of the Southwest Society, printed in May, 
1907, contains the roster of members of the Southwest Society at 
that time. Since then the following persons have been elected to 
membership : 

New members since Alay, 1907 to September 27, igo8: 
Hector Alliot; J. A. Anderson, Pres. L. A. Bar Assn., Ex.-Pres. Board 
Public Works; Horace H. Appel; Marshall W. Atwood, Vice-Pres. Copper 
Creek Mining Co.; Wm. H. Avery; Fred L. Baker, Pres. Baker Iron Works; 
Mrs. Mary H. Banning ; H. A. Barclay ; W. H. Beatty, Chief Justice Supreme 
Court, San Francisco; Mrs. Henry Graves Bennett, Pasadena; John D. Bick- 
nell; N. W. Blanchard, Santa Paula, Cal. ; Prof. H. E. Bolton. University of 
Texas, Austin, lex. ; H. J. Brainerd ; Herbert Brown, Editor Yuma Post, 
Yuma, Ariz. ; Julius A. Brown, Pres. Children's Home Society of Cal. ; 
Maj. F. R. Burnham,"Pasadena ; Rufus W. Burnham, Manager R. G. Dun & 
Co.; Sidney A. Butler, Pres. Butler W>;lsh Investment Assn.; Frederick D. 
Butterfield, Pres. L. A. Olive Growers' Assn. ; Mrs. Freeman R. Cady ; A. B. 
Cass, Pres. Home Telephone Co. ; W. C. Corwin, Imperial ; Lieut. Gen. Adna 
R. Chaffee, L. A. Board of Public Works; C. C. Chapman; Mrs. Geo. H» 
Curtis, Pasadena ; Ed. L. Doheny, Pres. Mexican Petroleum Co. ; Mrs. M. 
A. Drake, Franklin, N. H. ; Constance Goddard DuBois, Waterbury, .Conn. ; 
P. W. Ehlen, Orange ; J. M. Eshelman, Imperial ; F. J. Ganahl ; Hugh Gibson, 
Secretary American Legation, Honduras; Daniel Halladay, Santa Ana; John 
Hays Hammond, New York; Mrs. Ida Hancock, Pres. Rancho La Brea Oil 
Co.; Dr. E. G. Howard; Burt Estes Howard, Ph. D., Stanford University; 
Mrs. Clara F. Howes ; W. J. Hunsaker, Pres. City Club ; Geo. H. Hutton, 
Judge Superior Court, Dept.- 7 ; E. W. Jamison ; A. T. Jergins ; Elizabeth W. 
Johnson, Pasadena; Dr. Francis B. Kellogg; Bradner W. Lee; H. J. Lelande, 
City Clerk; Robert Mather, Pres. Rock Island Co., New York; John A. 
Merrill, Pres. Riverside Heights Co.; Dr. Chas. B. Nichols, Pres. Angelus 
Hospital Assn.; T. L. O'Brien; D. C. Pixle\% Orange; -Geo. W. Randall, 
Pres. L. A. Rubber Stamp Co. ; J. H. Reed, Riverside ; ]\Iiss E. B. Scripps, 
La Jolla, Cal.; Mrs. F. H. Seymour, Redondo ; Dr. A. M. Smith, Pomona; 
Dr. Edgar C. Smith ; Fred E. Smith ; Herbert W. Stanton ; Archibald Alex- 
ander Talmage, San Francisco ; William Thum, Pasadena ; Mrs. Iva E. Tutt ; 
Frank Walker, Manager Cal. Water Heater Co.; Lewis R. Works; F. J. 
Zeehandelaar, Sec'y Merchants" and Manufacturers' Association. 



321 



REDWOOD CITY. SAN MATEO COUNTY. 
CALIFORNIA 

Redwood City is the city of suburban homes and offers exceptional 
advantages to home builders. It adjoins the center of the commercial 
activity of the Pacific Coast, commuters being but 35 minutes from the 
heart of San Francisco with the choice of 22 trains daily; the best train 
service of any town on the San Francisco Peninsula. 

The Southern Pacific has recently purchased the Hanchett Franchises 
for a system of electric roads and in the near future interurban electric 
lines will be in operation as a necessity, not as a luxury. 

The climate of Redwood is unsurpassed. Lying between the Bay of 
San Francisco on the east and the Pacific Ocean on the west with tihe 
Santa Morena Range of mountains half way between and refreshed by 
the ocean zephyrs in the summer. Redwood City and its contiguous 




CaRNKGIK LiHKAKV, iHh IIiGH ANI> CikAMMAR SCHooi.r. u. RKI>\VOOD CiTV 

territory has an idea! business and home location from season tu season. 
Outdoor life within its confines is a pleasure every day in the year. 

Homes require Schools. In this respect Redwood City is fortunate. 
The public educational buildings consist of a Carnegie Library, Grammar 
schools and a High school second to none, credited to the State Univer- 
sity and the Leland Stanford Jr. University, the latter being oirly four 
miles distant. Thus pupils may live at home, should they so desire, dur- 
ing their entire school life. 

Redwood City extends a cordial welcome to all, cither as visitors, as 
seekers for homes, or to those seeking business opportunities. Land can 
be purchased at reasonable prices, either for business, for manufacturing 
purposes, homes, or for agriculture: within corporate limits an acre 
costing less than a lot in other towns or cities. Investigate now before 
metropolitan prices prevail. 



United States 

Post Orrice Money Orders 
and Grovernment Bonds 

Are bougkt largely for SAFETY. Building and Loan Association stock is 
bought Tor tne same reason — SAFETY — and also because it pays a kigKer rate ol 



interest. 



1 he Continental Building and Loan 
Association 

pays 6 per cent net per annum, payable semi-annually. 
WASHINGTON T>ODGE, ^President WILLIAM CORBIN, Secretary 

MARKET ^ CHURCH STS., SAN FRANCISCO, CALIF. 



NAVAJO BLANKETS 

AND INDIAN CURIOS AT AVHOLESALE 

I have more than 250 weavers in my employ, including the most skilful now 
living, and have taken the greatest pains to preserve the old colors, patterns, 
and weaves. Every blanket sold by me carries my personal guarantee of its 
quality. In dealing with me, you will get the very finest blankets at wholesale 
prices. I also handle the products of the Hopi (Moqui) Indians, buying them un- 
der contract with the trading posts at Keam's Canyon and Oraibi and selling 
them at wholesale. 

I have constantly a very fine selection of Navajo silverware and jewelry, 
Navajo "rubies" cut and uncut, peridots and native turquois. Also the choicest 
modern Moqui pottery, and a rare collection of prehistoric pottery. 



Write for my Catalogue 
and Price List 



J. L HUBBELL, '"■■"" Trade, 

Ganado, Apache Co., Arizona 




Maier Brewing Company's 

**Select" Beer 



XTOTED for its Age, 
Purity and Strength. 
All shipments by bottles or 
kegs promptly filled. Family 
trade a specialty. :: :: :: 



OFFICE AND BREWERY : 



440 Aliso Street, 

BOTH PHONES: 



Los Angeles 

Exchange 91 



A New Pattern of a Famous Brand 

The new and attractive Faneuil Pattern is one ol dignity and grace, its 
lines suggestive ol the Colonial. The quality and workmanship are typical of the 
high standard ol all ware stamped " 1847 ROGERS BROS. " 

At your dealer s. Write lor Catalogue X 39 showing this and other patterns. 

MERIDEN BRITANNIA CO., Merlden. Conn. 

(International Silver (.'u., SncceMor.) 

TMt FANEUII. PATTtRN 



"m 

ROGERS 
BROS: 




Silver Plate that Wears 



V^ 











SAN FERNANDO, CAL. 




1 


^ 




i^. 




The Ideal Spot for a Home 
The Finest Citrus Fruits in the World 

Are grown in the San Fernando Valley. 250,000 
acres of the most fertile soil in Southern Cali- ,^ 
fornia. on which is grown every product of the 

soil. For JelaileJ information of the opportunitle* 
offered, write to any of the following: 

R. P. Waite Markham & Dickersoo Stewart Fruit Co' 
Van Winkle Bro.. John T. Wilson Henry HoUye 
Mm. F. L. Boruff F. A. PoweU S. N.Lopez &Co. 


I i^rlri-.'^l 


4 -1 


li:::—- r:^S 


;^ 




( 


:eorge jr. school 





Designing 
Engraving 
Printing 



We Print the 
OUT WEST 
MAGAZINC 



Estimates 
Promptly 
Furnished 



WM. WOLFER 



A. M. DUNN 




Commercial, Book and Catalogue 



Printing and Binding 



637 So. Spring Street, Los Angeles 



CaUfornia Lands 



$10 PER ACRE 

Address 0-wr»ers, 



P. O. 



2150 "cres suitable for subdivision — 1500 acres 
under cultivation, all fenced 4'/2 miles from 
R. R. station and town. Telephone, electric 
power, etc. Hoas"s and all outbuildingrs, fine 
water, g'ood climate. For sale as a whole on 
easy terms. Excellent opportunity to make 
money or for colony tract. 
Bojc -495, OaKland, Cal. 




IN THE SAN BERNARDINO MOUNTAINS 

npHIS City is situated in a valley of great fertility, while the scenic beauties are unex- 
Of lied. Three transcontinental railroads enter the city and trolley lines lead to the 
mountains and to adjacent towns and communities. Here are located the great Santa Fe 
railroad shops, employing more than one thousand men, with a pay-roll amounting to $ 1 00,000 
per month. 1 he business men of the city very largely furnish the vast supplies for the min- 
ing districts in other parts of the county. ^ Arrowhead Hotel, Arrowhead Hot Springs, 
California, is easily reached by any train to San Bernardino, thence by trolley car direct to 
Arrowhead Hotel. ^ First chss schools public library and churches of nearly all denom- 
nations. ^ For Booklet and Further Information, Address 

SECRETARY BOARD OF TRADE, SAN BERNARDINO, CAL. 

or any of the following leading business firms: 
Stewart Hotel 
California State Bank 
Jones Bros., Kodak Supplies 
Draper & Dubbell, Real Estate, Insurance and 

Loans 
San Bernardino Realty Board 



Arrowhead Hotel 
David R. Glass, Business College 
Insurance, Loan and Land Company 
W. L. Vestal, Insurance and Real Estate 
Miller- McKenney-Lightfoot Company, Real Es- 
tate Brokers 




HOME/ 8/ 
MAIN 866 e 




127 WMTH ST^^SPM/t 



HEMET, CALIFORNIA 



An Ideal Place 
for a Home 



...SOIL... 

RICH DEEP 

SANDY LOAM 

AVater Supply 

One of the best in 
the entire south- 
west. 

NO SALOONS 

High and Grammar 
Schools. :: :: :: 



ftRGUSON INVESTMENT CO. 
or WILLIAM KINGHAM 

Hrmrt, Riverude Co., Cal. 




ORANGE GROVE, HEMET TRACT 



PRODUCTS: Potatoes, Alfalfa. Peanuts, Walnuts. Almonds, Berries: 
Citrus and Deciduous Fruits of All Kinds. 




San Diego 
California 



AMERICA'S FIRST 
PORT OF CALL 
ON THE PACIFIC 

San Diego Has 

The be«t climate in the world 
The best wat« supply in ihe west 
The best harbor on the Pacific Ocean 
The ideal site (or a home 

The Culgoa, one of the Evans Fleet loadinB supplies in San Diego Harbor. 

For informatioD address JOHN S. MILLS, Sec Cbamber of Cominerce, or any o( the following: 



Fimt NntionnI Bank 

J. (>. Leuilnhl, Ileal Entatr 

Freil'k KniiiMl Jt Cii.. iteal BMate 

O'Meail A MiMxIr, Krai Kntale 

Soulh .Sun IIIpko Inv. Cm. 

Soiithrrn TriiHt nnti SavinKa Bank 

H. Lynnell. Furnltnre 

Pavlflc Furn. & Shuw Caae Mtg. Co. 

Star Theatre 

Hitmeland Improvement Co. 



Cottage Realty Co. 

Gunn A Jan. er, Keal Estate 

KniMton iteally Co. 

M. Hall. KenI Bntate 

J. W. MaMler. Patent Broker 

HalMe>--Flmian Inv. Co. 

Star HullderH* Supply Co. 

Aetna SecnrltieM Co. 

J. A. Jaekaon, Real Ratate 



^PlS^Vaioma Tpii.et5?ap 



AX ACL 
DRUG STORES 



Occanside 




The Finest Home S>te and 

Pleasure Resort in San 

Die^o County 

THE SAN LUIS REY 
VALLEY 

Which is tributary to Ocean- 
side, IS a large, beautiful 
and fertile valley watered 
by the San Luis Key rivt r. 
Water in abundance is ob- 
tained from the underflow Rebuilding Corridors at 5an Luis Rey Mission 
of the river by means of wells and pumping plants. Large and small tracts can be 
bought at reasonable prices The land is adapted for fruits, vegetables, alfalfa, dairying 
and poultry raising. The San Luis Rey Mission is four miles from Oceanside in the val- 
ley and was founded in 1798. 

Finest quail and duck shooting in America. Auto road complete from Oceanside to 
San Diego. Write Board of Trade, ur the following: 



H. T. Blake, Hotel 

Griffen Hayes, Livery 

Oceanside Electric & Gas Co. 

P. J. Brannen, Hardware 

First National Banii of Oceanside 

Nicholls & Reid 

M. N. Casterline, Lumber and Hardware 



Wm. M. Pickle, Express and Drayage 

John GriflBn, Box 185 

Geo. E. Morris 

Chas. G. Borden & Co., Dry Goods and Shoes 

A. Walker, Boots and Shoes 

J. M. Jolley 

C. S. Libbey, Vice-President Bank of Oceanside 



l^e dwoo d 
City 



4^ 




COUNTY BUILDING, REDWOOD CITY 



THE county seat of San Mateo County. One of the oldest towns 
in California, yet one of the newest and most up-to-date. 
At the head of navigation on an arm of San Francisco Bay, and 
certain to become an important manufacturing center. 



For full particulars address an^ of the following: 



Cnrran Clark, Real Estate, 147 Main St., Redwood, 
or, Russ Bldg:., 235 Montgomery Street, San 
Francisco. 

Redwood City Commercial Bank. 



Redwood City Realty Co., Inc., Redwood City. 
Savings & Trust Co. of San Mateo County. 
Redwood City Lumber Co. 
Edw. F. Fitzpatrick, Attorney-at-Law. 



J 



The Reedley Country 

On the famous Kings River is in all points one of the most fertile in 
the San Joaquin Valley. Soil, water and sunsh ne combine to 
make it all that the most visionary booster can have imagined. 
The principal products are raisins, peaches, oranges, apricots, plums, berries, 
grain, and dairy products. 

The water system is the cheapest in the state outtlde of riparian rights. 
The annual cost of water under the district system, under which we operate, does 
not exceed 50 cents per acre. 

Ten acres in fruit is sufficient to maintain all the expense in keeping an ordi- 
nary family. Twenty acres in fruit is sufficient to maintain an ordinary family 
and hire all the work done, and spend a long vacation in the adjacent mountains, 
or on the seashore. Forty acres is sufficient to maintain the same family and to 
allow an annual deposit in the banks of $2500 to $3000, besides taking the outing. 
Good Schools, Churches, Roads, Telephones, rural deliveries, etc., etc. 

...REEDLEY... 

is the coming town in the San Joaquin Valley. It will be next to Fresno In size 
and commercial importance in a few years. It has three railroads, with ten pas- 
senger trains daily. It has two banks with their own buildings, and all lines of 
merchandise stores. The country and the town will bear thorough investigation. 
Come and see for yourself, or address 

SECRETARY CHAMBER OF COMMERCE, 
or any of the following: Reedley, Calif. 

Lyttn Land Co. Shaffer Broa. 

Stiniion-Wehb Co., Real Estate JeMMe Jnn«en, Jnnnen Water l^orka 

Reedley Land Cumpunr I. J. Perk, Lumber Dealer 




NOTICE!! 

If you're feeling well and do- 
ing well where you are don't 
move, but, if you're bound to 
move make a good move by 
moving to 

Corning, 
California 



SHIPPING ALMONDS, MAYWOOD COLONY, CORNING. CAL. 



which town contains about 2000 good American people, all of whom get enough to eat 
and wear, and find some time for recreation. Land is good. Price is low. Terms are 
easy. Climate is healthful. Water abundant. Whiskey scarce, the town being DRY. 
Good Schools, Churches, Stores and all modem things that go to make an up-to-date com- 
munity. Lots of free literature for distribution. Write to 



May^voMd Colony Co. 

W. N. \V iMon. Real Mutate 

J. E. KuKKleN, Mnywood Hotel 

W. K. ilayn, Attorney-nt-LavT 

W. Herbert Samson, May wood Colony 

Nuntery 
A. B. Aitken, Real Estate 



Richard R. Fri|>p, Innnrnnre Ai^ent 
CftrninK Lumber Co., HuililinK .Materials 
J. B. Benumont, Elephant Livery 
Chas. Cramer, Harness and Shoes 
The Diamond Match Co., Building: Mate- 
rials 
The Bank of Corning 



RamonaToIlet^oap eJiy^ 



EVERYWME.F?E 



MONTEREY 

CALIFORNIA 



VIEW FROM MONTEREY HEIGHTS SANITARIUM 



"K^ONTEREY Heights 

Sanitarium is situated 
in the best part of Monte- 
rey. Sheltered by the 
pines from the full force of the ocean breezes and yet having a magnificent view 
of the beautiful bay wh ch, while large enough to shelter the combined navies of 
the Atlantic and Pacific, is almost completely land locked. Monterey has the 
finest winter and summer climate in the United States. 

AN IDEAL HEALTH RESORT 



Lillie Sanatorium 

Merehantft Association 

Monterey County Gas & E^lectrlc Co. 

A. M. Aggeler, Grocer 

David Jacks Corporation 

WrisTlit & Gould. Real E:state 



F. M. Hilby, Drnegist 

Littlcfleld & Masengill, Eureka Stables 

F^rancis Doud 

Ellla Tliomas, Real Bstate 

Monterey New^s Co. 




UPIAND 




Business center of the great Ontario Colony, whicli lies in center of the great 
San Bernardino and Pomona Valley, 40 miles east of Los Angeles, traversed by 
Santa Fe, Salt Lake and S. P. Railroads. Upland is the north two-thirds of the 
Colony, greatly prosperous from its splendid orange and lemon groves. At its 
many packing houses many people are employed on pay-rolls that aggregate many 
thousand dollars annually contributing to the great prosperity of its banks and 
business houses of every kind, and contributing to the rapid growth of the town. 
With Cucamonga and the greater part of Ontario Colony tributary to its business 
and Ror.ial lifp TToland ip moBt Invitine for the business man or home roakeker. 

For Information and BooKlet Address Any of tHe Folio-wing 



Williams Bros., Planing: Mill and Con- 
^ tractors 

Geo. J. Cliilds Co., Real Estate 
Commercial Bank of Upland 
Ontarlo-Cucamonga Fruit Exchange 
Stewart Citrus Association 
Coll)orn Bros.' Upland Store 
H. C. Kennedy, Upland Cyclery 



J. T. Brown, Star Barber 
Atwood-Blakeslee Lumber Co. 
N. G. Pahl, Real Estate 
Gordon C. Day, Blacksmithing: 
Strachan Fruit Co. 
Joiinson & Brown, Groceries 
Upland News 



Help— All Kinds. See Hummel Bros. & Co., 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 




"SISKIYOU 

the GOLDEN" 

Ideal Climate 

Unrivaled Scenery 
Great Cattle Country 

Immense Pine Forests 
Rich in Minerals 
Lands Low in Price 

Splendid Farming Country 
Wonderful Fruit Country 
Excellent Schools 

Healthiest Section of the West 



For additional information booklets, maps, etc.. address T. J. NOLTON, Sec- 
retary of the Siskiyou County Chamber of Commerce, Yreka, Cal., or any of the 
following: 



Yrrkn Knilroail C«>. 

S<'<iH<>l«l & Herman Co., Furniture 

F. i,. Cohiirn. Att<»rney n( I^nw 

nird A Grant, Canh Grocem 

Avery'H DruK Store 

li. II. I^ee, Fruit and VeKetablea 



Frank W. Hooper, Attorney-Real Estate 

Auk. .Siininert, Meat Market 

Sittkiyou AbMtraet Co. 

Hamion & Harmon, Livery Stable 

Jan. K. Tapaeott, Attorney at Lntv 



LODI 




3 

r 



CALirORNIA 



Go Where You Will 



and you cannot find any better land 
than the rich alluvial sediment so 
around Lodi. It is the most pro- 
ductive grape growing center in 
America. Nearly one-half of the 
table grapes from California were 
shipped from Lodi. This section 
cannot be excelled in this of any 
State for substantial profits. The 
vineyards yield from four to six tons 
to the acre and the F ame Tokay 
grapes bring from $40 to $80 per 
ton. Peaches, Apricots, Plums, 
Olives, Almonds, Berries, etc., also 
yield satisfactory profits. 

BErORE DECIDING 

where to locate, send for our new 
booklet "Lodi." Address Lodi 
Board of Trade, Lodi, California. 



ANYVO THEATRICAL COLD CREAM 



prevents early wrinkles. It is not a freckle coatine ; it re- 
moyes them. ANYVO CO., 427 North Main St., Loa Ang-eles 




Porterville 

In the Early Orange Belt 

Tulare County, California 

Will have a dozen "talks" with Out West readers 
during the coming year. 

The returns of our thousands of acres of splendid 
orange orchards fully justify the acftivity in well-drilling 
pumping plant installation and new planting now in 
progress. 

Our new colonies offer inducements to men with 
small capital to care for other growers while their own are 
coming into bearing. Drop a line for "Pracftical results.'' 

Inquire of Chamber of Commerce, Porterville, Cal 



Any of the Following Will Supply Information 



Hall & Boiler, Real Estate 

Robt. H<»rbaeb. Write for Booklet 

A. J. DeLaney Co., Hardware, IStc. 

Porterville Lumber Co. 

Valley Grain & Warehouse Co. 

Wllko Mentx, Merchant 

Pioneer Land Co. 



Avery & Seybold, Real Estate 

First National Bank 

W^Illiams & Yonns Co. 

Orange Belt Laundry 

W^m. A. Sears Inv. Co. Booklet free 

Porterville Rochdale Co. 

W. E. Premo 




^ 



SANJOSE 



E FA M out 
SANTA CLARA VALLEY 

CALIFORNIA 

Fifty miles south from San Francisco. Population including immediate 
connect ng suburbs, 57,820 (City Directory Census). The Educational, 
Horlicu'tural, Scenic and Home Center of California. ^ Magnificent all- 
year-round climate. Stimulating, not enervating. ^ To learn the facts of 
this beautiful section of California, address Dept. B, 

San Jose Chamber of Commerce, San Jose, Cal. F.'ii?wiDf 



T. S. Montgomery & Son, Real Estate 

Hotel St. James 

The First National Bank of San Jose 

The Bank of San Jose, California 
Security $)tate Bank of San Jose 
Garden City Bank and Trust Co. 



Jos. H. Rucker &. Co., Real Estate, 

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E. A. & J. O. Hayes 
C. P. Anderson & Co., Real Estate 
A. C. Darby, Real Estate 
James A. Clayton & Co. (Inc.), Real 
Estate and InvestmentN 



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O. C. Abbott. Heal Eatate A Ina. 
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CALIFORNIA 

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In addition to the large 
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Hiifr A Williama Fnrnltnre Co. 
J. A. Rocha, Contractor & Builder 
N. T. McCIennon 
K. H. Poole & Co., Real Eatate 





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DVEMBER, 1908 AboVC the Clouds Vol. XXIX. No. 5 



UT WC5T 




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GOVERNMENT 



Irrigation now under con- 
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RED RIBBON BEER 

CONFORMS to the PURE FOOD LAW 



'T'HE Mathie Brewing Company offer $ 1 OOO 
for any one to prove that their beers in Purity and 
Quality are not the purest brewed. ^ Do you know 
that beer contains only about 3^ per cent of alcohol ? 
Beer is liquid bread — is the German saying. Used 
moderately, beer is not an intoxicant and is the purest of 
popular drinks. The best temperance drink is beer. 
Physicians prescribe beer for the weak as it makes strength. 
Beer ranks with milk as a blood and strength producer 
and contains little alcohol. ^ Our beers are sold in quarts 
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Home Cx. 9-42 



TCLCPMONESi 



Sunset East 66 



OUT ^A^KST 

A A^aga^^ine of the Old Pacific and tlie Ne^N?v 



CHAS. F. LUMMIS \ ^,. 

CHARLES AMADON MOODY \ ^<i^*c^^ 
SHARLOT M. HALL, Associate Editor 



AMONG THE STOCKHOLDERS AND CONTRIBUTORS ARE: 



DAVID STARR JORDAN 

President of Stanford University 
FREDERICK STARR 

Chicago University 
THEODORE M. HITTELL 

The Historian of California 
MARY HALLOCK FOOTE 

Author of "The Led-Horse Claim," etc. 
MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM 

Author of "Stories of the "Foothills" 
GRACE ELLERY CHANNING 

Author of "The Sister of a Saint," etc. 
ELLA HIGGINSON 

Author of "A Forest Orchid," etc. 
CHARLES WARREN STODDARD 

The Poet of the South Seas 
INA COOLBRITH 

Author of "Song from the Golden Gate," etc. 
EDWIN MARKHAM 

Author of "The Man with the Hoe" 
JOAQUIN MILLER 

The Poet of the Sierras 
BATTERMAN LINDSAY 
CHARLES FREDERICK HOLDER 

Author of "The Life of Agassiz," etc. 
CHAS. DWIGHT WILLARD 



CONSTANCE GODDARD DU BOIS 

Author of "The Shield of the Pleur de Lis" 
WILLIAM E. SMYTHE 
Author of "The Conquest of Arid America." 

WILLIAM KEITH 

The Greatest Western Painter 
CHARLES A. KEBLER 
GEO. PARKER WINSHIP 

The Historian of Coronado's Marches 
FREDERICK WEBB HODGE 

of the Smithsonian Institution, Washington 
GEO. HAMLIN FITCH 

Literary Editor S. F. Chronicle- 
ALEX. P. HARMER 

CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON OILMAN 
Author of "In This Our World" 
CHAS. HOWARD SHINN 

Author of "The Story of the Mine," etc. 
T. S. VAN DYKE 

Author of "Rod and Gun in California," etc. 
MARY AUSTIN 

Author of "The Land of Little Rain" 
L MAYNARD DIXON 
ELIZABETH AND JOSEPH GRINNELL 

Authors of "Our Feathered Friends'" 



Contents — November, 1908 

Above the Clouds, illustrated, by Josep-h N. Patterson 325 

A Red Parasol in Mexico, illustrated serial, by J. Torrey Connor }tZ7 

The Crab Ca'tchers of the Pacific Coast, illustrated, by Bonnycastle Dale 344 

Exploring the Nakimu Caves, illustrated, by James !Cooke Mills 349 

"Too Much Muc'hachos!" story, by Ernestine Winchell 362 

A Gypsy, poem, by Laura Mackay 370 

An Inferential Promise, story, by Kate Craven Turner 371 

F'ablo's Deer Hunt, a Pueblo Fairy Tale, by Chas. F. Lunimis 2>19 

Before Dawn in Chinatown, illustrated, by Charlton Lawrence Edholm 387 

The Sequoya League ^^^ 



Copyright 1908. Entered at the Los Angeles PoBtoffice as second-class matter, f See Publishers' Page) 



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Bmiley's Rubber Complexion Brush $ .^O 

Bailey's Rubber Massafce Roller .50 

Bailey's Bath and Shampoo Brush .75 

Bailey's Rubber Hath and Flesh Brush 1,00 

Bailey's Rubber Toilet Brush (small) . .25 

Bailey's Skin Food (large jar) .50 

Bailey's 

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Total Asseu 



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General Attorneys. 

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Meyer. Emil Rohte. Ign. Steinhart. I. N. Walter. J. 
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S. Goodfellow. 

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tween 21st and 22nd Street. For receipt and payment 
of Deposits only. 



Forest and Stream 

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ART DECORATIONS 
IN FULL COLORS 

TO READERS OF OUT" WEST 



To every reader of Out West who is interested in Nature — birds, animals and 
outdoor life — we shall be glad to send, without charge, the four beautiful 
Nature pictures shown here. They are printed on heavy paper, without let- 
tering, and usually retail in stores at 50 cents each. Framed at moderate 
cost they make excellent decorations for your home, or they can be used just 
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WHY W^E MAKE THIS OFFER 
We have arranged with Out West to use this space to announce our new 
Standard Library of Natural History. The Library contains 2,000 illustrations 
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NO OBLIGATIOIV WHATEVER 
Your request for the four pictures imposes no obligation to purchase the Library. 
We will forward the pictures, with a description of the books by mail. You will 
not be bothered by agents or canvassers. As an evidence of good faith, enclose 
10 cents [stamps or silver] for postage and wrapping. This will be refunded if 
you request il after examining the pictures. Mail the coupon promptly, 
as the supply of pictures is limited. 




'U/ye University Society 

78 Fifth Avenue. 
New York 



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Mail tHis Coxipon at Once 

THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY, 78 Fifih Avenue, New York. 

Please send me the fuur pictures you offer the readers of Out 
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understood that the sending of this coupon does not in any way 
bind me to buy anything. O. W. 11-8 

Nam e 

A ddress 



Booklov^s ShaKesp^are 

A SPLENDID BOOK INVESTMENT 

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THE EDITION fS? GENERAL READER 



Special Editorial 
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to thr 

imiikl.OVKRS KItlTION : 

1. ^rKunrnta, Ki»i"k: ■" 
I r •■ 111 outline of the st- ry 
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tint too much. 

i. Crilleal CoBBrnt*, se- I 
le< ted from the writln>ts of 
hr l)est-qualitiefJShakesi<ar- | 
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THE 

This edition is intended primarily for those biisy yet thoughtful people who 
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Vol. XXIX, No. 5 



NOVEMBER. 1908 




'above: thi: clouds 

By JOSEPH N. PATTERSON. 
T IS now the time of year, when the lover of the beau- 
tiful, and the tourist in search of a new senastion, by 
a trip of less than half a day to our near-by mountain 
tops, may actually gaze upon the silver lining of the 
under world's clouds, and look out over that inspiring 
scene of snowy loveliness, known as the "sea of fog." For those 
who have never stood above the billowy whiteness of these arctic- 
looking acres, spreading over land and sea as far as the eye can 
reach, the sight is one of the most impressive and beautiful in 
the range of things unattained. and is, without question, one of 
the most novel and satisfying experiences that can be attained with 
anything like the same small expenditure of time, money, and 
energy. 

As one stands on the lofty summit of Mt. Wilson "above the 
clouds," and in wonder and awe, feasts his eyes for the first 
time upon the endless expanse of frigid-looking clouds, reaching 
to the far-oflf horizon, he is lifted, as it were, into another world — 
the "frozen north" of the fur-robed Esquimaux and the dog-sled — 
and it is doubtful if the appearance of the latter upon the scene 
would occasion any surprise, so complete is the mental transpo- 
sition. 

This chilly feeling of sympathy with the Arctic pictures we 
have carried from earliest childhood in our memory, is the first 
sensation awakened in the mind of the onlooker, while the next 
is the thought of what is beneath the clouds — a forcing of the 
imagination to the realization that this before it is not a frozen 
ice field, but a curtain of fog, and a recalling to the memory of 
the totally different picture of the verdant valley, the burnished, 
glistening .surface of the far-away ocean, and the outspread build- 



Illustrations from photographs l)y Ferdinand Ellerman. of Carnegie Ob- 
servatory. 



CopvRicHT 1008 BY Out West MaoazincCo 



RiOHTS ncscnvcD 



ABOlli THE CLOUDS 329 

ings of the cities, which but yesterday, flashing in the sun, offered 
a pleasing panorama to the eye. 

As the sun's rays brighten this fluflfy-looking canopy of the 
hustling, bustling city beneath, one speculates on the value of an 
airship, with which to go sailing like a bird over this vast sea, 
or pictures himself on a pair of snow shoes striking out over that 
shining pathway toward the fiery glories of the setting sun. 

One wonders just how close the leaden-colored bottom of 
this beautiful floor is to the hurrying throngs of the city's streets, 
and whether it is drizzling upon these workers of the other world, 
or they are speaking of a "high fog," with not the slightest refer- 
ence to the sunshiny, mountain-capped world of brightness above 
the clouds. 

How many of those hurrying, ant-like creatures, miles beneath, 
the mind asks itself, ' have themselves been above the clouds, 
and, having been, stop to realize that it is not a leaden-colored 
sky they are living under, but only a flooring, stretched between 
the prosaic workshop and the theater beautiful, where nature's 
glories are playing for the eye of those who have been fortimate 
enough to gain admission. 

So much for the thoughts suggested by the novelty and mys- 
tery of looking down upon our clouds for the first time — of find- 
ing one's self in the novel position of standing above what he has 
been accustomed to walk beneath and look up at all his life 
since first, as a barefoot boy lying on his back among the clover 
blossoms, he pictured a menagerie of animals, and war-like hosts 
of fighters, out of the white banks hurrying overhead 

"Once seen, all seen," might be imagined as true of being 
above the clouds. But such is not the case, as there are many 
varying conditions, and one day is not apt to be any more like 
another than are two sunsets. 

The low fog of breakfast-time suggests chiefly the broad, level 
vastness of the ice-field or the calm ocean, though it resembles 
the latter in form only, and not in color. A sunri.se on this un- 
broken expanse of calmness is of a softness well worth seeing, 
and remembering. 

From Mt. Wilson, though the light of the rising sun is cast 
aslant the fog, it always comes up from behind the mountains to 
the .east, while in setting it sinks beneath the clouds. 

The fog ri.ses as the day advances and in the seasons of lighter 
fogs dissipates before the heat of the sun, showing the greenness 
of the valley as beneath a curtain at first, and later breaking into 
white patches, having the true shape of clouds, drifts about the 
distant mountains, or hangs over the cities. 

The heavier fogs hold together throughout the day, and ad- 



ABOl'E THE CLOUDS 335 

vancing steadily uj) the canons, outline the rugged pine and spruce 
trees in cold, white settings, creeping at last to the very feet of 
the onlooker, while the surrounding peaks loom up as islands in 
a vast ocean. 

Some mornings, when the air currents beneath are stronger, 
the first warm tints of the sun reveal great soft banks of silvery 
clouds, rising like icebergs, almost on a level with the eye. As 
the day advances, the fog, spurred on by the wind, will rise in 
beautiful geyser-like columns straight toward the heavens, from 
out the broad level of the sea, and then, as the whole rises in real 
fog effect, the canons will be filled with silvery, cold-looking mist ; 
the pine-clad profile of the sloping ridges and of Mr. Harvard 
looms boldly forth in black silhouette against the white; the suc- 
cessive elevations of more distant j\It. Lowe, Markham, and coni- 
cal San Gabriel are swallowed ; and the great banks of cloud, 
rolling and tossing like billows, slowly engulf all land in sight. 

.Again the playful air-currents will carry the cloud-banks 
and the veil-like curtains of whiteness hundreds of feet above the 
onlooker, in white outline against the blue dome of the heavens, 
while Mt. Wilson is left like a great amphitheater in the sunlight, 
causing one to realize most fully that he is among the clouds, 
where but a few moments previously he stood above them. 

One of the most entrancing eflPects is produced when the 
clouds, rising slowly throughout the day, and driven by the wind, 
will roll in immense billows of snowy flufiiness at evening, gath- 
ering new tints of gold and rose-colored loveliness, as the ruddy 
sun dips out of sight to the West. 

The fog alwavs has its inception to the South of Mt. Wikson, 
filling the great broad valley and extending out to, or over, the 
sea. but some of the most beautiful effects are to be enioyed when 
it flows into the back valley of the San Gabriel river's W^e.st Fork, 
to the North and East, and the canon of the Big Santa Anita to 
the East of Mt. Wilson. 

Combing over the connecting ridges in the thralls of the air 
currents, the fog forms waterfalls and rapids, and fills the valleys 
with silvery lakes and rivers. Looking from Echo Rock, perhaps 
the most artistic of all effects is obtained, when the long valley of 
the West Fork is white beneath the gigantic background of "Old 
I'aldy" and the San Gabriel range, and out of this and the lake 
in the Santa Anita caiion. directly under foot, rises the soft, vel- 
vety greenness of the Monrovia hills, close before one. 

.Another surprising i^icture appears when the even level of the real 
storm clouds overhead is curtaining the summits of the high back- 
range, with the fog underneath filling the valley ; while at other 
times, a thin white ribbon-like stratum hangs midway between the 
bed of the West Fork and the high mountain wall of the valley, 
canned by San .Antonio's ("Old Raldy") 10,000- foot peak. 

Thus, changeful and capricious in mood as a coquettish woman, 
one never knows what the fog is going to do next., when it plays 
among the mountains, nor ever tires of its pleasing vagaries. 

Mt. Wilson. Cal. 



337 




A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO 

By J. TORREY CONNOR 

A SLUMP IN SYNDICATES. 
XII. 

|T \V.\S feast nijj^ht in the City of Mexico, and 
at the Tivoh EH.seo the Spanish colony was cele- 
brating the Fiesta of Covadonga. 

Jn a far corner of the grounds a niihtary band 
blared and crashed throuj^h the martial pro- 
gramme; in another (|uartcr an orchestra of 
stringed nistruments. ranged in a circle with the 
maestro sitting in the center, furnished lighter 
and more graceful music for the dancers. 

Here and there were small groui)s of merry- 
makers surrounding some wandering minstrel, 
whose guitar, mandolin, or bandolin timed their 
steps while they clicked the castanuelas. and voci 
ferously chanted a chorus. 

Lights twinkled in the trees of the garden ; and in arboreal re- 
treats there was much feasting and drinking at small tables, the 
ready laughter bubbling and effervescing as freely as did the 
sidra, which flowed in never-ceasing streams. 

Where the electric light cast a white patch like moonlight, ju.-t 
inside the gate, a gypsyi.sh girl in yellow, with the rose of Castile 
in her dark locks, danced the jota with a youth as graceful as 
herself. The flash of bright eyes, the gleam of teeth, the sinuous 
twistings and turnings of the figures made a striking picture. So 
thought a fair Americana, whose brown eyes, opened to their 
widest extent, and whose berry-red lips, puckered continually in 
an () of surprise and pleasure, attracted many an admiring glance 
from the passers-by. 
"But, Lowell, she is so lovely. Let's .stop and watch her." 
"There are others," Lowell observed, with an airy disregard for 
steadiness of speech that would greatly have astonished his friend 
and admirer, the curator. "And besides," he continued, "it isn't 
proper that you should remain. The youth of the light fantastic 
toe is trying to flirt with you." 

Polly aflFected the liveliest interest in the dancer. 
"What eyes he has. Lowell, and what grace!" 
"Come! What will Aunt Zenia say?" 

"Say! Nothing at all. She doesn't know I'm on the face of 
the earth, at this present moment. All the afternoon she has 
looked at lue and smiled absently, and answered 'yes,' when she 
should have said 'no.' and " 



338 



our w ESI 



A bevy of dancers whirled across their path, showering confetti 
right and left. The tinted flakes eddied about the two promenaders, 
finding lodgement on the brims of their hats and in the folds of 
their clothing. A handful was flung into Weston's face by a saucy 
sprite who pranced ahead of him, laughing over her shoulder as 
she ran, and snapping her fingers in lieu of castanuclas. 

"Look, Pauline ! What eyes, what grace !" cried Weston. But 
Polly looked the other way and smiled. 

"Shall we go back to the kiosk f" he asked, after a moment's 
silence. 




Women of the Fountain 

"Oh, they will never miss us, Aunt Zenia and the doctor," said 
Polly, buoyantly. "They were in the sixth heaven, and by this 

time are anticipating the seventh. As for Zitella and Peter " 

There was a wistful droop to Polly's mouth. "Do you love me 
as much — " 

"More," answered Weston, promptly forestalling the c[uestion. 

"Lowell! you do love me? You dof Oh, I was afraid you 
didn't. I — you really do?" 

"Of course — more than words can express." 

"I don't see how you ever came to. I can't keep house, or sew on 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 



339 



buttons, or anything. But I'll try — I'll try to be wise, and noble, 
and fine — " 

The sentence was never finished. He had kissed her Hps. 

A half hour later Peter and Zitella flew into the vine-embowered 
kiosk where sat Aunt Zenia and Doctor Bolfon, Polly and the 
professor, officers and stockholders in the Lost City Syndicate. 
Weston and the father of Miss Zitella had gone forth, at the pro- 
fessor's suggestion, to discover if anything fit to eat was to be had. 

"El Presidcntc will be here in twenty minutes or so." Peter an- 




WoMKN OK THE Fountain 

nounced. "Better engage seats outside where you can see him. 
We — Zitella and I — have two engaged. We're engaged, too," he 
added, as an afterthought. Before the recipients of the informa- 
tion could offer their congratulations, the man and the maid had 
vanished into the night. 

"Dear old Peter!'' said Polly. "He thinks that's news!" 
"In the m — matter of n — n — n — of news," Doctor Bolton began, 
"I m — may s — say that Zenia and I could f — furnish a morsel — " 
"Elias!" Aunt Zenia reproved. "Is this a fitting time or place 
to — " 



340 OUT W EST 

"If there is one thing that 1 detest more than another," said 
the professor, peevishly, "it's mystery. Why, my dear Zenia, do 
you make all this fuss over the simple fact that you are engaged 
to the doctor? Of course you are engaged — " 

"You may tell them, Elias," Atint Zenia consented. 

"No, you t — t — t — tell them." 

"You couldn't guess in a thousand years what has happened !" 
Aunt Zenia announced. "He can carry out his plans — we shall 
carry them out together — " 

"He? Who? What plans? What are you talking about," the 
professor demanded. 

"Why — er — Doctor Bolton's plans. He is going with me to 
Kalamazoo ; and w^e shall establish there a medical spring and 
baths." 

"Oh!" said Polly. "How very nice! Is that all?" 

"Not — not quite. Doctor Bolton and I were married this morn- 
ing," the lady coyly confessed. 

"Married!'' cried Polly and the professor together. 

"Well, why not? I'm old enough to know^ my own mind. I sup- 
pose, and I guess Elias knows his." 

"Forgive me. Aunt Zenia!" said Polly, contritely. "I didn'r 
mean that, of course. I — you have taken us by surprise, and — 
your dress wasn't exactly bridal — now was it? Why didn't you 
put on something festal ? But it's too late for anything but kisses 
and congratulations, and best wishes for your future happiness." 

"This is a surprise,'' said the professor. "It certainly is. I con- 
gratulate you Bolton. Zenia is a first-class cook. Come outside 
and have a cigar. Perhaps the ladies would like to talk it over." 

"I didn't know — Elias had no idea — I'll tell you just how it 
was," Aunt Zenia volunteered as soon as they were alone. "We 
were on our way to the photograph-supply place on San Francisco 
street — I was so surprised to see Elias, this morning ; and when 
I mentioned that I was going to the photograph-supply place, he 
said he would go, too. Well, on San Francisco street — you know 
where the photograph-supply place is ? Xo ? It's oil San Francisco 
street and not more than three blocks away lives a Methodist par- 
son. We had gone about a block beyond, when Elias said : 
'Zenia — ' you can't imagine how it startled me to be called by my 
first name — 'Zenia, don't you want to get married?'" 

"What did you say?" 

" 'Depends on whether I'm asked,' I told him." 

"What did he say?'" 

" 'I asked you just now.' Those were his exact words." 

"And then?" 

"I said that I had often thought that he needed a helpmate, and 
that we would consider the matter closed. He wanted to go right 
back to the parson's house and be married. I didn't — er — oppose 
him, for you know how men are — so forgetful. He might not 
have remembered the circumstance — might never have mentioned 
it again. I rushed uo to my room to make a few changes in my 
toilet — couldn't find a blessed thing I wanted — and we went to 
the parson's and were married." 

Doctor Bolton had framed himself in the doorway of the kiosk, 
and was contentedly smoking his cigar. The profes.sor from a 
garden seat watched the passing and repassing of promenaders. 



A RED PARASOL IX MEXICO. 



341 




The Lauv ok tjie Mantilla 

I'luk-r the trees it was dark ; but an arc lamp flared suddenly 
iu the greenery overhead, and figures that were indistinct — drab 
shadows a moment since — became merrymakers, brightening the 
scene with the brave colors of holiday attire. A hand upflung 
tossed a rose to the lady of the mantilla. The tinkle of a guitar 
sounded from a neighboring balcony. A gallant somewhere in 
the throng began an impassioned love song ; and scores of voices 
took up the refrain. 

( )n the outskirts of the crowd were the women of the market 
squares, the jniblic fountain and the washing stones — daughters 
of the people — and their uovios, each in Hcsta bests. Voices called 
gay greetings ; laughter rang out. Life's cares had slipped from 
these grown-up children as a mantle slips from the shoulders. 

"This." said the professor, as he joined Doctor Bolton, "is a 
waste of valuable time — mere frivolity. It unsettles one for the 
serious things; and it is of things serious that I must be thinking." 

The two men entered the kiosk, and the professor spoke further: 



342 UT IV EST 

"I have not relinquished my purpose, not at all. The medal will 
yet be mine, I hope, for the Egyptian field offers endless oppor- 
tunities." 

"Kalamazoo will yet be proud of the name of Snodgrass," Aunt 
Zenia loyally asserted. 

"S — seems to me t — there's a sudden s — s — slump in syndicates," 
the doctor observed. "With you in Egypt, and w — w — w — and 
with Zenia and myself in Kalamazoo, w — what is t — t — t — what 
is to become of our venture ?" 

"As no certificates of stock have been issued, we can simply 
drop the matter," said the professor, easily. 

"There isn't a glass of Milwaukee beer nor a ham sandwich in 
the place," Mr. Cook, in the doorway, complained. 

"Nor time to order if we had found them," Weston supplement- 
ed. "It is rumored that the President is coming, and people are 
rushing to the front." 

"We 11 f — follow the crowd," said Doctor Bolton, taking a firm 
hold on Aunt Zenia's arm. 

"We may as well see the whole show while we are here," the 
professor chimed in, as he walked out with Mr. Cook. 

Polly looked at W^eston, who held a fold of her dress between 
thumb and forefinger. 

"Why, what — " she began. 

"Just to make sure you are here," he explained. "There's plenty 
of time." 

"Lowell ! You didn't — " 

"I did," he shamelessly declared. "Several matters of import- 
ance which I wish to discuss with you can only be discussed in 
private. First, I want to know when you intend to follow your 
aunt's example." 

"Who told you?'' 

"The doctor, this morning. He told Miss Zitella, and Mr. Cook, 
and Peter. Fm not sure, but I think he whispered it to the elevator 
boy and the policeman on the corner." 

"Peter is not shy," said Polly, laughing. "He proclaims his 
beatific state from the housetops. As for following Aunt Zenia's 
example — Fll have to think it over." 

Weston put out his hand, and Polly laid hers within it. 

"Unless I have hold of you I'm not able fully to believe in the 
realness of things," he informed her. "Yes, Peter is in a beatific 
state; and we too are happy, aren't we, dear?" 

"There isn't room in the cup of happiness for one drop more. 
I—" 

She stopped. Someone in an adjacent kiosk was singing La 
Golondrina to guitar accompaniment. 

"Does that remind you of our day on the Viga?" Weston asked. 

"I was wondering," said Polly, slowly, "Where I had heard it. 
<Now it brings back — everything." 

After a pause : 

"The afternoon at the cathedral — do you remember it?" 

"Do I? Dear! That was the day when the Princess came back 
to her own. Can't we slip away and go there by ourselves, 
Pauline ?" 

' '*Yes. And afterward — Do you suppose the hyacinths are still 
in bloom on the Viga?" 



A RED PARASOL IN MEXICO. 



343 




Thb Dancers 

"We'll go there first of all ! We will start early in the morning, 
when the market boats are coming down. Shall we lunch at Santa 
Anita, or Ixtacalco? Not that it really matters. Wherever you 
may be. that is Arcadia." 

"Are you superstitious. Lowell?'' 

The brown eyes with the curious dancing lights were upraised 
to his, and looking into them, Weston forgot to answer. 

"I believe that the little god — the God of Good Luck — had .some- 
thing to do with it." 

"1 feel sure of it. We'll hang his godship on a chain of fine 

"Are you two never coming.-' called Peter, at the door. "Hear 
the people shout: 'Viva El Presidcntc! Viva Porfirio Diad' " 

"It's something of a descent — from gods to presidents," said 
Weston, "but — Yes, Peter, we're coming." 

(THK END.) 




344 

THE CRAB CATCHERS OF THE PACIFIC 

COAST 

By BONNYCASTLE DALE. 
LL along the deeply penetrating arms of the sea, called 
canals, sounds and inlets, that bisect and cut up the 
rugged mountainous shore-line of British Columbia and 
the State of Washington, may be found numerous 
hardy sons of Sweden and Norway gathering a ready 
harvest from old ocean. In fact, much of the sea shore of the 
latter State is settled exclusively with men from these nations 
together with Icelanders and Danes, who find the cold provident 
seas of their own north countries- duplicated on this wonderfully 
prolific coast. In British Columbia we find many more Indians 
engaged in this hardy work, but they do not use the skill, nor the 
tools of the fair men of the North. In many of the small harbors 
with which the Island of Vancouver abounds will be found mem- 
bers of the decaying tribes — for, as usual, white-man's blood and 
whiskey and vices have decimated these tribes. The Indians use 
the spawning salmon, dead salmon, entrails, anything that comes 
handy, for bait, whereas the Swedes and Norwegians catch coarse 
fish for the baiting of their crab-pots. 

I have watched for days the unavailing eflforts of some of the 
Siawashes, as all the Coast tribes are locally called. The crab-pots 
are made of split cedar — clever work when well done, but most 

Photographs by the author. 




The Blue Crab 



'IHl- CRAH- CATCHERS Of THE PACIFIC COAST 345 

of them are too shallow. These are Hoated singly and marked 
with small wooden floats and are usually taken up on the same 
tide, or at least on the next. One Indian will have perhaps a dozen 
of these pots in a line, and a good catch in three dozen of big blue 
crabs. 

Of all the Crustaccac — those that wear their bones outside their 
flesh — this big edible crab is the sweetest, if taken at any time 
except during late July and August. Then they have left the deep 
pure salt water and are to be found on the shallows that are formed 
near the mouths of the river, spawning in the brackish water. The 
flesh is then slightly muddy, as a consequence of living on the flats. 
.All over the spawning grounds may be seen a moving host of Red 




A BoAT-i^OAD OF Crabs 

Crabs, Great lUue Crabs, Spider Crabs, Hermit Crabs, working 
along swiftly with the tide and scuttling away sideways as our 
canoe sweeps over. We have taken and eaten of the various kinds ; 
personally, I prefer the .soft-shelled crabs — tho.se that have lately 
cast their shell. .-Mthough the meat is not as full nor as firm, the 
flesh is very fine and delicate — but we have never become shell- 
fish eaters. Rumors say that the Swedes and Norsemen eat so 
])lentifully of this easily obtained food that "their stomachs rise and 
fall with the tide." This may be slander. 

I wandered into a little collection of beach-combers' huts be- 
side one of the numerous sounds. The captain with me was in 
search of a cook. He got one, as I will tell you later, and I got 
a rough study of the crab-catchers. 

This was a Swedish settlement. .AH of the houses were made 



346 OUT W EST 

of fldatsam. One had a full funnel of some shore-dashed steamer 
for a chimney. This house was piled about it in in wonderful 
disarray. It looked like some frantic Noah's Ark on a shore cruise. 
The doorstep was a bit of bulwark ; the walls were one-time cab- 
ins ; but to see a good porcelain bath-tub full of scuttling crabs 
was to laugh, so incongruous did it all seem. One beach-comber 
had a full set of life-lines and floats and life-preservers still stowed 
in the wrecked steamer's wire-doored closet — as if, should the house 
go adrift he was all ready to cast out his life saving devices. 

"I spak Englis," said my Swedish host. He cleaved to me 
in an entirely unnecessary manner, as he had just been tarring 
some crab-boats before he grasped my extended hand. 




One Kind ok Crab Pot 

Now here is the pot to use if you would catch crabs. He had 
bought a lot of three-eighths-inch iron rods, and had made a frame 
of them, two feet wide, three feet long and a foot and a half 
high. The rods were covered with well tarred heavy cord net- 
ting, of two-inch mesh. He made this himself. In the top was 
an opening that led down a netting funnel into the trap, just large 
enough for the crab to creep in ; and, as it was braced at its wire- 
strengthened mouth to all sides of the square trap, it was really 
suspended above the crab after it had dropped in. 

I went out in his big flat-bottomed boat with him while he cast 
for bait. It was so confused in the sound that I felt like sitting 
on a bucking horse. At any rate, the boat did not quite throw 
me out. We cast near the mouth of a little half-dry creek in 



THE CRAB -CATCHERS OF THE PACIFIC COAST 347 

quite deep water, using a sinking bag-purse net, floated at one 
end to a stout pile driven into the bottom. ' Rapidly rowing and 
sweeping ahead on the swells, we made the shingle and pulled in 
a miscellaneous collection of coarse fish, some flounders, many 
rat-fish, some crabs, a few shore-cod, a few sea-perch — none fit 
for market. It was midnight when we bucked home over the sea ; 
not all the water was slopping about in the boat now — after the 
manner of a sponge, my clothes had absorbed it. I, of course, 
slept dry and warm at a farm-house, but I strongly suspect that 
the tired Swede (good honest chap that he is, and I hope the "lit- 
tle Teenie" he is waiting for^I saw her picture, with a big tarry 
thumbmark on it — will soon come out to the little cabin bv the 




Thk Right Crak Pot 

Sound) slept in his damp clothes. Never mind, we were both 
cheerful as we pulled away from the hut next morning. There 
was a strong tide-rip, and even the stout boat plunged into it a 
bit. At the first line of traps the cedar buoy was not visible, car- 
ried under by the strength of the tide. So we rowed on two miles 
further and started at the far end. He had five rows of twenty 
pots out, all baited and cleaned out every forty-eight hours. Oh, 
this chap was a worker, clearing some fifteen dollars a day for 
his "little Teenie" — I bet she was a big Teenie, if I remember 
Swedish women aright. 

In comes the first big square pot, and clutching its sides and 
bottom were nine big blue crabs. All of them were dumped in 



348 



OUT WEST 




Measuring the Crab 

the bottom of the boat — how big and numerous my feet seemed — 
then the boat was half rowed, half pulled by the rope that sus- 
pended the traps and now crossed our gunwales, to the next pot. 
Some traps were filled, some were empty, and larger and larger 
grew the heap of great nipping crabs in the bottom of the boat 
and more numerous and apprehensive my feet and legs. 

It was a steady toil for both of us, as he had to bait the pot 
while I tried to keep the boat at the right spot against the strong 
tide. Soon we were off to the next location (they were all in about 
thirty feet of water at high tide) and at work as if our lives de- 
pended on it. By the time this was done I thought it was full 
time to row ashore and have our lunch. "I eat fen I got home," 
blasted my longings in the bud, yet he managed to snatch a bite 
from the lunch I divided with him, though we never ceased work- 
ing. It was four in the afternoon, eight hours after we started, 
before we headed home and he had nearly two hundred big, crawl- 
ing blue crabs in that boat. 



EXPLOKISG THE XAKIMU CAVES 349 

It was instructive to see him dart his h\^ tarry hand into the 
mass when he saw one nipping its fellow's claw — how he evadevl 
the clashing mass of nippers puzzles me still. Xo sooner had we 
landed than he towed a long floating set of boxes beside us, threw 
one on the rude floating platform and started to "sort." All the 
females were discarded — these can be told by the wide tail or 
"apron" — all of the males that did not measure seven inches across 
the back were thrown overboard, too, yet we had ten dozen mar- 
ketable crabs, worth $1.75 per dozen. These were encased in 
shipping boxes and floated in the salt water, ready for the steamer 
that would call next morning, and were worth $3.00 a dozen on 
the market next day. 

That night as I sat and watched him "resting" — he was rapidly 
knotting some more net.s — he told me of his rival that had gone as 
cook for my friend, the captain. "He cuk !" he told me." He 
shoot some squirrel and tried to pluk them ! Coot cuk on crab 
and devil fish. He mak bread and put big kup soda in — kuk like 
them mountains." 1 pitied my friend the captain. 

Next morning, as they were loading his last catch on to the 
steamer, I asked him to give me his address, that I might send 
him some copies of the pictures I had taken. "Yes. 1 hear your 
name but how do you spell it," I asked him. 

"R-e-r-we-re" — then he shook his head. "R-ye-r-e- rye — " 
more head shaking. "Can you write it?" I said in a hurry, for 
the boat was just on the point of starting and my baggage was 
on board. The big. kind face was perplexed, then the head was 
shaken. "Well. I'll tell you what I'll do." I cried back from the 
gang-plank. "Ill put one of your pictures outside and address it 
here." "Goot," he waved back — but the captain showed me a ship- 
ping receipt and saved me this novel way of addressing my kind 
friend, the Swedish crab-catcher. 

Victoria. B. C. 

EXPLORING THE NAUIMU CAVES 

By JAMES COOKIi MILLS. 
HERE is a little valley in the heart of the Selkirk 
Mountains, far above the summit of Rogers' Pass and 
enclosed by towering peaks and glistening glaciers, 
which has been appropriately named the \'alley of the 
Caves. For a distance of nearly a mile, and far be- 
neath the floor of the valley, the X'akimu caves honeycomb the 
strata of dark-blue limestone, and in almost a score of places the 
broken and dilapidated passage-ways lead to the surface. Some 
of the openings are mere cracks in the rocks, through which the 
explorer must wriggle and .squirm to effect an entrance. In other 




350 



OUT WEST 



places the caverns gape wide, with precipitous drops for a hundred 
feet or more to narrow ledges over which the subterranean tor- 
rents plunge to further depths, filling the vaulted space with their 
dull reverberating roar. 

The beautiful glaciated valley lies almost in the center of 
Glacier Park, which has been set apart by the Canadian govern- 
ment as a national reserve. It embraces the Great, or Illecillewaet, 
glacier, Mt. Sir Donald, and other lesser peaks, whose rough and 
rugged scenery more nearly approaches the Alpine type than any 
other in America. 

In its devious course through the Selkirts, the Canadian Pa- 




Camp on Mt. Cougar, May 30th 

cific railway reaches its summit near the base of the Great glacier; 
and at a most favorable scenic point on the line, which happens 
to be on a long loop along the base of Sir Donald, the railway 
has established Glacier station with its tourist hotel. The view 
from this high altitude in the Selkirks is most impressive, and fills 
the beholder with wonder and delight. On two sides the frown- 
ing steeps of Sir Donald and Mt. Cheops reach beyond the clouds. 
On the south, the vast face of the glacier presents a glittering 
front of ice from peak to peak, its head clouded in a filmy mist. 
So near is the huge mass, said to be fully a half mile in thick- 
ness, that its chilling breath is plainly perceptible. Its ice tongues 
feed numerous rivulets, which tumble down the mountain side 
and finally unite in the head waters of Illecillewaet river. To the 




Point IvOOkout at Entrance to Valley of the Caves. Illecillewaet 
Glacier in distance; Mt. Sir Donald to right 



352 OUT WEST 

west, the silvery course of the stream rushes onward, and the (Hs- 
tant peaks and snowfields show beyond but dimly. 

From the Glacier House as a base of supplies, the trip to the 
Valley of the Caves may be made in about four hours. The dis- 
tance is nearly six miles, and for the first four miles the explor- 
ing party has a choice of two trails. The one more frequently 
used leads along the south base of Mt. Cheops, through a magnifi- 
cent forest growth of Douglas fir, spruce and hemlock, to the 
mouth of Cougar creek. Here at the crossing of the railway, is 
a water-tank where the huge "battleships" refill their tanks after 
the long, steep pull up Ross peak. 

The slightly shorter route, sometimes used by explorers mak- 
ing ihe journey to the caves on foot, is along the railway for per- 




CouGAR Creek Pi^ungieg to Unknown Depths Within Cave 

haps two miles to a point where the steel-bound trail turns ofif in 
a broad loop, to find an easier grade. By clambering down a nar- 
row and rough path among jagged rocks, the exploring party 
again strikes the railway nearly a hundred feet below, the line 
above being almost overhead. After crossing the river the rail- 
way twists sharply to the west, and the other trail meets it there. 
For another mile the first trail is followed to the water-tank. 

Near by, on the edge of the creek, is the cabin of Charles H. 
Deutschman, the mountain habitant who discovered the caves in 
question, in May, and on October 22 following entered the little 
valley and the caves as a mineral claim. The work this intrepid 
mountaineer has done in exploring the underground waterways, 
in many instances unaided and without ladders, bridges or ropes. 



EXPLORING THE NAKIMU CAIES 



353 



.shows a character entirely devoid of fear. The descent into deep 
caverns and along narrow kdges above yawning chasms where the 
thick darkness is scarcely penetrated by the feeble rays of lan- 
terns, requires more than courage — it demands strength of pur- 
ix)se and power of will far beyond the ordinary. Huge crevasses 
had to be crossed and the subterranean .stream forded above pre- 
cipitous descents to the unknown, where a mis-step would have 
meant death. 

With Deutschman as guide, the exi)loring party, composed 
of Arthur ( ). Wheeler, topographer of the Domain; \V. S. Ayres, 
M. E.. an expert underground engineer; and .\. Johnston, editor 
of the kevelstoke Mail-Hcnild. on the morning of Alay 29th, made 
the a.scent of the lower vallev of Coujjar crock. It was a most 




In the "White Grotto" 

:ir(hu»us climb along the steep mountain side, over rocks and deep 
ruts, and through a tangle of logs and black alders. The trail 
was merely a narrow path, in .some places hardly accessible for 
a mountain goat. and. besides, heavy packs were carried, consist- 
ing of tents, blankets, jirovisions and camp appliances. 

The creek, through its entire course, is a wild moimtain tor- 
rent, leai)ing from boulder to boulder in swirls of foaming spray. 
.About a mile from the railway and 900 feet above it, the party 
came to a place where a mammoth spring wells up out of the bed 
of the creek, adding a considerable volume of water to the rush- 
ing stream. .Above this point the creek dwindles to a small trick- 
ling brook among the rocks, and it is evident that the spring in its 
bed is fed by the .subterranean torrents hurtling and dashing along 



354 OUT WEST 

within the caves. A Httle further on, where the giilley narrows 
between the deep ridges, the explorers were suddenly chilled by 
a fierce blast of wintry wind belching forth through narrow cracks 
in the rock strata, from somewhere in the interior of the moun- 
tain. Crossing the little stream, the trail swings to the left, and 
soon brings into view a beautiful waterfall, sixty feet high, which 
was named Goat Falls. The waters drop over the cliflf,and, instead 
of flowing away in a mountain rivulet to lower levels, they enter 
a cavity in the ground, where they fall, and disappear to unknown 
depths. A further climb of a few hundred feet brought the party 
to Point Lookout, a high projecting ledge of rock at the turn of 
the clifif to the north. This is the entrance to the Valley of the 




Entrance No. 1 to Mri,L Bridge Series 

Caves, beyond which the trail leads, in a mountain paradise, to cave 
entrances, within whose dark recesses and vaulted chambers are 
things weird and mysterious. 

The upper valley, extending from Point Lookout to Cougar Pass, 
is a most pronounced type of the "hanging valley," one that has 
been carved out by the eroding power of a glacier at one time filling 
its bottom ; and is quite different from the V-form of the lower 
valley, worn so by water erosion alone. The entire length of the 
upper valley is two-and-a-half miles, and the floor is on a com- 
paratively low grade. At one point it is covered for about a mile 
by a small lake-bed, in which some water lies during the summer. 

In all the Rockies, it would be difficult to find a more beautiful 
example of the Alpine valley. In every direction silver water- 



EXPLORING THE NAKIMU CAVES 355 

falls leap down the sides from the glaciers and melting snows of 
the surrounding peaks. These collect at the bottom of the valley 
in one central stream which bounds in foaming cascades to the 
little lake-bed, from which it rushes through luxurious meadow- 
lands in a second series of cascades that have worn down to bed- 
rock, showing a thin veneer of soil overlaying it. The alpine 
meadows and park-lands, as well as the open mountain slopes of 
the valley, throughout the spring and summer, are decked with 
a gorgeous array of flowers of varied hues, which, in places, are 
so profuse and brilliant that it seems as though nature had spread 
a carpet of rainbow colors for the delight and wonder of her visi- 
tors. In early spring, the giant Adder's Tongue covers whole 
acres with a brilliant yellow, these being the first flowers to push 
their heads up through the snow. Like all spring flowers in this 
region they follow the melting snows and may be found higher up 
in the valley as late as August. There is also the "Globe flower," 
a plant of much beauty and great wealth of blossom. Next come 
the scarlet and crimson Painters' Brush, showing everywhere in 
the open and on the lower slopes with a blaze of glory. Later 
still the blue Larkspur and purple and pink Asters replace the 
earlier flowers, while the crimson and yellow Monkey flower is 
found in the beds of the streams and where moisture is preva- 
lent. High up the valley and on the Alp-lands below the rocks are 
seen the False Heaths, and highest of all, the pink flowering moss, 
found in magnificently flowered bunches directly below the ice. 
There are many other species, more rare and just as beautiful in 
blossom, but not of such frequent or noticeable occurrence. 

The timber, in this upper valley, consists chiefly of spruce and 
balsam — trees which, at this elevation in the Selkirks, attain a 
grace and beauty that is not noticed in the more crowded areas 
of lower altitudes. Here they rise symmetrically to a great height, 
and their sweeping lower boughs form shaded canopies that are 
most inviting during the sultry summer days. As the head of the 
valley is approached, a short climb brings the explorer to the ice 
of several small glaciers where he may study with ease their forma- 
tion and action, look into miniature crevasses and see how moraines 
are formed by the downward flow of the ice. 

From a natural-history point of view, the upper valley is of 
especial interest, due in a great measure to the absence of visitors 
in the past. The Rocky Mountain goat may be seen frequently, 
and his tracks are everywhere along the heights. The grizzly bear 
and also the black bear are plentiful at the head of Bear creek, 
across Balco Pass ; and it is unlikely that they fail to visit Cougar 
valley — the valley of the Caves. Of the smaller animals, the hoary 
marmot, or whistler, is found in both the upper and lower valley. 



356 . OUT WEST 

and is seen in great numbers, larger in size and giving forth a louder 
and more shrill whistle than those in the main range of the Rockies. 
Say's squirrel and Pary's marmot are also found, and the Little 
Chief hare is frequently seen disporting itself among the rocks, 
and its comical antics and quaint squeak, resembling that of a toy 
rabbit, are very amusing. 

The birds are few and in the upper valley are confined chiefly to 
the ptarmigan, of which a flock may nearly always be seen, and 
the water-ousel, or dipper, a funny little dark-grey chap, who flits 
from stone to stone along the cascades and falls of the valley, con- 
tinually bobbing and dipping as though it were the object and aim 
of its existence. This bird has a very sweet note. Of other birds, 
the black-headed jay and the Rocky Mountain whiskey-jack, are 
the most noticeable. Taken as a whole, and quite independently 
of the attractions offered by the caves, this wonderful valley illus- 
trates in a marked degree the various phases of nature in the Sel- 
kirks — scenery, geology, natural history and botany. 

Following the natural rise of the valley toward the west, the 
principal glacier forming Cougar creek came in plain view. It was 
named Grizzly Glacier because a grizzly bear, only a few weeks 
before, came down over it into the valley and disputed with Deutsch- 
man his right to invade the sacred precincts of the animal kingdom. 
On a level grassy bench, on the north side of the creek, the camp 
was pitched, the magnificent assemblage of balsam firs with their 
spiral forms welcoming the party as stately hostesses. The after- 
noon was spent in taking views of the cave entrances from points 
of vantage, and in exploring the upper waters of Cougar creek. 
A mile and a half from the camp, through a narrow ravine with 
lofty peaks on either side, the party came upon the little lake, 
at this season of early summer still covered with a spotless counter- 
pane of snow, and fed by the glacier itself. On turning around to 
retrace their steps to the caves, a view of Mt. Sir Donald and the 
great glacier in the distance, and the valley up which the journey 
had just been made, greeted their eyes and can never be forgotten. 
Nearing the camp, two cascades were noticed, several hundred yards 
to the north, on the side of Mt. Ursus Major, which descend with 
many leaps and plunges to join the creek further on. The cas- 
cades were named "Whistler Falls," because of the great number 
of whistlers, hoary marmots, that have their burrows in the neigh- 
horbood. Three hundred feet below, the waters disappear in a cav- 
ernous opening, called the "Gopher Hole." 

That night there was a heavy fall of snow that decked the balsam 
firs about the camp and on the mountain sides with the most dainty 
crystal drapery. These perfect specimens of an exceedingly at- 
tractive tree range in age from 150 to 250 years, are tall and 



EXPLORING THE NAKIMU CAVES 357 

straight, and create a spicy fragrant atmosphere peculiarly their 
own. On the morning of the 30th the "Gopher Bridge" series of 
caves was first explored. The map shows these caves as lying 
immediately south of Whistler Falls. The first entrance, at the 
place marked "Old Channel," was eflfected by crawling through a 
narrow crack in the rocks, which opened into a small passage, which 
evidently, in bygone days, was the old bed of Cougar creek. An- 
other and larger opening was discovered about midway to the 
cavern, where the creek now drops from sight into a shallow hole. 
This entrance leads to passage-ways found to be rare specimens of 
nature's handiwork. They are water channels cut into solid rock 
with many round pot-holes in the floors and along the sides. The 
characteristic water-carved walls of white and grey marble are 
everywhere to be seen. In many places, however, the change of 
the limestone into marble is not complete. The parts of the rock 
not fully changed stand out as little knots or lumps, while the 
marble between them has been dissolved and eroded to an unusual 
degree, thus giving the walls a strange and weird appearance. 

Standing on a narrow ledge that overhangs a deep cavern of 
Stygian darkness, the explorers were attracted by a subterranean 
waterfall heard roaring on the left. The rays of acetylene bicycle- 
lamps disclosed the foam-flecked torrent tumbling down a steep 
mcline until lost in dense shadows. Overhead, fantastic spurs of 
rock reached out into the darkness and the entire surroundings 
were so unearthly and uncanny that it was easy to imagine Dante 
seated upon one of these spurs deriving impressions for his inferno. 
As the brilliant light of magnesium wire went out, the thick dark- 
ness was felt, and instinctively the explorer turned, half expecting 
to find Charon standing beside him. The subterranean stream, 
with its wild and magic confines, is strongly suggestive of the Styx, 
and incidentally supplied the name "Avernus" for the cavern of the 
waterfall. 

The creek has a tortuous course under the bridge, the first por- 
tion of it being inaccessible because of the low roof, the last portion 
because of the deep water in the creek. In the 450 feet of its 
underground course, the fall is only thirty feet, and by bridging 
the deep and swift portion of the creek, the party found it quite 
possible to form a continuous passage under the bridge. The exit 
of the creek, at the east end of Gopher bridge, is in a deep rock- 
cut, only eight or ten feet wide, through which the stream races in 
a series of cascades and falls for a distance of about 350 feet. It 
has been named "The Flume" because of its resemblance to a mill- 
race. At the lower end, the creek again disappears below the sur- 
face of the valley in a whirl of flying spray, and for 300 feet con- 
tinues its underground course under the "Mill Bridge" series. This 



358 OUT WEST 

name was suggested by the roar of the water as it rushes under- 
ground through the choked entrance, resembHng the noise made by 
the many swiftly revolving wheels and grinding gears of a big 
mill in full operation. About seventy feet further east a larger 
opening was discovered, which seemed to have been at one time 
the main entrance of the creek. Upon close examination, Mr. Ay res 
concluded that, as the rush of water cut deeper in the rock channel, 
it took advantage of a handy crack and gradually carved out for 
itself the opening where the full volume now descends. 

About the middle of the Flume, on the east side and thirty feet 
above it, is the entrance to the Mill Bridge series of caves, shown 
on the map as "Entrance No. 1." It is a mere cleft in the rock 
strata, and is hardly wide enough for the passage of a man's body. 
The length of this passageway was determined to be nearly or 
quite 400 feet, and the height varies from ten to twenty-five feet, 
while the width is from three to fifteen feet. At one place the pas- 
sageway twists in a loop where the pot-holes are of such curiously 
spiral form that the name "Corkscrew" was given it. Across this 
bend, about twelve feet above the main floor, a gallery extends 
for 120 feet. A little further on the party came to an irregularly 
shaped chamber, about sixty by seventy feet, v/ith a maximum 
height of twenty feet, which was named the "Auditorium." Cougar 
creek, in its flow beneath Mill bridge, passes through this chamber, 
and as it falls 75 feet in a distance of 200 feet from its entrance, 
the space is filled with its thundering roar; and by the faint day- 
light entering through its passageway the surroundings look dim 
and mysterious. The frosts of winter have penetrated this spot, 
and huge stalactites and stalagmites of ice form columnar groups 
beside the dashing waters and for some distance beyond. The slow 
process of disintegration has created much havoc in the Auditor- 
ium and the walls no longer show the marks of water erosion, 
while the floor is heaped with rock debris fallen from the ceiling. 
The adjoining passageways, however, are still intact, showing the 
power of water erosion in the series of pot-holes connecting one 
with another by short narrow passages. The bottom of each suc- 
ceeding pot-hole, receding from the entrance, is on a lower level, 
sometimes as much as ten or fifteen feet, and many hold water 
in the hollows to the depth of four or five feet. With the aid of 
a bridge carpenter sent by the resident engineer of the C. P. R., 
rough ladders were constructed and placed from floor to floor, and 
in one place the space was so wide and the water so deep as to nec- 
essitate a floating bridge. 

Cougar creek, having followed its twisting underground course 
under Mill bridge, finds an exit at the bottom of a narrow creek, or 
"Canon," and flows through this for nearly 250 feet to an abrupt 



EXPLORING THE NAKIMU CAVES 359 

wall of the ridge, where it again seeks its subterranean bed far 
below the surface. The Canon is eighty-five feet deep and its sides, 
almost perpendicular, are composed of badly shattered limestone, 
affording no easy descent to its bottom. To descend the rock-cut 
walls, with absolutely no foothold and rendered more dangerous 
by the winter's ice and snow, was a ticklish job ; and was only 
undertaken after Deutschman had made the slide down a knotted 
rope, hand under hand. The party finally reached the canon floor 
in safety, though Editor Johnston came very near providing a 
decided news item of a thrilling nature. 

The break in the north end of the Cafion, entrance No. 2 ,is a 
dome-shaped opening into which the stream tumbles with wild 
fury over a confusion of huge fragments of rock littering its bed. 
The entrance is fully thirty feet wide and about the same height, 
and the leaping plunging water, as seen from below within the cave, 
causes a dissemination of spray so that the opening to the outer 
world appeared through a luminous mist. This main cave com- 
prises the largest of all the underground openings thus far dis- 
covered, and very naturally so because of the additional waters 
entering it. The average height of the main channel way, meas- 
used on the dip of the strata, is about 100 feet, while the width, 
measured perpendicularly to the bedded faces, range from eight 
to twenty feet. The channel way is not of uniform width, as might 
be supposed, but varies with the conditions of flow of the water 
at the time of its formation. With all the water flowing through 
it on a steep grade, it would be narrow and with only a portion of 
it, the other portion running around some other way, it would also 
be narrow. It would be the widest where all the water passed 
through it and on a moderate grade. 

It was the conclusion of the engineers that during its early his- 
tory, it appeared much like the passageway in entrance number 1. 
But as the channelway grew deeper and wider, through centuries 
of erosion, many large masses of rock from the hanging wall were 
loosened and fell into the channelway, thus forming obstructions 
around which the water cut its way, and at the same time wore 
away some or all of them. As a result many enlarged chambers 
were discovered here and there, and still others were seen that had 
been formed by pot-holes, like rounded shafts down which the water 
poured, keeping boulders at their bottoms ceaselessly grinding them 
deeper and deeper. It was only a matter of time when, particularly 
at the confluence of streams, great masses of overhanging rock were 
unloosed and dropped in the great channelway and pot-holes. For 
these reasons the main caves have been named "The Ruined Aque- 
duct." In one place an enormous rock, resting in a nearly hori- 
zontal position, and its upper surface of about 1200 square feet, 
nearly filled a large chamber, and was named "The Ball-room." 



360 OUT WEST 

At the northeast corner of the Ball-room, a narrow passage 
leads to further wonders of nature in the subterranean depths. A 
sharp turn to the left brought the explorers to the present channel 
of Cougar creek, whose waters were there augmented by "Bear 
Falls," almost directly above and fully 400 feet. Continuing to 
the northward, they came to a sudden turn to the right beyond 
which the most ragged walls were seen that had yet been found 
in the caves. The jagged points and grotesque shapes at once in- 
spired caution, and the place was named "The Terror." The pe- 
culiar roughness of its walls and ceiling is accentuated by thin 
knife-like blades of the unchanged limestone, extending from one 
to two inches beyond the general surface of the marble holding 
them. Further south the passage leads to a much lower level, where 
"The Old Mill" ground for many centuries before it fell into ruin 
and disuse. It tells a long story in history from its grinding to 
the present-day erosion, probably more than 40,000 years. As it 
was getting late in the day, the party retraced their way through 
the Cafion entrance, and by the use of the knotted rope climbed 
to the floor of the valley and proceeded to camp for the night. 

The next morning the explorers found it necessary to break a 
path through the deep snow to Entrance No. 3. There, by crawling 
through a very narrow passage on hands and knees, and then de- 
scending a steep narrow water-groove for about fifty feet, the brink 
of a large cavern was reached that was estimated to be 256 feet 
deep, but its length and breadth were not determinable, owing to 
their great extent and to the insufficiency of lights at hand. It was 
very aptly named "The Pit," and the explorers noticed that sev- 
eral openings led off from it to the east. The plunge and roar 
of a great waterfall, somewhere down in the depths of this cavern, 
reverberated in every corner and nook of the cave and produced 
in the listener sensations so Vvcird and magical as to be unpleasantly 
startling. The rocks in the Pit are of a dark blue-grey color and 
have bands of white marble inserted in them which have been 
crumpled by pressure, giving the bands a zig-zag appearance. 

The easterly passage from the Pit joins the main channelway, 
which continues southeasterly for about one thousand feet, broken 
at intervals by side entries, some of which are full of wonders of 
nature's handiwork. About 200 feet from the Pit, a passage to 
the left exists that leads to the brink of a precipice, which was 
named "The Turbine." Across the chasm, at whose bottom flows 
the main stream, a number of water-spouts gush out of the rocks 
far below with great force and a noise, resembling that produced 
by water falling into the penstocks of a turbine. Nearly opposite, 
the floor and walls were found to be covered with an incrustation 
of carbonate of lime, varying in thickness from two to six inches. 



EXPLORING THE NAKIMU CAFES 361 

Jt is of a light creamy color, shading off in some places to a deli- 
cate salmon. The formation has a florescent appearance and re- 
sembles cauliflower heads set closely together. This particular 
spot was named the "Art Gallery." A dividing passage led to 
"The Dome," so named because of its perfect formation and great 
height. Further on, "The White Grotto" was reached, which 
proved a delight to the explorers on account of the curious and 
peculiar formation of its walls, all of a dazzling whiteness. From 
this place a low narrow passage continues to "The Bridal Chamber,'' 
the lime decorations of which are of the most delicate tracery. 
Here the caves end in a deep chasm inaccessible by any means at 
hand, and the party reluctantly returned through other parallel 
passageways to Entrance No. 3. In the afternoon they broke camp 
and returned to the Glacier House that night. 

The chasm at the end of the caves contains a frightful water- 
fall believed to be the main stream of Cougar creek, and as it is 
only 240 feet from the Wind Crack, referred to as being seen on the 
way up the valley, and is but 54 feet above it, it is safe to assume 
that there is a connection between. The wind issuing from the crack 
is probably caused by a water-blast in the chasm, due in some way 
to the falls of the creek above. 

It is the opinion of the engineers that the caves have been formed 
entirely by water erosion. The stream which formed it. Cougar 
creek, is entirely made up of glacier- and snow-water, and above 
the caves is free from any lime salts. Its capacity, therefore, to 
dissolve limestone when brought in contact with it, is at its maxi- 
mum. The fine grains of sharp sand loosened from the lime rock 
and caught in the swift current of the small stream that at first 
found its way through a shrinkage-crack of some particular bed 
of limestone, have undoubtedly given the water an uncommon 
erosive power, which, through the countless ages of the caves' his- 
tory, has enabled that mountain torrent to carve out a mammoth 
channel in solid marble. 

No evidence whatever was discovered that any portion of the 
caves had ever been used as a habitation by any human beings 
of a prehistoric race, or of tribes of Indians in later days ; nor were 
any traces found of wild animals, such as bears or wolves, having 
made their home within the recesses and vaulted chambers. 

Saginaw, Mich. 




362 

"TOO MUCH MUCHACHOS!" 

By ERNESTINE WINCHELL. 

lO S E P H U S MORENO BROWN-ESTABROOK 
WALLACE skipped down the cook-house steps with 
an agility and precipitation entirely unintentional, and 
that he took no pride in the performance was evident 
in the sheepish and furtive glance he sent hastily 
around. No, the woman whose long-handled meat-fork had been 
his moving impulse, and whose voice still berated him from the 
kitchen, had not followed after all, and the men at the mill, some 
fifty yards away, were busy and unobservant. 

He scurried round the building to the end that had no opening 
and leaned against the wall to recover his rudely shattered com- 
posure. He was a very forlorn, dejected — and hungry — old Indian 
indeed! Time was when an armful of wood and a polite request 
along about table-clearing time could be relied upon for a reason- 
able portion of food. But now, what a change ! This generation 
of saw-mill men and their cooks were a hard-hearted lot, completely 
indifferent to the feelings and necessities of an Indian. 

Leaning despondently against the wall, Josephus reflected with 
exceeding bitterness upon the gravity of his situation, but when a 
brown bottle, half concealed by a tree-root, caught his shifty, 
searching eye, he promptly shuffled over and picked it up. Not 
even a smell! He flung it aside in disgust — pyanna was to blame 
for it all, anyway. But for that seductive liquid he would now be 
eating a plentiful dinner instead of painfully sobering-up on a 
tired and empty stomach. 

The scrubby little glass-eyed dog that was almost a part of him 
was out of his sight, and at the recollection of him and his forag- 
ing abilities Josephus got in motion with a trace of animation in 
his manner. He found Smit busy with a promising-looking bone, 
and after much artful blandishment the dog was persuaded to de- 
liver his find; but the result of a careful examination was disap- 
pointing, and the Indian returned it with a sigh. 

His last resource gone, his last hope dead, Josephus turned into 
a familiar trail, and plodded along in the soft, black dust, impelled 
by hunger, depressed by thought of the scolding he so well de- 
served. All around towered lofty firs and cedars and sugar-pines, 
cutting the intense blue of the sky into jagged points, and from 
the palest heights the July sun showered its heat through the thin, 
ozonic air of the altitude half v/ay up the mighty, granite-hearted 
billows of the Sierras. But a Digger Indian's outlook is curiously 
refracted, and as the trail turned into the narrow strip of meadow, 
gold-green-carpeted, bronze-green-walled and turquoise-roofed, the 
one thought of Josephus was his internal discomfort. 



"TOO MUCH MUCHACHOSr 363 

At the upper end of the meadow stood the summer cabin of 
Abner Wallace, a retired saw -mill owner, for whom Josephus had 
worked after Brown and Estabrook went out of the sheep business, 
and who continued to protect the old Indian, so far as possible, 
from the consequences of his own intemperance and improvidence. 
The cabin was a good miles from the nearest campers and on an 
abandoned logging road, so when Josephus saw fresh wheel-tracks 
spun out before him his curiosity was stirred. 

In a few yards more it was satisfied, for he saw the extra stage 
come jogging down the meadow, covered with the yellow dust 
of the mountain grade, and with a woman and two very red-faced 
children as the only passengers. 

As he stood aside to let it pass, the driver slowed up and play- 
fully wrapped the little old fellow's legs with the long-lashed whip. 

"You've got comp-ny, 'Sephe," he announced. "I jest left one 
of the Wallace girls an' a wagon load of kids an' plunder up to 
the place. You better be gittin' a move on an' help 'em git fixed." 

Josephus waited for Smit to return from his frantic chase of the 
stage as it rolled away, and then they walked on more rapidly. 

Nearing the cabin, evidences of an arrival were soon plain — 
some boxes, a couple of trunks and a baby-carriage — and at the 
sight the old Indian began to take courage. Perhaps, in the ex- 
citement and pleasure of company, Mrs. Wallace would overlook 
the rags and rents he had accumulated in his recent dissipation, 
and have some consideration for his still more dilapidated feelings. 

A man plunged out of the front door, and seizing a trunk bore 
it within, leaping up the steps with the energy of vigorous youth 
and abounding strength — and the spirit of Josephus leaped to joy. 
He, old, hungry and weary, would not be required to work! 

However, one can never be too careful, so he went first to the 
wood pile and picking up the few cut sticks lying there he hobbled 
paintully to a position where he would soon be observed from the 
back door, and waited humbly, a trembling, pitiful embodiment 
of woe. 

In a moment a woman came to the threshold — a large, white- 
haired matron of benign countenance, who nevertheless frowned a 
little as she motioned him to the wood-box. When he straightened 
up from depositing the sticks, an operation he accomplished with 
visible effort and audible sighs, she swept a blighting glance over 
his tattered person and without a word re-entered the house. There 
was an agonizing period of suspense, and then she handed out to 
the Indian the generous meal he had waveringly expected. As he 
turned away with the plate in his hands, he heard her voice within 
the house, saying in sharp vexation : 

"I don't know what I'm going to do about that old 'Sephus ! 



364 OUT WEST 

He's been drunk again, and such a spectacle you never saw ! The 
most worthless, helpless, old " 

But her words were drowned in a burst of appreciative laughter 
in which she presently joined. And 'Sephus grinned contentedly 
as he absorbed the plate of food. 

Scarcely had he finished when he heard Mrs. Wallace calling 
to him — she had a disconcerting way of speaking suddenly from an 
open window — 

" 'Sephus ! The minute you have eaten, you go and change 
your clothes and put those to soak. And tomorrow you wash and 
cook them — do you hear?" 

"Me heah, mebbe-so," he replied reluctantly. What a price one 
must pay ! 

An hour later he emerged from his wickiup, astonishingly clean 
and cheerful, though the latter state he thought wise tc conceal 
as far as possible. 

At the door of the cabin a child was playing, and when she 
looked up at his approach his wrinkled old features brightened in 
spite of himself. She was a tiny creature — Marie, the Wallace 
baby, over again ! She had the same big brown eyes and dark 
curls, and the same bewitching little face. 

"Huh!" Josephus cried exultingly. "Hello, muchacha! Heap 
good baby!" He squatted on his heels and held out his black 
hands engagingly. It was nearly two years since he had seen her, 
then hardly able to walk, but he hoped she would remember him. 

"Go on, sweetheart," encouraged her grandmother from the 
doorway. "It's old 'Sephus. He's a good old Indian, and he loves 
babies." 

Smit thumped the ground with a reassuring tail, and with one 
eye on him and one on the Indian the child slowly advanced. 

"Marie! Frank!" Mrs. Wallace called laughingly. "Come and 
see Marjorie ! I do believe she is going to make up with 'Sephus !" 

But after a dozen hesitating steps she ran back and hid under 
her grandmother's apron. 

The Indian rose to his feet, and looked up, grinning widely in 
response to the kind, "Hello, 'Sephus !" of Mrs. Wallace's daughter, 
whose earliest babyhood he remembered as if it were but yester- 
day. 

He looked from her smiling face to that of a lovely, year-old 
babe in her arms and widened his joyful grin. 

"More muchacho!" he grunted in manifest approval. 

Beaming and chuckling, his eyes traveled to the stalwart, fair- 
haired fellow at her side and then dropped to the child he held 
so easily on one hand. From one baby to the other the Indian 
shifted his fascinated gaze, dnd the happy grin slowly faded. The 



"TOO MUCH MUCHACHOS!" 365 

rollicking little chaps were as like as replica cherubs, though one 
curly head was fair and one dark, and so well-grown and lusty 
that they were almost as big as the delicate Marjorie whom Mrs. 
Wallace now cradled on her breast. 

Continuing his puzzled inspection of the babies, the old Indian's 
countenance darkened as suspicion grew to conviction. Could it 
be possible that such a calamity had fallen, unaverted, upon this 
family that was his only pleasant refuge? Hoping for denial he 
pointed a shaking finger at one infant and then at the other, im- 
ploring Marie with his frightened little eyes. 

"You ?" he cried. "No you !" 

"Yes," laughted the young mother, "me! They're both mine!" 

"Huh!" groaned Josephus in quavering protest, "huh, too much 
muchachos!... Huh! No good!" 

Quaking with terror he turned about, and followed by the peal 
of undismayed and comprehending laughter, he dived into the 
wickiup, screened by the young pine thicket some ten paces away. 
He heard Mrs. Wallace say in answer to a question of the man : 

"Oh, the Indians think twins bring bad luck. It's amazing how 
superstitious they are. It is due to their great ignorance, no doubt." 

Then they all went back to the cabin, taking the bad luck with 
them, as Josephus saw by timorously peering out through a hole 
in his barley-sack curtain. How very little these white people knew 
after all! 

In a couple of days Marie's man departed with a party of other 
young fellows on a hunting trip to the higher mountains, and after 
the last pack-mule had passed from sight Josephus took stock of 
the wood-pile. There was a good supply of split sticks and his 
heart warmed a little to the unfortunate white-man, for his could 
lie low a few days longer to avoid the baleful influence of the twins. 
But the price he paid for security gave edge to his resentment of 
the necessity. Consumed by envy he would watch the conceited 
Smit devotedly submissive to Marjorie's little whims and exactions 
till he could bear it no longer; then, withdrawing from the observa- 
tion hole, he would elaborately anathematize the foolish, unrighteous 
negligence that had allowed the sun to rise upon twins. 

Jealousy of Smit and depletion of the wood-pile finally brought 
him from his seclusion in daylight — for only at night had he ven- 
tured to go for the food placed for him on a high shelf — but never 
for a moment did he neglect precaution to keep him from sight of 
the bringers of disaster. 

One end of the cabin looked through its single high window 
over a sunny stretch of meadow, and in a low chair, tilted against 
that wall and shaded by the great silver fir, Abner Wallace passed 
much time with his papers and books. 



366 OUT WEST 

And here the old Indian enjoyed the greatest happines that life 
could give him. For, after the babies had had their daily outing, 
he could take Marjorie in the carriage and wheel it importantly 
up and down the level sward, reveling in so much display for so 
little exertion and listening ecstatically to the child's twittering 
prattle, or, if she slept, to an entertaining creak in the parasol 
fastening. Sometimes with one of the elders they v/ould go for 
long, delightful walks where the road wound leisurely through 
the forest. 

On Sunday afternoon Mrs. Wallace called him from his wickiup. 

" 'Sephus," she said, "I want you to wheel the baby-carriage 
while we go for a walk." 

With all alacrity he followed, grinning complacently when he 
saw Marjorie coming down the steps in her white sunbonnet, and 
without hesitation he stepped toward the carriage. Horror! Two 
sweet, chubby, little faces smiled up at him from the shadow of the 
parasol ! Instantly he took flight. 

"'Come back, 'Sephus !" Mrs. Wallace commanded sharply. "What 
in the world is the matter with you?" 

"Too much tnuchachos! Malo! No good! 'Sephus heap sick !" 

The same foolish laughter as before ! And he heard the white 
woman say, as soon as she could speak : "I declare if I hadn't for- 
gotten all about that nonsense ! Well, Grandpa, I think you'll have 
to lend a hand if we take that walk." 

Early the next morning Maggie and 'Liza came as usual, and 
while they were picking up sticks ready to heat the wash-water, 
Josephus debated the relative duty between his race and his bene- 
factors. Certainty that the squaws v/ould soon discover the shadow 
on the family and inevitably take vengeance upon him for careless- 
ness of their fate finally decided him. 

After the three had talked together for a few minutes the squaws 
gathered their shawls about them and pattered away with soft 
exclamations and troubled, backward glances. 

When Mrs. Wallace came from the cabin — early because it was 
wash-day — she saw the little heap of sticks and the water-cans, 
and looked around for the Indian women. 

"You see mahala?" she asked of Josephus. 

He grunted a reluctant affirmative. 

"Well, where are they?" her surprise was changing to annoy- 
ance, and the old meddler trembled. He pointed down the road 
with his chin ; she looked, and a glimpse of bright color flashing 
among the trees confirmed his silent declaration. 

"What in the world " she began. Then, turning on him 

swiftly, she demanded, suspicion in her steady regard : "Josephus 
Moreno, why did they go?" 

The Indian shuffled apprehensively, but there was no help for 
it, so he explained briefly: 

"Too much muchachos !" 

"Well," she said severely after an interval of reflection, "3'ou 
walk right over there and put that water on to heat, yourself!" 

It was a hard, hard day for 'Sephus. Not even the bright silver 
dollar that Mrs. Wallace put in his hand at sun-dov/n repaid him 
for the distressing, humiliating round of carrying wood and water, 
of spreading clean clothes on the hazel-bushes, of emptying tubs 



k 



"TOO MUCH MUCHACHOSr 367 

and lifting baskets while she did the washing that Maggie and 
'Liza should have done. 

But all things have an end, and on the following day, completely 
absorbed in a game of horse with Marjorie and Smit as drivers, 
Josephus forgot trials and dangers alike till the child's shouts of 
delight at his ungainly antics were musically reinforced by a gurgle 
from the doorway. In dismay he saw the fair-haired boy leaning 
on the light barricade that had been built across the space to keep 
the children in. and while he looked the other little fellow joined 
him with a rush. There was a crash, the barricade broke under 
the impact and the twins, screaming and struggling, rolled down 
the steps. Marjorie added her frightened shrieks, and Josephus 
threw ofif his harness and fled. 

As soon as things were quiet again, the old Indian crept timidly 
back, urged by a shamed curiosity. 

Mr. Wallace looked at him over the top of his paper. 

*' 'Sephe," he remarked, calmly, "you're an old fool." 

The Indian betook himself to the wood-pile with a sniff and a 
groan. Of course, the careless white people would neglect golden 
opportunity ! No doubt they were even now doing every silly thing 
they knew to prolong the possession of this bad luck ! 

Two nights later Josephus was awakened by a commotion in 
the cabin ; the light was burning, the inmates were stirring about 
in haste and confusion, and he heard a sharp, shrill cough. After 
a while a peaceful silence seemed to settle down again, but the light 
still burned. In the morning the white faces looked tired, and Mr. 
Wallace said to him : 

"Muchachos plenty sick, 'Sephe." 

All that day, and the next, and the next, not a baby appeared. 

After noon of the fourth day Mr. Wallace, mounted on his sad- 
dle horse, rode around the cabin and paused at the wickiup. 

" 'Sephe, look here !" He spoke with a sharpness that startled 
the Indian and his mouth twitched nervously. "Muchachos heap 
sick. I go for medicine-man. You stay, pack wood and water. 
You no go away. You no get tight. You no go inside. You go 
inside, you get sick, too — maybe-so you die! Savvy?" 

Josephus stood erect, braced by unwonted responsibility. 

"Heap savvy!" he replied alertly. "What time you come?" 

"I don't know — tonight if I can. It looks like rain. 'Sephe, you 
get plenty wood. Adios!" 

On the little back porch the Indian heaped the dry sticks of wood 
and a bundle of red-pitch kindlings, and while he was arranging 
them he heard Mrs. Wallace saying in a troubled tone : 

"It certainly is the measles, Marie. There is no doubt about it 
in my mind. But the question is — where were they exposed ? Who 
was on the stage with you when you came up ?" 

"Oh. Mother! That was what ailed those children ! There were 
two children on the stage and they were terribly fretful and flushed, 
but I was so busy with all my babies that I did not pay much at- 
tention. Oh dear, why will people be so reckless ! And poor lit- 
tle Wallace is so sick! Oh, Mother, Mother!" 

Josephus felt a curious tightness in his throat, for, though he 
did not understand all the words, he did understand that cry of 



368 OUT WEST 

tortured mother-love. Had he not heard it time and time again 
in the rancherias ? 

A south wind was moaning through the pines by sundown, and 
the night closed in dark and overcast. Though it was the first 
week in August there was every promise of rain, and Josephus fell 
asleep picturing Mr. Wallace's difficult journey up nine miles of 
heavy mountain-grade in the darkness of a stormy night. 

When he awoke after a while, it was raining gently. In the 
cabin all was quiet, and the lamp burned dimly, as it had for a 
week. He was peacefully dozing again when a crash as of shat- 
tered glass, instantly followed by a glare of light, a roar, and the 
screams of women, terrified him into a cowering, abject heap. His 
first half-paralyzed thought was of lightning, but a look told him 
that the cabin was on fire within. 

The building of three rooms was constructed of dry pine boards, 
with draperies and thin window-curtains to add to its inflamma- 
bility, and the Indian knew that a very short time would reduce 
it to ashes. 

His terror had passed and he was cautiously approaching in 
placid curiosity when the door flew open and Mrs. Wallace rushed 
out, bearing in her arms a child wrapped in blankets, and followed 
by Marie carrying another. A shriek that chilled his blood broke 
from the young mother's lips as she felt the wet drops on her face. 

"Mother — it's raining! If I put Wallace down he'll get uncov- 
ered — and Wilson is in the cabin !" 

Josephus was in the doorway. "You go inside * * * mebbe-so 
you die !" Abner Wallace's warning hummed in his brain ; the 
flames crackled and roared — and a child's cry wailed in frightened 
appeal from an inner room. Stooping low he ran toward the sound, 
rolled the baby in the covers and stumbled out with the burden, 
choking and gasping for breath. 

"Oh, 'Sephus, 'Sephus !" Marie sobbed in a passion of thankful- 
ness. 

Then the three stood silently watching the little building blaze 
and crumble till it presently fell to a bed of glowing coals. 

Now that all were safe, Marie was calm and brave, but she 
staggered under the weight of the restless sick child in her arms. 
Wrapped about with the covers from their beds the children were 
heavy and hard to hold, and the Indian thought of the wickiup as 
a shelter for them — but that, too, was burning. 

So Jesephus carefully pulled the blanket close around his charge, 
shifted disconsolately to the other foot, and waited. It was a mile 
of mountain-trail to the nearest habitation and he wondered what 
the white woman would do. 

Mrs. Wallace herself seemed daunted by their plight, but after a 
little she began, with resolute cheerfulness in her voice : 

"Marie, you're not strong enough to carry that heavy child to 
Blake's even if we could find the way in this pitch dark — hush, 
sweetheart ; Grandma will sit down in a minute. Be a good girl. 
'Sephus, don't you let a drop of this cold rain get on that boy ! 
Well, well, if this isn't a fix may I never live to see one ! What- 
ever do you suppose made that lamp explode? Marie, you're 
breaking to pieces before my very eyes ! We'll just sit down here 
imder this fir tree — it keeps some of the rain off — and that pile of 



"TOO MUCH MUCHACHCr^Ml2^1^1^>^ 369 

coals will prevent our freezing, anyway. Perhaps your father will 
come soon." 

But it was gray dawn before Abner Wallace and the doctor, 
soaked and chilled themselves, came upon the mound of dead ashes 
and the three shivering persons, huddled beneath the dripping fir, 
each striving desperately to protect a wailing, blanket-wrapped 
child. Josephus quaked at sight of the grim horror on the white 
men's faces. 

In an hour of time, however, they were all under shelter at the 
mill settlement with many sympathetic hands to care for them, 
and Josephus learned that the doctor could save the women from 
serious results. He even gave the Indian some shiny white things 
that he made him swallow. 

Then came dreary, anxious days, for to his inexpressible vexa- 
tion, Josephus could not dismiss from his mind the thought of the 
peril of the fair muchacho. Misfortune? Bad luck? Certainly 
there had been ample proof! But what is, is. And he could not 
forget the feeling the helpless little warm body against his empty 
old heart all that long stormy night ! 

One day, while he waited in a sunny spot for the doctor to 
come from the sick-room, Josephus noticed himself begin to ache ; 
a coldness enfolded him, his teeth chattered and it seemed as if 
he were being slowly crushed. He crawled away and built a little 
fire, but it took long to warm him. He slept, with many strange 
dreams, and when he awoke the sun was down but he was hot — 
so hot and thirsty ! And the yellow-haired muchacho was thirsty, 
too — and heavy, heavy ! Where, where was the water ! 

When he awoke again he saw a square of filtered sunlight on 
a rough board wall. He was in a house and on a bed ! It was an 
old cabin, once occupied by a mill-hand, and Josephus had often 
peeped in at that window. Turning his head — how big it felt — he 
saw Abner Wallace asleep in his chair, a paper across his knees. 
He grinned at the familiar sight. 

"Ab !" he cried, to startle him, and was surprised that he could 
only whisper, and while he was trying to think about it all, he 
slept. 

And again he opened his eyes, for the door was being pushed, 
and a sweet little voice was piping: 

"Gwan'pa, open !" 

From a place beyond the Indian's vision Abner Wallace appeared 
and opened the door for Marjorie. Following her came Marie, 
thinner and paler — but smiling — holding the fair-haired boy on her 
arm, and steadying the tottering footsteps of the other little fellow 
at her knee. 

The radiance of perfect happiness spread over the wrinkled, 
black, unbeautiful face of Josephus as he counted them with his 
eyes. 

"No too much muchachos !" he chuckled. "Plenty muchachos ! 
Bueno!" 

Tollhouse, Cal. 



370 




A GTFSY 

By LAURA MAC KAY. 
OW should you understand ? The Red Gods brought me, 

A gypsy child, to earth all sweet with May, 
And ever through the years they stayed and taught me 

The wonder-lore of gypsies of the way. 

They spoke to me by wood and stream and hillside, 

And taught me by the lonely winter sea; 
And, though I played with all the glad earth-children, 

I knew I was a child forever free; 

Forever free, and wind-born — just a comrade 
Of the thistle-birds that sing across the sky. 

Of the aspen as it trembles in the sunlight, 
Of the gleam of silver river slipping by. 

The other children held out hands to guide me, 

Grieving because I loved my gypsy way — 
They could not hear the far sweet bugles calling, 

The Red Gods whom I only could obey, 

Who bade me listen to the deep earth-lesson, 

From birth to dreams of immortality. 
And so unravel from the old world tangle 

A golden thread of beauty's entity. 

I wander through the gay and crowded cities 

And love it as a song of minstrelsy. 
But under open skies and down the wind-road 

I hear them always calling out for me : 

Calling, and the day is filled with beauty; 

I wake to love my heritage of sun, 
And toil — and rest, and so the days are passing, 

And life at last is only half begun. 

A gypsy. See the thrush on the brown beech leaves 

So unafraid beside my cabin door; 
What is he? A lost song that you remember? 

And I in silence — something less, and more? 

And so someday — a wind among the grasses, 
A white gull out across the sparkling sea. 

The murmur of a little brook at starlight 
Must be to you your memory of me. 
St. Huberts, N. Y. 




371 
AN INFERENTIAL PROMISE 

By KATE CRAVEN TURNER. 
^IN'T no use saying anything more about it, Jim, I won't 
marry you." 

"Why won't ye, Sue? Ye might tell a feller why." 
"Look out front of us to the west, Jim ; see anything 
worth looking at ?" 

He looked in the. direction indicated by the wave of her hand, 
at one long unbroken sweep of sun-baked adobe clay, with heat 
waves shimmering over its blinding surface. Not a spot of cool 
green, not a speck of shade as far as the tired eyes could reach. 

"Not much worth lookin' at that way sure. Sue." 

"See anything 'cept that deserted cabin t'other direction any 
different ?" 

"Not much," he reluctantly admitted. 

"And it's getting worse and worse," she continued. "When we 
first come here them ditches over there had water in 'em running 
full. There was some. promise of better times then; now it's all 
being stole further up country and Pap can't fight 'em, — he ain't 
got nothing to fight 'em with. We're getting poorer and poorer." 
Bitter, hopeless dejection sounded in her reply. 

"Then why not come away from it. Sue?" 

"Away from it !" she blazed. "How much better off'd I be with 
you. You hain't got no more ditch water'n Pap has, and no more 
money to fight them ditch thieves with either. What prospects 
you got to offer a woman ?" she contemptuously asked. 

"P)Ut we are young, Sue, we can work together," he pleaded. 

"Look at Mam !" she exclaimed. "She was young, too, when she 
come here — look at her now! Look at Fred and Liza, and look 
at me !" 

The latter request was unnecessary, as he was intently looking 
at her with honest, saddened eyes that dumbly expressed his devo- 
tion and despair. 

"Look at Pap," she continued, "all bent and stooped and care- 
worn. We might better 'a staid in Kansas; that was purgatory, 
this is hell!" 

"Sue!" 

"I don't care what I say, Jim Bently, Fm tired of this kind 
of life! Do you think I want to settle down here till I get like 
Mam is? Do you think I want my children to go through what 
Fve had to?" Her face flushed hotly. "Pap and Mam can read 
and write. I can't hardly do that, 'cept what they've learnt me. 
What chance 'd I have for learning? What chance does any one 
have born in this God- forsaken place?" Her voice trembled and 
broke. "Even the prarie dogs is starving to death !" she bitterly 



372 OUT WEST 

declared. "What would we git married on, I'd like to know? 
You hain't got money enough to pay the parson for splicing us and 
I couldn't buy even a new kaliker gown to be married in. It 
would be a nice start in life !" she concluded scornfully. 

"Guess Bill Brownlee's been a-talkin' to ye, Sue." His voice 
was dangerously low, and an unpleasantly suspicious glitter shone 
in his eyes as he watched her jealously. Her face flushed, and 
she replied still more sullenly : 

"You're welcome to your thoughts, but I ain't going to marry 
anybody right away that can't show me a better living than Pap's 
a-giving me." 

"Bill could do that; he's got his cabin most built an' his alfalfa's 
the finest about here. He's got money in the bank, too, an' he's got 
a fine bunch of cattle besides ; an' I've got my s'picions 'bout some 
other things he's 'cumulatin'." 

"I know one thing he has got," she flashed back, "and that's 
git-up enough to make a Hving out of this part of the country. 
That's what most of 'em 'round here ain't got." 

"I know who you're 'ludin' to, Sue, an' mebbe I could, too, 
if I'd do what he's doin'. The thieves that's stealin' things ain't 
all up country. But that's none of my business, an' I'll ask ye once 
more, Sue, if ye mean what ye say when ye tell me ye won't marry 
me?" 

"That's 'zactly what I do mean, Jim Bently, and I hope you 
understand it now. A man that hain't got no more git-up than to 
set around here and starve to death with the prairie dogs, hain't 
got no business asking a woman to stay and starve 'long with him." 

"All right, Sue. I hain't got nothin' more to say to ye, an' 
there hain't nothin' to hold me here any longer. Guess ye're 
right — it's a poor sort of a cuss that would think of doin' it. Good- 
bye !" 

He mounted a sorry-looking brute, digging the spurs into its 
sides as he disappeared in a cloud of choking, blinding, white 
alkali-dust. Then the girl came from the shadow of the cabin 
and stood in the broiling sun, protecting here eyes from its glare 
with her hand, as she watched the dust-cloud rise until horse and 
rider disappeared in the distance. She stood tall and bronzed as 
an Indian, with the rich color fading from her cheeks, her great 
luminous brooding eyes gleaming with a light unlike any other 
human expression — longing and heart-hunger, starvation of soul 
and mind and body — it was as though the eyes expressed all the 
untaught tongue could not utter. Then, raising her hands with 
an indescribable gesture of hopelessness, she turned and went into 
the cabin, where the rank odor of bacon frying greeted her sick- 
eningly. 



AN INFERENTIAL PROMISE. 373 

"Has Jim gone, Sue?" her mother querelously and plaintively 
asked. 

"Yep." 

"Didn't — didn't — he ask you, Sue?" she faltered, 

"Yep." 

"You didn't say no, did you. Sue?" 

"Yep." 

The monosyllabic reply discouraged further questioning and 
the woman turned dejectedly away, sighing. She could never 
understand her daughter in some of her moods. She loved this 
eldest daughter devotedly and would miss her helpfulness, but it 
was one more to share the scanty store with, and she had hoped — 
a long despondent sigh ended her reverie. The monotonous hours 
ticked on until they were roused by the beat of a horse's hoofs 
coming nearer, and a man alighted at the rickety pretense of a 
gate, greeting them with : 

"Evenin', Mrs. Blanchard! Howdy, Sue? You ain't lookin' 
very chipper; what's the matter?" 

"Nothing that you can cure." 

The curt reply made him wince, and he continued apologetically : 

"I have to go to town this mornin' an' thought I'd stop by 
an' see how you-all was doin'." Then he added : "Wonder where 
Jim's gone. He lit out mighty sudden, seems to me. I just come 
past there an' everything's shut up an' nailed up tighter'n a drum. 
Looks kinder 'spicious. I heard some men over in town talkin' 
'bout a lot of cattle stealin' over on the north ranges, an' that they 
was purty hot on the trail of some of the thieves. But I guess 
Jim didn't leave on that account, though.'' 

His sneering tone contradicted his assertion, and he glanced 
shiftily at Sue to see how she took the news, and was met by a 
contemptuous shrug of the shoulders and a scornful curve of the 
lips, as she wrathfuUy turned on him with : 

"There's a few others in the neighborhood better light out, too, 
I reckon, if that's the reason Jim went away." 

"Course Jim never done nothin' of that kind, Sue," he said 
consolingly, "but sometimes innercent men are hung on suspi- 
cion ; an' the worst of it- is, them who could prove their innercence 
never knows nothin' 'bout it till they find 'em hanging by the 
neck, or pumped full of cold lead." A sardonic smile played over 
his coars'^i features at the cold-blooded declaration. 

The girl turned toward the door and stood looking oflF over 
the waste of desolation. She calmly retorted : 

" 'Tain't as likely to happen Jim as some others I know 'bout 
here ; for Jim has a good many friends. I s'pose he's got tired oi 
this country and lit out. Don't see how anybody with any git-up 



374 OUT WEST 

to "em would stay here twenty-four hours if he could get away. 
Jim shows good sense in getting out of it." 

"What you so down on this place for, Sue? This is goin' to 
be a great country some of these days." 

She turned and looked him in the eyes, answering significantly : 

"Yes, for them as knows how to git their ditch water and a few 
other things." 

His face flushed and he did not return her gaze. Her lip curled 
scornfully as she turned again to the contemplation of the monopoly 
before her. She picked up a bucket and started down the path to 
the ditch, where a small stream of water flowed sluggishly, in keep- 
ing with the forlorn, hopeless looking country. The man overtook 
her and, filling the bucket, placed it on the bank as they leaned 
against the posts of the barbed fence whose wires were rusted and 
Ijroken. 

"Sue, I got my new cabin most done, all but puttin' in the perti- 
tions . I ain't goin' to put them in till after my party. I'm goin' to 
give a house warmin' week after next. I sent the invites this 
mornin'. I'm goin' to do it up in good style, you bet; fiddlers is 
comin' from Unaweep an' all the boys an' girls from Whitewash an' 
Kahoe. It's too bad Jim went off so soon, he'll miss all the fun, 
but I'll come after you an' bring you home, if you say so." Then 
he added in confidential tone, looking at her intently: 

"You know what I'm givin' that dance for. Sue, an' you know 
why I've built that new cabin, an' what I'm doin' a lot of things for, 
don't you ?" 

"I don't know's I do, but I s'pose you will ask Jen Smith to 
set in your front door an' look out over the 'dobe mud-bumps ; that's 
'bout all she'd have to look at either d'rection." 

"What's got you so down-hearted, girl? You uster be the live- 
liest one round here." 

" 'Cause I'm sick of it, that's all," she sharply answered ; "sick 
of the hull gloomy outlook. Everybody's gettin' poorer and poorer, 
'cept you. When Pap first come here that Uncompahgre river was 
a river 'stid of a sickly stream like 'tis now, and the ditches was 
always bank-full. Then they dug that big canal 'way up stream and 
divided the waters, and what's left to come down this way is stole 
'fore it gets here. What's the use trying? I'm plum sick of it! 
I ain't coming to your party' neither," she sullenly added. 

"Why, what you talkin' 'bout. Sue? Course you're comin'." 

"No, I ain't neither. What 've I got to wear to a party ? Or any- 
where else? I tell you I ain't a coming." Sullen, stubborn defiance 
confronted him. 

"You ain't mopin' cause Jim's went away, are you?" he sneer- 
ingly asked. 



AN INFERENTIAL PROMISE. 375 

Then she blazed back at him, standing tall and defiantly wrath- 
ful: 

"No, I ain't. Bill Brownloe. any more'n I'd be moping if you 
went away and I never seen you again. What do I care who goes 
away or when they come back? I wouldn't care if I never seen 
either of you again." 

The man's face went white with anger under the sunburn, as he 
wrathfully replied: 

"Mebbe you'll change yer mind, Sue, an' be glad to come to me 
fer help some day. Jim ain't the only one 'round here that owes 
me money," he said significantly. "It don't pay to be too inde- 
pendent. Mebbe you'll sing another song one of these days." 

"Mebbe I will, Bill Brownloe; but I won't sing it till I have to, 
and somebody'U pay me for it when I do, you bet." 

At this retort Bill flung himself on his horse and rode away 
without a backward glance. Turning, she met her father and 
peremptorily demanded : 

"Pap, has Bill Brownloe got any claim on you? Do you owe 
him any money?" She asked the question in a tense voice. 

The man hesitated, and stammered : 

"Why, Sue— hum-m— " 

"Don't bother to lie about it, Pap — has he?" 

"Yes, he has," he defiantly confessed. "I borrowed a hundred 
last year and another hundred again this year, and I ain't paid no 
interest, and — " 

"That's all I want to know," she sharply interrupted. "What'd 
you borrow it of him for. Pap?" 

" 'Cause he's the only one around here that's got money to lend." 

"How'd you 'spect to pay it back?" The question was quietly 
ominous. 

"I dunno. I thought mebbe you 'n him could fix it up," he con- 
fessed. 

"Oh, you did, did you? You thought I'd sell myself to pay your 
debts. Well, mebbe I will, but if Bill Brownloe buys me, he'll pay 
more'n two hundred dollars for me if he gets me ; but he won't get 
me, if I've got brains 'nufF to keep him from doing it." 

Later she broke the tensely charged silence that fell befween 
them, irrelevantly, with, "I heard some strange men talking down 
to the store in town t'other day 'bout them waste gov'ment lands 
and abandoned claims over beyond Montrose, going to be a bloom- 
ing garden when the Gunnison canal i.s finished. What do you 
think 'bout it, Pap?" 

"I think it's more'n likely. All it need"> is plenty of water. It's 
good land. Why?" 

"Nothing. I was jest thinking. Can you borrow any more 
money on this place. Pap? Could you get any one to loan you 
money or take a mortgage on it ?" 

"I dunno. Why?" 

"I want you to borrow ev'ry cent you can get on this land, ev'ry 
cent anybody '11 let you have, and then I want you to let me have 
that money. I don't want anybody to know I know anything about 
it. Don't get it of Bill, unless you can't get it anywhere else. Will 
you try. Pap?" 



376 OUT WEST 

"I guess Bill's the only one round here that's got any money, and 
mebbe he won't let me have it." 

"I ain't any afraid he won't let you have it, if he's got it, but don't 
ask him till you've tried everywhere else. If you have to get it of 
him, you jest tell him I've changed my mind 'bout comin' to his 
house-warming, and see if you don't get it." She laughed a mirth- 
less laugh her father did not understand. "And I want you to get 
it all settled 'fore Monday night, and keep your mouth shet to Mam 
and ever'body else, will you. Pap?" 

Having great confidence in his daughter's executive ability, though 
not understanding just what her intentions were, after deliberation 
he said : 

"I don't know what you're drivin' at. Sue, or what you're schemin', 
but I'll do my best to get the money." 

"If you will. Pap, I'll pull you out of this hopeless hole. You go 
now and see about the money, quick as you can, and keep your 
mouth shet to ever'body." 

A few days later, mounted on a lean, strong-looking bronco, and 
equipped with a bundle and the inevitable slicker tied to her saddle, 
she rode away. Her parting words to her father, who accompanied 
her a short distance, were : 

"You needn't worry 'bout me. Pap, I can take care of myself. 
I'll stop at Myra's to-night; and you know my plans if I find the 
land over there worth having. I'll be back inside of a week. I've 
gone to Myra's to stay a bit, if anybody asks 'bout me — that's all 
you know that you don't have to keep your mouth shet about. 
Good-bye." 

She cantered oflf, leaving a cloud of white dust in her wake. 
Further down the road she met Bill on his return from town. 

"Hello, Sue ! Where you oflF to ? Looks 's though you was in a 
hurry," 

She looked demurely conscious as she replied : "I am in a hurry. 
I've changed my mind 'bout coming to the house-warming, Bill, and 
I've got to do some rustling if I get a dress done to wear to it, and 
mebbe, mebbe — I'll change my mind and do some other shopping, 
too," she said significantly; at which he smiled understandingly, 
saying : 

"I alius knew you was a sensible girl, Sue, an' I'll be on time to 
take you to the dance. Shall I tell the parson to drop around later 
that night?" he questioned with a knowing smile and a wink. 

"I reckon you know what's the proper thing to do 'thout my tell- 
ing you !" she laughingly exclaimed as she struck her horse sharply, 
cantering oflF, leaving him no time for further questioning. 

He turned in his saddle and looked after her with a light in his 
eyes not pleasant to see. 

" Just before reaching the town she was supposed to visit, she 
turned oflf across country, fording the river at its shallowest point. 
Scrambling up the slippery banks of the opposite side, and with the 
sure eye of a born Westerner for directions, she made a bee-line for 
a distant trail, leading back and up to the north of her home. This 
she followed until nightfall, when she stopped at a road-house, kept 
by her friend Myra, resuming her journey at daybreak; by noon 
the next day she had reached the edge of the table-lands, grey and 
almost as cheerless as the desolation she had left. There were 



OF 



AN INFERENTIAL PROMISE. 377 

evidences of a past hopeless struggle scattered here and there in the 
abandoned and tumble-down cabins, in all conditions of ruin. The 
far-reaching monotony was relieved only by the distant, ever-vary- 
ing panorama of Grand Mesa, where storm and sunshine and tem- 
pest, vivid coloring and purple black gloom came and went in 
kaleidoscopic changes. Miles across the shimmering acres in the 
distance, a slender, dark thread-line indicated where the rushing 
waters of the uncontrolled Gunnison tore madly through the narrow 
sand-bound valley. All of this tract of desolation would one day 
in the near future bloom as the Garden of Allah by the division of 
wasting waters. As she rode along the unfrequented trail, suddenly 
in the distance from behind a slight elevation appeared a horseman. 
She stopped and cautiously awaited his coming. Horse and rider 
were one uniform shade of greyish white dust, and only when within 
hailing distance did she recognize the rider. Then a clear, jubilant, 
shrill, staccato cry of "Jim !" cut the air and went echoing away 
toward the towering peaks in the distance. 

"Sue, for God A'mighty's sake, what does this mean?" 

" 'Zactly what I told you, Jim, that Fm tired of starving to death 
with prairie dogs, and I jest lit out to find a new home for we-all. 
I've promised Pap to pull him out of that alkali hole over there, and 
I'm going to do it some way. But, Jim, where you been hiding all 
this time? Didn't they ketch you?" 

"Ketch me! What in thunderation do ye mean, Sue?" 

"Why, I heard the cattle-men was after you for stealing from 
their herds and that was the reason you left so sudden." 

"You know why I left, Sue," he sadly accused. Then he blazed 
forth with: "Who said I was a cattle thief? Who told you that, 
Sue?" he demanded. 

"Somebody that said they'd heard it talked about over at the store 
in town." 

"Did Bill Brownloe say that 'bout me. Sue?" The question was 
too quietly asked. Sue knew what was seething behind it. 

"I didn't say he told me, Jim." 

"But he did say it, didn't he?" he probed. 

"What difference who said it, Jim ? I knew better." 

"That's all right. Sue ; ye needn't tell me. I'll settle this land 
business over here, and then there's the damnedest licking coming 
to Bill Brownloe he ever got in his life. You can bet all you got on 
that !" he stormed. 

"Bill's the biggest man, Jim," she laughed, "but I hope you win. 
I'll pray for you." 

"He's the one'll need your prayers, Sue — why, the whelp! I 
caught him red-handed branding a young calf he'd stole one after- 
noon. I could 'a' had him swinging long ago, if I'd 'a' told on him, 
and he knows it, the sneakin' coyote !" 

"Pap owes him money, Jim. He'd borrowed a lot 'fore I knew 
anything 'bout it, and he borrowed some more just 'fore I left. You 
see I thought mebbe if this land was worth anything, we could deed 
Bill our claim back there and Pap could start again over here ; but 
it's purty near as hopeless lookin' as back there, and I guess I'll 
have that debt to pay," she said, disconsolately. "Pap never can 
do it ; he's lost courage in everything. You know I've alius had to 
think for him. Guess I might as well go back and pay Bill the way 



378 our WEST 

he wants his pay. He'd never 'a' let Pap have the money, if he 
hadn't 'a' thought he'd get it back that way." Then she added, 
falteringly and with downcast eyes : "He's giving a house-warming 
for me next week, Jim, and I s'pose I got to get back for that, 
'nless— " 

Jim dug the spurs in the side of his patient brute, then turned 
and looked at her, his face white under the dust and sunburn, as 
he quietly asked : 

"What does that mean. Sue?" His voice was low and sorrow- 
burdened and his big, honest eyes looked like those of a dumb 
creature, unjustly chastised. 

"It means just what I say, Jim, — 'nless you can see some way out 
of it." 

When the meaning of Sue's appeal dawned upon him, his face 
changed as might that of a lost soul who sees salvation. 

"Way out of it, Sue !" he joyfully exclaimed. "Course there's a 
way out of it, girl. Why," — with a wave of the hand over the vast 
space — "this'll be a bloomin' garden in five years. All it needs is 
brains to work it an' plenty of water, which it's goin' to have 'fore 
long; then you'll see wonders here. Nobody's makin' a mistake 
when they get a home here. Why, look at Garnet an' California 
mesas over Delta way. Uster be the most hopeless lookin' spots 
on earth. Thirty years ago a horned toad would 'a' turned up his 
nose at 'em. Look at 'em now. They're the finest fruit lands of 
Colorado; an' this land's better than that." 

"But how's anybody going to live till the water gits here, Jim? 
It'll be more'n a year," she despondently queried. 

"That's easy. Sue. I went to Montrose 'fore I come over here an' 
they're prayin' for men an' teams to help 'em on the Gunnison ditch 
improvements. I got a job fer as long's the work's goin' on, an' yer 
dad can git work, too, an' we can all live there till the ditches is 
ready, an' then we'll all have some money ahead to improve the 
ranches when we move onto them, I got a plan of the big ditches 
'fore I left on this prospectin' tour, an' I've got some of the finest 
land cinched over in that northwest corner, that lays in Colorado." 

"Well, if there's any left you don't want, Jim, I'd like some of it, 
too ; for I've either got to find a home here, or go back and marry 
Bill." 

"Sue, you tormentin' little devil, quit talkin' like that." Then he 
added savagely, "I'm goin' back there an' spoil his beauty so no- 
body'll marry him, damn him 1 And say. Sue, right next to the land 
I've got cinched over there is a fine abandoned claim with a mighty 
nice cabin on it, an' I'm g^oin' straight over an' pay up on it, an' — 
an' — if ye ever change yer mind, we'll live there together, when the 
ditches is done. Will ye change yer mind. Sue ?" he pleaded. 

"Jim, you hadn't ben gone ten minutes that day when I'd changed 
it." 

Indianapolis. 




379 

*^ PABLO'S DEER HUNT 

A Pueblo Fairy Tale Told Over Again, 

By CHAS. F. LUMMIS. 

HE yellow cottonweeds above the Rio Grande shivered 
in the fresh October morning as the sun peeped over 
the Eagle Feather mountain into the valley of his 
people. Above the flat, gray pueblo of Shee-eh-huib- 
bak the bluish breath of five hundred slender chimneys 
melted skyward in tall spirals. Upon here and there a level, house- 
top a blanket-swathed figure stared solemnly at the great, round, 
blinding house of T'hoor-id-deh, the Sun Father. 

Then a burro, heavy-eared and slow of pace, rattled the gravel 
on the high bluff, gazed mournfully on the muddy eddies, and 
broke out in stentorian brays. Apparently Flojo felt downcast. 
Across these treacherous quicksands the grass was still tall in 
the vega — why did not Pablo take him over too? And, mustering 
up his ears, he trotted almost briskly down the slope to the water's 
edge, where a swart young Apollo was just stepping into the swift 
current. Tall, sinewy, lithe as Keem-ee-deh, the mountain-lion, 
that lent its tawny hide for the bow-case in his hand ; his six feet 
of glowing bronze broken only by a modest clout of white at 
the supple waist, his dense black hair falling straight upon broad, 
bare shoulders, and his dark eyes watchful of the swirling waters, 
the young Pueblo strode sturdily in, paying no heed to the forlorn 
watcher upon the shore. In a moment he was in the channel 
swimming easily, one hand holding the bow-case above the red 
bundle upon his jet crown, Such-sh! sush-sh! splash! splash! splash! 
and Flojo heaved a great sigh as his master went spattering across 
the farther shoals, and at last climbed the sandy eastern bank. 

Pablo unrolled the bundle from his head, wriggled, wet-skinned, 
into the red print shirt and snowy calconcillos, wrapped their flap- 
ping folds about his calf with the buckskin leggings of rich maroon; 
belted these at either knee with a wee, gay sash from the looms of 
Moqui, fastened the moccasins with their silver buckles, and, with 
the tawny sheath of bow and arrows slung across his back, started 
at a swift walk. Once only he stopped, after a scramble up the 
gravel hills that scalloped the plateau, to look back a moment. The 
long ribbon of the valley, now faded from its summer green, banded 
the bare brown world from north to south, threaded with the errant 
silver of the river, whose furthest shimmer flashed back from under 
the purple mass of the Mountain of the Thieves. Midway lay the 
pueblo, dozing amid its orchards below the black cone of the 
Ku-mai, and Pablo shook his head sadly, as he turned again and 
strode across the broad, high llano. 

"It is not well in the village," he muttered, "for it is full of them 
that have the evil road. The Cum-pah-huit-lah-wen have told me 
that half of these of Shee-eh-huib-bak are witches ; but not all can 
be punished. But it is in ill times for us. Tio Lorenzo is twisted 
by the Bads so that he cannot walk ; and may die ; and did not 
Amparo and Jose Diego marry the prettiest maidens of the Tee- 
wahn, only to find them witches? How shall one take a wife 

Reprinted by request from the volume of short stories entitled The En- 
chanted Burro, now out of print. 



380 OUT WEST 

when so many are accursed? It is better to hunt and forget the 
women, as do the warriors ; for we know not who are True Be- 
lievers, and who have to do with the ghosts." 

Across the wide, sandy plateau the young Indian walked with 
undiminished pace; and as the house of the Sun Father stood in 
the middle of the sky, he entered a rocky canon of the Eagle 
Feather mountain, and began to climb a spur of the great peak. 
The huddled dry leaves under a live-oak caught his eye, and 
he turned them with deft foot. "Here Pee-id-deh, the deer, slept 
last night," he exclaimed; "for the fresh earth slings to their 
under side. And here is a hair and here the footmark. If only 
Keem-ee-deh will help me." 

Kneeling by the tree, he broke off a twig and stuck it in the 
earth in front of the footprint, the fork pointing backward, that 
Pee-id-deh might trip and fall as it ran. Then, drawing the Left- 
Hand Pouch from his side, he opened it, and reverently took out 
a tiny parcel in buckskin, whose folds soon disclosed a little image 
of the Mountain Lion, chief of hunters, carved from adamantine 
quartz. Its eyes were of the sacred turquoise ; and in the center 
of the belly was inlaid a turquoise heart over which held a pinch 
of the holy corn-meal. On the right side was lashed a tiny arrow- 
head of moss-agate — one of the precious "thunder-knives" which 
the Horned Toad had made and had left for Pablo on the plains 
of the Hollow Peak of Winds. Putting the fetich to his mouth and 
inhaling from the stone lips, the hunter prayed aloud to Keem-ee- 
deh to give him true eyes and ears, and swift feet to overtake ; and 
rising, gave a low, far roar to terrify the heart and loosen the 
knees of his prey. Then, restoring the image to its pouch, with 
bow in hand and three arrows held ready, he pushed rapidly up hill, 
with keen eyes to the dim trail. Here a trampled grass-blade, there 
a cut leaf or overturned pebble, and again a faint scratch on the 
rocks, led him on. At last, just where the flap top of the mountain 
had been wrought to a vast arrow-point by the Giant of the Caves, 
he saw a sleek doe standing under a shabby aspen. Down on his 
belly went Pablo, and with a new breath-taking from the stone 
lips of the prey-god, crawled snake-like forward. The deer moved 
not, and within forty yards Pablo tugged an arrow to its agate 
head and drove it whirring through Pee-id-duh's heart. The doe 
turned her great, soft eyes toward him, sniffed the air, and went 
bounding up the rocky ledges as if unhurt. Yet on the left side 
the grey feathers of the shaft touched the skin; and once on the 
right Pablo caught the sparkle of the gem tip. 

There was a curious ashen tint in the bronze of his cheeks, 
as the hunter sprang to his feet and began running in pursuit. 
"Truly, that was the way to the life," he whispered to himself. 
"And why does she not fall ? Will it be that they of the evil road 
have given me the eye?" And stopping short, he fished out a bit 
of corn-husk and a pinch of the sweet pee-en-hleh, and rolled a 
cigarette, lighting it from the flint and steel. The first puflf he 
blew slowly to the east, and then one to the north, and one to 
the west, and one south, one overhead, and one downward, all 
about, that the evil spirits of the Six Ways might be blinded and 
not see his tracks. When the sacred iveer was smoked, he rose 
and took up the trail again. It was easy to be followed now in 



PABLO'S DEER HUNT. 381 

the soft wood soil of the mountain top; and in the very edge of 
the farther grove of aspens he saw the doe again, grazing in un- 
concern. Worming from tree to tree, Pablo came close, and again 
sent a stone-tipped shaft. It struck by the very side of the first, 
and drank as deep; but the doe, pricking up her ears as if she 
had but heard the whizz of the arrow, trotted easily away and dis- 
appeared over the eastern brow of the mountain, amid the somber 
pines. 

Pablo was very pale now, but not yet daunted. He smoked 
again to the Six Ways and prayed to all the Trues to help him, 
and with another arrow on the string, pushed forward. 

Where the tall pines dwindled to scrubby cedars he came again 
to his quarry. But now the doe was more alert, and would not 
let him within bowshot. Only she looked back at him with big, 
sad eyes, and trotted just away from range. And soon Night 
rolled down the mountain from behind him, and filled the whis- 
pering forest, and drowned the great, still plains beyond, and he 
lost her altogether. 

"This is no deer," said Pablo, gloomily, as he stretched him- 
self under a twisted savino for the night, "but one who has voahr, 
the Power. And her eyes, how they are as those of women sor- 
rowing, large and wet! But I will see the end, even though I die. 
And weary with the rugged forty miles of the day, he was soon 
asleep. 

As the blue flower of dawn bloomed from the eastern gray, 
Pablo rose, and smoked again the sacred smoke, and inhaled the 
strengthful breath of Keem-ee-deh, and started anew on his awe- 
some hunt. Soon he found the trail marked with dark blotches, 
and all day long he followed it. Just as the sun-house stood on 
the dark western ridges, he came to the foot of a high swell, on 
whose summit gleamed the gray of strange, giant walls. 

"It will be the home of Ta-bi-ra," thought Pablo aloud, "for 
my father often told me of the great city of the Pi-ro that was 
beyond Cuaray in the First Times, before the lakes of the plains 
were accursed to be salt, before Those-of-the-Old came to dwell 
on the river that runs from the Dark Lake of Tears. But how 
shall a deer come thus into the plains, which are only of the prong- 
horns. Yet I have walked in her road all day, and here are her 
marks, going" — and he stopped, for his ear caught a faint, far-off 
chant. It seemed to come from the ruins that crowned the hill ; 
and, dropping to the earth, Pablo began to crawl from cedar to 
cedar, from rock to rock, toward it. At the very crest of the 
rounded ridge was a long line of jumbled stone — the mound of 
fallen fortress-houses — and beyond, from the gathering dusk, 
loomed the ragged lofty walls of a vast temple. Under the 
shadows of the mound he crawled around to the rear of the gray 
wall, and then along the wall itself toward the huge buttresses 
that proclaimed its front. The chant was close at hand now — the 
singer was evidently within the ruined temple. But the tongue 
Pablo did not know. It was not so musical as his soft Tee-wahn, 
nor was it like the guttural of the Queres — for that he knew also — 
and yet it was some voice of the Children of the Sun, and not 
the outlandish babble of the Americanoo-deh, nor of the Spanish 
Wet-Head. It was not, then, some new tonto come to dig for the 



382 OUT WEST 

fabled gold of Ta-bi-ra — whose shafts yawned black in the gray 
bedrock, and here and there throng the very base of the great 
wall — but some Indian, and probably a medicine man, for the song 
was not as those of the careless. Pablo crouched in the darkness 
against the eastern end of the wall, listening, forgetful of the 
bewitched deer and of all else. Once in a wild swell of the song 
he thought he discerned a familiar word. 

"Hoo-mah-no?" he kept repeating to himself. "Surely, the 
Grandfather' Desiderio said me that word when he told me of 
Them-of-the-Old, when They-with-Striped-Faces dwelt on yonder 
mesa. But they are all dead these many years." 

A swift, short flash split the darkness, and a growl of far 
thunder rolled across the ruins. Pablo glanced at the heavens. It 
was sown thick with the bright sky-seeds that flew up when the 
Coyote disobeyed the Trues and opened sacred bag. From hori- 
zon to horizon there was not a cloud ; but again the flash came, and 
again the mighty drum-beat of Those Above. Pablo crept to a 
. breach in the wall, and peeped into the gloomy interior of the 
temple. Even as he looked, the zig-zag arrow of the Trues leaped 
again from ghostly wall to wall ; and its blinding light showed 
him that at which he caught his breath. For squat by a corner in 
the wall was a white-headed Indian waving his bare arms; and 
facing him and Pablo a dusky maiden, with drooping head. But 
her face was burned into his heart. 

"Surely such are precious to the Trues! For she is as the 
Evening Star, good to see !" and Pablo craned forward eagerly. 
The viejo will be a Shaman," he added, mentally, "for so our own 
Fathers make the lightning come at the medicine dance*. But 
she ! If there were such in Shee-eh-huib-bak, then one might 
take a wife — for her face is no face of a witch !" 

Just then came another flash; and then a soft, girlish cry. The 
magic lightning of the conjurer h'kd betrayed Pablo; and before 
he could spring away a heavy hand was upon his shoulder. 

" Hi-ma-tii-ku-eh?" demanded a deep voice in an unknown 
tongue. 

"Nah Tee-zvah," said the abashed hunter, trying in vain to shake 
oflf that strong grasp. 

"Tee-wah?" said the stranger, speaking in Pablo's own lan- 
guage. "I, too, have the tongue of the Shee-eh-huib-bak, for my 
wife was of there. But now she has gone to the Shee-p'ah-poon, 
and there lives for me only my child, and she is hurt. But what 
hast thou here, peeping at our medicine?" 

"It is by chance, Kah-bay-deh," answered Pablo. "For yester- 
day, when the sun was so, I wounded a deer, and unto here I have 
followed it in vain. For, perhaps, it has the Power, and I could 
not kill it. And when I heard thy song, I came, not knov/ing what 
it was." 

"Since yesterday when the sun was so, thou hast followed the 
road of a wounded deer? And how wounded?" 

"In truth, I gave it two arrows through the life, but it minded 
them not." 

"Come, then, and thou shalt see thy hunting," and he drew 
Pablo into the temple. In a moment a dry arm of the entrana 

*These artificial storms are a favorite illusion of the Indian wizards of the 
Southwest. 



PABLO'S DEBR HUNT. 383 

(which the Trues gave for the first candles) was burning; and 
by its smoky, flaring light Pablo could see his strange surround- 
ings. Beside him, that breakless hand still on his shoulder, stood 
an aged Indian. His hair was white as the snows of Shoo-p'ah- 
to6-eh, and his undimmed eyes shone from deep under snowy 
brows. He was naked but for the breech-clout, and upon his left 
arm was a great gauntlet from the forepaw of Ku-ai-deh, the bear, 
with all its claws. But at his wrinkled face Pablo stared in 
affright, for all across it ran long, savage knife-stripes so old that 
they, too, were cut with wrinkles. "Rayado!" flashed through the 
young hunter's mind, "even as were They-of-the-Old who dwelt 
in the mesa of the Ploo-mah-no ! But they are all dead since 
long ago." 

But even his superstitious terror could not keep his eyes from 
that modest figure crouched in the angle of the strange wall. 
Truly, she was good to look at. In the soft olive of the cheeks 
a sweet, deep red was spreading. Under the downcast eyes the 
lashes drew dark lines across the translucent skin. A flood of 
hair poured into her lap, and from under its heavy waves peeped 
a slender hand. It was plain from her dress that she was none 
of the bdrbaros, but a Pueblo. There was the same modest black 
tnanta of his people, the same fat, boot-like leg-wraps of snowy 
buckskin, the same dainty brown moccasins. Even the heavy 
silver rosary was about the neck, and from her ears hung strands 
of precious turquoise beads from the white, blue-veined heart of 
Mount Chalchihuitl. But even the white silver, and the stone 
that stole its color from the sky were not precious beside that 
sweet young face from which Pablo could not turn away. 

And as he gazed with a strange warm tickling at his heart- 
strings, the long lashes lifted timidly toward the handosme stranger, 
and on a sudden the bright face turned ashen, and the girl sank 
back upon a heap of fallen stones. Pablo stared with wide eyes, 
and a dizziness ran from head to knee, for there were dark drops 
upon the rocks, and amid the flowing hair he saw the notched 
ends of two arrows — his very own, feathered from the gray quills 
of Koor-nid-deh, the crane. He reeled, to fall, but the strong 
hand held him up, and the strong voice said: 

"Take the heart of a man, for it is not yet too late. Thou hast 
done this unknowing; for the witches filled thine eyes with smoke, 
to fool thee. But we will yet make medicine to heal my daughter — 
for 1 am the wizard T'bo-deh, the last of the Hoo-mah-no, and 
precious to Those Above, who will help us. But thou hast still 
arrows in the quiver — go, then, till thou come to the first cliff 
on the west, and shoot three arrows strongly into the sky. And 
bring to me that which falls — for it needs that thou who hast shed 
her blood shouldst bring it again. Nay, tremble not, for the Trues 
will help thee ; and with the amulet of the striped stone the witches 
cannot come nigh. Take the heart of a man, and go !" 

Pablo looked at the pitiful little heap in the corner, and, turning, 
manfully strode out through the broad portal and went stumbling 
westward in the darkness, over mounds and hollows and fallen 
walls. Down the long, steep ridge, across the undulant plain, knee- 
deep in dry and whispering grass, and up the western slope of the 
valley he trudged; and at last in the darkness he ran up against 



384 OUT WEST 

a smooth, straight face of rock. "It is the cliff," he whispered — 
for he feared greatly. But, plucking up his soul, he backed away 
a few paces from the rock and notched a shaft and drew it to 
the head and sent it hurling to the sky, and another, and another. 
For a long time he waited, and then there was a soft whish! and 
an arrow stood in the earth at his feet. He groped and found it 
and drew back his hand quickly, for shaft and feathers were wet — 
with that soft, warm, ticklish wetness that never came from water 
yet. Another arrow fell and it was so, and so also was the third. 

Shaken as are the leaves of the shivering tree, Pablo put to his 
lips the amulet of the wizard and drew a long breath from it. 
Then, gingerly plucking the standing arrows one by one, he started 
running from the haunted spot, not resting in his stumbling flight 
until he found himself at the foot of the hill of Ta-bi-ra. In a 
few moments he was groping along the great wall and at last stood 
again within the roofless temple. 

Now there was a tiny flre there, and the old man was squatted 
by it, chanting and snapping two long feathers together in rhythm 
with his wild refrain. And in the corner was the same dark, limp 
heap, which seemed to drift near or farther away on the waves of 
the firelight. 

"It is well!" said the old man, rising; "for already have I blown 
away the evil ones, that we be alone. And I see thou hast brought 
blood from above to pay for that which is lost." 

Taking from Pablo's hand the arrows, still red-wet, he broke 
one over the fire and one he thrust upright in the hard earth at 
the maiden's feet. Then he rubbed his hands with ashes and laid 
them upon her breast, chanting: 

"Blood, water of life, 
Come back in the brooks of the heart ! 
Blood, water of life, 
Give it to drink again — 
For the red field is dry 
And nothing grows." 

As he rubbed and sang, the maiden stirred and moved and sat up. 
And taking the third arrow, he put the notch to his lips and the barb 
to her side and drew a strong breath, and the buried shaft grew 
long and longer from her side, until it fell upon the ground. So 
he drew the second shaft, and it, too, came away and left her.* Then 
he laid the arrow of power against her side and the wounds were 
no more there ; and she rose and took the hand of Pablo to her little 
mouth and breathed on it, and looked up at him with timid eyes, 
but Pablo sank down and knew nothing, for his strength w^as done. 
When he woke, the Sun-Father was high over the gray ruins. 
Pablo found himself upon a bed of dry grass, in the shadow of the 
wall ; and near him sat the old man who was last of the Hoo-mah-no, 
watching him with clear eyes. A low sweet voice was crooning a 
sleep-song in his own tongue ; and from behind a jutting wall peeped 
forth a little moccasined foot. 

"Sleep ! Sleep ! It is good ! 

Sleep the Moon-Mother gave — 

She that bought us the night, 

Paying her sight to buy! 

Sleep ! For so She is glad !" 
*This "drawing" of objects from the patient is another stock trick of Pueblo 
"medicine making." 



PABLO'S DEER HUNT. 385 

Pablo sat up, bending forward if he might see the singer; but 
there was only a gleam of soft eyes around the wall, and then they 
were gone. The old man eyed him kindly. He was dressed now 
like Pablo, with the garments of the Pueblos ; and the stern, quiet 
face, with its strange scar-stripes, seemed after all very good. 

"Thou hast slept well, son, ' he said at last, "for we have been 
here many hours. But it is hard to fight them of the evil road, 
and for that thou wast tired. But rise now, eat and be strong, for 
other days come." 

As he spoke, the maiden came, bringing a steaming earthen bowl, 
and set it down timidly before the stranger, at whom she dared not 
look, and disappeared again in her nook. The hot broth revived 
the young hunter, and a new heart came in him and he was strong. 
When he had eaten, the old man said : 

"Now, thou art a man again. Tell me how goes with the village 
of the Tee-wahn ? For in fifty winters I have not seen Shee-eh- 
huib-bak — since my wife had come from there to P'ah-que-to6-ai, 
where 1 loved her. Is it well with the town? Do they keep the 
ways of the Old?"' 

"There are many True Believers," answered Pablo slowly, "but 
many have forgotten the ways of the Old, and taken the evil road, 
so that it is hard to know who are good, there are so many witches. 
For that, the young men that believe in the Olds are afraid to make 
nests, lest they find feathers of accursed birds therein — for many 
that look to be snowbirds are inwardly owls and woodpeckers." 

"And thou iiast no nest?" asked the old man with a keen glance. 

"In-dah-ah!" replied Pablo emphatically — and from the corner he 
caught a bright gleam of eyes. 

"It is well ! For if the nest be bad, how shall the young birds 
grow up clean? And thy parents?" 

"My father was War Captain of the Tee-Wahn," said Pablo 
proudly, "and he taught me the ways of men, and the sacred stories 
of the Old. But one gave him the evil eye, and he was slain by 
the Cumanche in war. My mother was a True Believer, and soon 
she went after him, to make his house good in Shee-p'ah-poon. So 
there is left only my grandfather, who is cacique, and my uncle. 
And with my uncle I live, for we are both of the Eagle clan." 

"It is well! But now it is to stay here for a time; for in this 
place is mighty power of the Olds. But if thou wilt hunt for us, 
that Deer-Maiden may eat well while I fast and talk with Those 
Above, then we will go with thee to Shee-eh-huib-bak ; for my 
people are no more and my child is lonely to be with the people of 
her mother. But show me the zvahr with which thou huntest, for 
perhaps the witches have blinded it." 

Pablo fished out the little stone image, which he had never shown 
to man before, and T'bo-deh inhaled from its lips. 

"It is so!" he said angrily; and prying out the turquoise heart 
he showed the hunter that from beneath it the sacred meal was 
gone, and in its place a tiny black feather. "It is no wonder thy 
hunting was ill," he cried, "for the witches have changed the heart 
of Keem-ee-deh ! But I will give thee a strong zcahr that none can 
kill," and breaking the polluted image with a rock, he covered the 
fragments with a cloth, and chanted a sacred song. In a moment 
the cloth moved, and the wizard drew from under it a bright new 



386 OUT WEST 

Keem-ee-deh carved from the sunlight-stone, the yellow-topaz, and 
bound to its sides was an arrow-head of transparent emerald. Its 
heart was turquoise, and its eyes red garnets. 

"Take it, son, and fear not," said the aged conjurer, "for it is 
stronger than the ghosts. But now go and hunt, for there is no more 
meat." 

When Pablo toiled up the hill of ruins at sundown, a noble ante- 
lope was balanced upon his shoulders and a fat wild turkey dangled 
from his belt. He threw them down proudly, and was paid with a 
shy glance from the eyes that now lived in his heart, and the old 
man said : 

"The new wahr is good ! And thou art a hunter like Keem-ee- 
deh himself. Verily, there will be no lack of meat in thy house." 
But at this the maiden ran away with a red face ; and Pablo's heart 
was glad. 

For three days they were there while the old man made medicine ; 
and every day Pablo brought back much game. And every day 
his eyes grew deeper and those of the maiden drooped lower. On 
the fourth day they started, the three, to the northeast ; and with 
three journeys they came to Shee-eh-huib-bak. There Pablo brought 
the strangers to his grandfather, the cacique ; and when old Desidcrio 
knew that this was the great wizard, the last of the Hoo-mah-no, he 
was very glad, and gave him of the common lands, that his home 
should be always there. 

When the people of Shee-eh-huib-bak were making clean for the 
Noche Buena, Pablo came to the cacique, and said: "Tata, there 
is another year, and I am tired to be alone." 

"But canst thou keep a wife?" 

"Thou knowest, tata, that none kill more game. As for my 
fields, they are good, and the careless-weed never grows there." 

"It is truth, my son. And who is good in thine eyes?" 

"There is only one, tatita, and that is Deer-Maiden, the child of 
the Hoo-mah-no. She is very good." 

"I like her," answered the withered cacique slowly, "for her father 
has given her a good heart, and they are both precious to Those 
Above. It is well." 

In four days the cacique and the Hoo-mah-no brought Pablo and 
the Deer-Maiden to the cacique's house and gave them to eat two 
ears of raw corn — to him a blue ear, but to her a white one, for a 
woman's heart is always whiter. Pablo looked at her as he ate, but 
she could not look. And when both had proved themselves by eat- 
ing the last grain, the elders took them out to the sacred running- 
place and put them side by side, and marked the course, and gave 
them the road. Then Pablo went running like a strong antelope, 
but the girl like a scared fawn ; and up the sacred hill they flew, 
and turned at the Stone of the Bell, and came flying back. But 
now Pablo was slower, for it is not well to surpass one's bride in 
the marrying race, as if one would rob her of respect; and if they 
come in equal, there is no marriage. So she was first; and all 
the people blessed them, and they were one. No witch could ever 
harm their house, for He-that-was-Striped gave them strong zvahr, 
and they were happy. 

That is the story of Pablo's Deer Hunt, and it must be true, I 
know, for himself the gray-haired grandson of Pablo and the Deer- 
Maiden told me. 



387 



BEFORE DAWN IN CHINATOW^N 

. A FRAGMENT OF OLD SAN FRANCISCO. 
By CHARLTON LAWRENCE EDHOLM. 

i^{ini HE hour is three in the morning, an 
eerie season to be prowhng through 
this network of blind alleys — scene 
of frequent violence, murder and 
clan warfare — which constitutes 
that part of the Chinese Empire lo- 
cated in San Francisco. 

It is not an hour of repose ; for, 
although the dingy by-ways are al- 
most entirely deserted, light glim- 
mers from many an upper window 
and balcony, telling that this is a 
time of recreation and social inter- 
course throughout the quarter. 

An arc lamp suspended overhead 
seems but to intensify the shadows 
of the squalid alley, dabbled only 
last week with spilt blood and echo- 
ing to pistol shots whose flashes split 
the darkness, but now void of life 
except for us, and silent but for our 
own footsteps. 

Through the murk, we can dis- 
tinguish at the corner a dim glowing 
lantern, mere oiled paper of bal- 
loon-like construction and brush- 
marked with splawling hieroglyphics. It dangles at the end of a 
bamboo rod, which is knotted crosswise to a rough post, a leafy twig 
at the knot. The cobblestone at its base which was removed to 
make way for the timber, is flanked by a bowl of fruit and Chinese 
delicacies and by smoking punks and primitive candles, mere dabs 
of red fat molded on skewers, which are stuck upright in a little 
crook-neck squash. 

These things were placed on the ground as offerings — for to- 
night gods are worshipped, ancestors revered and malignant 
demons propitiated in Chinatown. 

As we approach the lantern, which is guiding-light and invi- 
tation to the ceremony, the sound of Celestial music is faintly 
audible proceeding from the next alley. At the distance it is like 
a bad dream, such as might be induced by a Welsh rabbit taken 
after an ultra-modern symphony concert. It has an endless kit- 




388 OUT WEST 

motif, that is almost but not quite a melody, just a maddening 
approach to melody; in fact, as we draw nearer and become aware 
of the frequent cymbal-clashing, the tapping on cocoanut-shells, 
the incessant squeaking of fiddles, and the amazing falsetto recita- 
tive of vocal performers, who are ki-yi-ing in competition with a 
strident clarionet, we wonder at the disappearance of any ap- 
parent harmony or air in this musical chop-suey. 

At the turn of the corner, a sudden flare of bonfires and hundreds 
of flickering candles on the ground, and swaying lanterns and 
festoons of incandescent bulbs overhead, throw high lights on the 
shiny yellow faces of a multitude of Chinese. About one hundred 
of them are squatting a-row in the gutters, each man keeping 
alight his little collection of red-fat candles and bunches of smoul- 
dering punks secured in the small squashes used as candlesticks. 

This double row of fire-tenders extends a hundred yards or so, 
from the altar in a canvas booth near us, wherein priests contin- 
ually recite prayers, to the further end of the street, where are 
grouped a dozen grotesque gods, large and small, who, being of 
flimsy tinsel paper and bamboo, sway and move their limbs fan- 
tastically in the night breezes. 

Half way down the right side of the street, opposite the joss- 
house, a temporary but very florid balcony has been constructed 
over the sidewalk and adorned with flowers, bunting and bright 
electric bulbs, some in ornate hanging lanterns, others following 
the outline of the structure. Here, in a bower of gay asters bloom- 
ing in jardinieres, sit the Celestial musicians and perform unceas- 
ingly ; their pandemonium being rivaled by an independent clarionet 
soloist in the booth with the chanting priests. 

A high fence at the curb extends from the altar booth to the 
musicians' balcony, and paper lanterns bobbing and swinging before 
this billboard illumine the long red poster, which is covered with 
cabalistic inscriptions, and adorned at each end with pictures of 
gods and dragons. 

And all around this illumination hovers the night like an enor- 
mous bat. Blackness above, intense blackness of sky and sinister 
clifl^s of masonry that shut in the narrow street ; but half way down 
the grim walls, and strung over the chasm, sparkle and glitter hun- 
dreds of tiny lights dazzling specks of brightness in the black, 
and by their glow one can see, with some eye-straining, a crimson 
ensign drooping from a pole far over the joss-house. It bears 
inky characters designating the tong whose high festival is nearing 
its close tonight. 

This was the spectacle that suddenly burst upon up as we 
turned the corner and paused for a moment to catch our breath. 

Then we joined the rows of onlookers, whose yellow faces with 



BEFORE DAWN IN CHINATOWN. 389 

bright agate eyes lined the sidewalks and clustered by the musicians' 
balcony. Some peeped curiously into the shrine for a glimpse of 
the three red-robed priests, who, sitting behind three tall, conical 
cakes and other heaped-up delicacies, droned prayers interminable, 
punctuated by gong-tapping and bell- jingling. 

When the curious ones ventured in front of the booth, and so 
obstructed the path of prayers leading to the gods up the street, 
a white man, evidently employed by the Chinese, shoved them 
back with the stick he was whittling, dealing the more persistent 
ones an occasional rap that made them jump. 

He and I were almost the only "foreign devils" in the crowded 
alley — for the third hour before dawn finds but few tourists in the 
quarter. Not alone the ab^nce of occidental faces makes it hard 
to believe that this is the metropolis of California, or of any white 
man's country in fact, for so oriental, so Arabian-night-like was the 
setting, so fantastic the flame-light on the polished faces peering 
out of shadowed backgrounds, so brain-bewildering the incessant 
sing-song of the chattering crowd, the wailing and skirling of the 
orchestra, the buzzing of the priests^ so stupifying the smoke and 
incense-laden air, that the commonplace voice of the watchman, 
clearing the path way of prayer, sounds like music: "Git outta there, 
you damn yeller scum before I smash you one in de mug, etc., etc." 
I felt quite drawn to the man. 

As I craned my neck over the foremost row of shoulders, he 
observed me with some surliness; for he wished it understood that 
he was guarding the interests of the Chinese as long as they paid 
his salary. However, as soon as he was convinced that I was not 
a tough citizen looking for trouble, he unbent considerably, and 
between proddings and shovings of obstructing sight-seers volun- 
teered information more or less accurate in regard to his employers 
— the most enlightening phase of the whole conversation being 
that, although he had been in the quarter for twenty-odd years, 
had many Chinese friends and knew most all the inhabitants of 
Chinatown by sight, he understood less of their nature than he had 
at the beginning. 

"It's a funny religion they've got. Ketch onto them priests 
singin' outta their prayer books an' smokin' cigareets the while. 
Wouldn't that kill you! An' if you'll look behind the curtain back 
o' the tent, you'll find a dope-fiend hitting the pipe." 

True enough, behind the canvas partition sprawled a devotee 
of the drug, busily heating his pill over a tiny lamp, rolling* and 
kneading it on the pipe bowl and inhaling the smoke luxuriously 
to the accompaniment of incessant prayers. 

But to look at the face of the high priest, sitting enshrined in a 
frame of gaudy silk curtains, you would never guess at the queer 



390 OUT WEST 

actions behind the scenes. It was a saint-Hke face, resembHng the 
image of Buddha in its expression of calm, supreme calm, and 
habitual, effortless sacrificing of the flesh to the spirit. He was 
gorgeously be-robed and red-mitred, but seemed void of any con- 
ceit, void of any interest except th^ ceremony at which he officiated. 

Occasionally he jingled two small bells of bronze, again he took 
a dish of meal and with incantations scattered pinches in the air; 
at one point in the service the little curtain was dropped before his 
face during the performance of some more sacred rite, then looped 
back when he had finished. 

Meanwhile the two priests on either side of the improvised altar 
— a common deal table decked with embroidered altar-cloths — read 
diligently at their prayer-books, puffing cigarettes and imbibing 
bowls of tea in the intervals, and frequently tapping the little 
gongs before them; but their feeble efforts were drowned by the 
lusty crowing of the clarionet in the background. 

In contrast to the officiating priest, these minor ones were gross 
and greasy fellows, with extremely sensual expressions upon their 
heavy features. Their red robes were somewhat less ornate than 
those of the high priest, and, instead of a mitre, each wore a black 
skull cap with a gilt knob at the back of the head, like the tgg 
produced by the golden goose. 

"Yeh see them fancy cakes?" remarked the watchman, observ- 
ing my interest in those masterpieces of the confectioner's art tower- 
ing in front of the priests. "Mebbe yeh noticed that each one has a 
hand stickin' out o' the top; they're considered lucky by them ig- 
norant Chinks ! Yessir, they believe in them same ez we believe in 
a rabbit-foot. Ef I wuzn't on hand, they'd a been snooped long 
ago; I seen three or four tough mugs from another clan rubberin' 
at them purty hard. Chase yerself yeh — illegitimate offspring of 
a yellow canine." (These are not the exact words with which he 
expressed himself, as he jabbed in the abdomen a smart young 
dandy of a rival clan, but they convey the idea. 

"You've got to make them feel that you're their superior," he 
observed; "else you might as well lay down and quit." 

1 agreed that he was "onto his job." 

"Say you want to take a look at them josses up the street," he 
added at the next lull of the din. "There's a big chief-god that's 
a wonder, all painted and streaked fierce and gaudy, an' there's one 
bunch of smaller ones sittin' around a table confabulating, an' a 
few "others thet don't cut ice; but the hero of the occasion is a 
middlin'-sized white feller, him with the fan an' the blood coming 
out of his eyes. I think the yarn is about how one of his friends, 
or his father mebbe, was in the coller, expectin' to be shortened by 
a head presently. All right, this young feller hears of it, gits a 



Bni'ORB DA WN IN CHINA TO WN. 391 

hoss, rides clean across China, an' begs an' cries to be allowed to 
take his place until the blood streams out of his eyes. Now what 
d'ye think o' that?" 

"Well," I suggested, "and then — " 

"Oh, I dunno — the judge let 'em all off with a lecture, I guess, 
an' the priests got hold of it an' made a saint outta the guy. There's 
no perticular beginnin' ner endin' to them pipe dreams ; but anyhow 
he's the main cheese here tonight. Better take a squint at his 
nibs." 

As I elbowed my way down the crowded walk, it was fascinating 
to watch the play of light from bonfires that extended down the 
middle of the street — how it threw into sharp relief the mysterious, 
unfathomable faces of the onlookers, while the dark-clad bodies were 
merged in the shadow. 

And the squatting fire-tenders in the gutters ! Grotesque, indeed, 
was the light on each yellow face, the dry wrinkled mask of the 
dotard, the round and shining countenance of a prosperous mer- 
chant, an oval, smooth-skinned face of a boy with lustrous eyes, 
all were illumined by the flickering glare of the sacrificial fires they 
watched. 

Before each crouched figure lay a heap of waste papers — which 
are not waste papers but treasure; for it may be observed that 
each square has a bit of silver tinsel pasted in its center, or is 
punctured with many knife-thrusts, or is cut into some geometrical 
form, which details give them immense value to the dead, or for the 
gods unto whom they ascend in the form of smoke. Beside these 
symbols were more substantial offerings ; each man guarded a bright 
new plan of food, scraps of roast chicken, rice, apples, beans and 
tiny bowls of tea were neatly arranged in each pan and two pair 
of chop-sticks were laid a-top the feast. 

The group of gods was served with an extra large ration, a 
dishpan full, and a few paces behind them stood a chair with a 
tub of water and a towel — whether a finger-bowl for the feasting 
spirits, or, as the watchman averred, for the accommodation of the 
Prince of Darkness, I will not undertake to decide. 

But this I noticed : that fierce as may be the streaky countenance 
and glaring eyeballs of the painted paper god, he resembled that 
musketeer, one of the famous three, whose back was unromantic 
and shabby, for it was pieced out with a section of a very "yellow" 
journal. Yes, His Divinity was composed in part of the "Sunday 
Supplement," with headline something like this: 

IN THE SMART SET'S GIDDY GALLOP; 
SOCIAL PRATTLE BY POLLY PERT. 

The white hero I recognized without difficulty; a sufficiency of 
blood streamed from his eyes and was realistic in its hue — red 
ink, I fancy, was used. The fan with which he gestured wobbled 
pathetically in the wind ; only cobblestones weighing down his toes 
prevented his complete collapse. 

As I watched, the fire-tenders set light to their piles of paper 
treasure ; for the priests were moving in procession to the divinities, 
chanting as they proceeded. The great god of the giddy galloping 
posterior was carried the length of the street and back, to the frantic 
accompaniment of vocal and instrumental discord that bore a re- 



392 



CUT WEST 



semblance to cats, plenty of cats, doing battle in a boiler-factory. 
The high priest sprinkled with an aster blossom consecrated water 
to right and left as he intoned. 

At the close of this triumphant tour up and down the block, the 
god was incontinently dumped on a fire, the other divinities met 
the same fate, the paper lanterns were torn down and heaped on 
the pyre — even the posts were uprooted and burned. But not the 
eatables ; each man seized his own little feast and scudded away, 
while the fancy cakes on the altar were parted by many grasping, 
clawing hands, the watchman repelling attacks of the rival hungry 
tongsmen with smart raps and many a crisp oath. 

And so, in a greedy scramble, a flare of paper fires and clouds 
of stinking smoke, ended the solemn festival. 

Over the grimy roofs of Chinatown and the spiked fences that 
fortify them, dawn tinged with a clean, pale light the eastern sky, 
and I saw it and was glad. 

Los Angeles. 




393 




A League 



(incorporated ) 




DCTTER. INOIANd 

Se-quo-ya, the Atnericon Cadmu/' (tor« 1771, 
died 1842), was the only Indian that ever invented 
a written language. The League takes its title from 
this great Cherokee, for whom, also, science has named 
("Sequoias") the hugest trees in the world, the giant 
Redwoods of California, 

HE time comes on when the Indians in the desert and 
mountain reservations of Southern California look for- 
ward to several months of cold, and of short rations. 
California has a vast range of climate, from the Alpine 
to the sub-tropic. The Indian reservations do not 
enjoy the same climate as Los Angeles and San Diego and Santa 
Barbara. Even on the desert, winter is marked by rapid and great 
changes of temperature ; and while there is no zero weather, pneu- 
monia is the great disease of the desert. In the mountain reserves 
of Southern California, the altitude is considerable, and the cold 
sufficient to be a hardship and a menace to people of insufficient 
clothing and bedding. As the food supply is scant at best, there 
is seldom sufficient nutriment for the winter. It is a good time to be 
thinking of the Indian Christmas, and to provide a considerable 
amount of eatables and covering for the winter. 

Conditions at Pala continue to improve. These Indians — whose 
famous eviction from Warner's Ranch stirred the country six years 
ago — have adjusted themselves excellently to the ne whome. They 
have the best reservation in the West — theirs is the only recorded 
case, perhaps, in which Indians have been moved to better land. 
The old affection for the desert home has now largely worn away, 
in face of the manifest material benefits of the new one. This 
year's crops were excellent; the resident missionary in the historic 
Mission is respected and loved ; and the Indians have good friends 
in the traders, Messrs. Salmons and Batchelder. 

The purchase of lands for the Indians of the five Campo Reserva- 
tions has been consummated ; and when a little red tape is untied, 
these people will be very much bettered — thanks to the splendid 
campaign made by Southern California, first in supporting them 
through a starvation winter, and then in battering Congress until 
an appropriation of $100,000 was secured for permanent relief by 
giving them lands on which they will be able to make a living by 
frugality and hard work. 

This is a progressive cause. We can hardly hope to see the day 
when something will not need to be done in the way of justice and 



394 OUT WEST 

a fair deal for these First Americans, whose only hope lies in the 
public sentiment of those who occupy the country that once be- 
longed to these half-forgotten national wards. The Sequoya League 
expects to continue its work as the medium of intelligent co-opera- 
tion between public sentiment and the government. Whatever 
moneysr are entrusted to it will be used intelligently, practically and 
economically to the best interests of the Indians. 

Funds for the work : 

Membership — 

Previously acknowledged, $2,574. 

$2 each, Los Angeles, Mrs. P. B. Troy, R. A. Rowan, Mrs. J. R. Lewis, 
J. R. Lewis, Franciscan Fathers, Father Raphael Fuhr, M. H. Sherman, Jos. 
J. Butler, F. A. Nolan, Frank H. Olmsted, A. M. McFarland, Mrs. Clara C. 
Capen, W. E. Hampton, Dr. J. H. Martin, Mrs. Elsie A. Martin, Maj. E. F. 
C. Klokke, Mrs. Sumner P. Hunt, J. G. Chandler, Mrs. J. C. McCoy, Dr. 
Jno. R. Haynes, Benj. Fay Mills, Mary B. Warren. 

$2 each, Pasadena, Mrs. G. F. Leavens, Mrs. P. M. Green, Mrs. Eva Mc- 
Bride, Mrs. M. B. Moody, Mrs. Arturo Bandini, Mrs. Horace M. Dobbins, 
Mrs. Robt. J. Burdette, Chas. H. Frost, Mrs. C. B. Boothe, W. D. Woolwine. 

$2 each, California, Zpeth S. Eldredge, San Francisco; James D. Phelan, 
San Francisco ; Mrs. Geo. S. Chambliss, Altadena ; Mrs. Helen J. Mason, 
Berkeley; W. A. Nichols, Redlands. 

$2 each, Mary W. Bonsall, Philadelphia ; Mary D. Biddle, Montrose, Pa. ; 
Flora Golsh, Pa. ; Iphie Heckert, Denver ; Mrs. Chas. Plummer, Maine. 

Life membership, $50, Gen. Wm. J. Palmer, Colorado Springs, Colo. 

$8, Mrs. Margaret Caldwell, Illinois. 

$6, Mrs. T. W. Allerton, Los Angeles. 

$4, Mrs. Adaline B. Hill, Los Angeles ; Mrs. T. W. Brown, Los Angeles ; 
Mrs. S. A. P. Wheeler, Los Angeles ; Miss Mira Hershey, Los Angeles. 

$2 each. New York, Chas. Eddy, Dr. T. Mitchell Prudden, Geo. H. Max- 
well, Dr. David W. Houston, Marjorie E. Dana, Mrs. E. M. Fowler, Mrs. 
W. H. Whittingham, Stewart Culin, Brooklyn; Mary J. Carr, Brooklyn. 

$2 each, new members, Arthur W. Line, Guy C. Lewis, W. L. Coatsworth, 
Mrs. W. L. Coatsworth, Dr. Emily G. Hunt, Dr. Elizabeth W. Hunt, Miss 
Ella M. Hunt, Miss H. M. Lincoln, Mrs. C. H. Alden, Miss Martha C. Lath- 
rop. Miss Grace R. Ward, Pasadena ; Alfred Dolge, Dolgeville, Cal. ; Miss 
Kate G. Fowler, New York; Rev. Edwin Sidney Williams, Saratoga, Cal.; 
Chalfant L. Swain, Aguanga, Cal. 

Relief Fund — 

Previously acknowledged, $1,811.50. 

Mary B. Warren, Los Angeles, $5 ; Lydia Pike, Pasadena, $1 ; Mary D. 
Biddle, Montrose, Pa., $2; Marjorie F. Dana, New York, $1.25. 






GOOD TO EAT— This Flotir Mixed with 
Molasses and Water Makes Old Fashioned 




OSTON 
RO WN 
READ 



ABSOLUTELY PURE FOOD 

The Government and the State have given us the 
Pure Food Laws, but it remains for the women of 
the land — the homemakers — to refuse to purchase 
any article of food that is not fully guaranteed by 
the manufacturers, 

ALLEN'S BOSTON BROWN BREAD FLOUR 

AND 3-B PANCAKE FLOUR 
are especially prepared to meet the demand for pure, 
clean food and do not contain one particle of phos- 
phatic acid or alum. 

ALLEN'S BBB FLOUR CO., Inc. 

Pacific Coast Factory, San Jose, Cal. 



MYVO THEATRICAL COLD CREAM 



prevents early wrinkles. It is not a freckle coating' ; it t» 
moves them. AN YVO CO., 427 North Main St., Los AngelM 



Out West Magazine Company 

CHAS. F. LUMMIS, President IV. S. DINSMORE, Treasurer 

C. A. MOODY, Vice-President aud General Manager A. E. KEMP, Secretary 



PUBLISHERS OF 



OUT WEST 

( CHAS. F. LUMMIS 
Edited by ^ CHARLES AM A DON MOODY 



Entered at the Los Angeles Postoffice as Second-class Mattel*. 



A. Jl—^^^*\^\.^^ Dn.'f^e will be cheerfully furnished on application. Special dis- 

XxaVerXlSing Kaies . . counts allowed on 3, 6 and 12 month contracts. Rates 
of cover-pages and other preferred spaces (when available) will be named on application. 
The publishers reserve the right to decline any advertising not considered desirable. 

Size of column 2i^x8 inches — two columns to the page. Last advertising form closes on 
the 15th of month preceding date of issue. Advertisers are earnestly requested to instruct 
as early as the 5th whenever possible. 

S..U.,f .r^..;«««;>^««. "Pol^^A $2.00 a year delivered post-free to any point in the 

\lJ3SCripilOn rrice . . united states, Canada, Cuba or Mexico. $2.75 a year to 
any other country. 

All manuscript, and other matter requiring the attention of the editor, should be 
addressed to him. All letters about subscriptions, advertising or other business, should be 
addressed 

OUT WEST MAGAZINE COMPANY, Los Angeles, California 



Continental Building and Loan 

Association 



(Established in 1889) 



MARKET and CHURCH STS. 
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIF. 

Will be in our new building at Jundion of Golden Gate Ave., 

Taylor and Market Sts., about January I , I 909 

Paid-in Capital - $2,000,000.00 

Write the Association 
for particulars regarding 
6 per cent certificates of 
deposit, the safest invest- 
ment in Calif.; interest 
payable semi-annually. 



DR. WASHINGTON 'DODGE - - - - President 
JAMES McCULLOUGH - - . ht Vice-President 
T>R. JOSEPH G. CRAWFORD - 2nd Vice-President 

GAVIN McNAB Attorney 

WILLIAM CORBIN - - - Sec and Gen'l Mgr. 



n 



Hummel Bros. & Co., "Help Center." 116-118 K Second St. Tel. Main 509. 



Los Angeles Brewing Co/s 

Pure and Wholesome Beers 
ARE 

WELL KNOWN 

Contain Only Syi 9 Alcohol 

Patronize Home Industry and help to build up "Cal- 
ifornia," which you can well afford to after 
having given our products a trial 

Draught and Bottled Beers 
The True Temperance Beverage 

Bohemian and Elxtra Pale Lager 

Malto, the $10,000 Beer 

(Bavarian Type Brew) 

MISSION MALT TONIC 

ALL ORDEIRS by mail or phone given prompt 
attention 



Hose, Ex. 820 



PHONES 



Suiset Eut 820 



SAN FERNANDO, CAL 

ISe Idea Spot for a Home 




GEORGE JR. SCHOOL 

The Finest Citrus Fruits in the World 

Are grown in the San Fernando Valley. 250,000 
acres of the most fertile soil in Southern California, 
on which is grown every product of the soil. 

For delailtd informalion of the opporiunlliet offered, 
write to anu of the following: 



R. P. Waite MarUiam & DickerMO Stewart Fniit Co. 

Van WinUe Bros. John T. Wilson Henry HoUye 

Mra. F. L. Boruff F. A. Powell S. N.Lopez&Co. 



NAVAJO BLANKETS 

AND INDIAN CURIOS AT W^ H O L E S A L E, 

I have more than 250 weavers In my employ. Including the most skilful now 
living, and have taken the greatest pains to preserve the old colors, patterns, 
and weaves. Every blanket sold by me carries my personal guarantee of its 
quality. In dealing with me, you will get the very finest blankets at wholesale 
prices. I also handle the products of the Hop! (Moqui) Indians, buying them un- 
der contract with the trading posts at Keam's Canyon and Oraibi and selling 
them at wholesale. 

I have constantly a very fine selection of Navajo silverware and jewelry, 
Navajo "rubies" cut and uncut, peridots and native turquois. Also the choicest 
modern Moqui pottery, and a rare collection of prehistoric pottery. 



J. L HUBBELU '"'"'" Tr.d.r 



Write for my Catalogue 
and Price List 



Ganado, Apache Co., Arizona 







Maier Brewing Company's 

''Select" JBecr 



XTOTED for its Age. 
Purity and Strength. 
All shipments by bottles or 
kegs promptly filled. Family 
trade a specialty. :: :: :: 



; OFFICE AND BREWERY : 



440 Aliso Street, Los Angeles 

BOTH PHONES: Exchange 9 1 



HEMET, CALIFORNIA 





 




An Ideal Place 
for a Home 
















...SOIL... 

RICH DEEP 

SANDY LOAM 

"Water Supply- 
One of the best in 
the entire south- 
west. 

NO SALOONS 

High and Grammar 
Schools. :: :: :: 

WRITF r:==s 

fERGUSON INVESTMENT CO. 
or WILLIAM KINGHAM 

Hemet, Riverside Co., Cal. 




ORANGE GROVE, HEMET TRACT 




PRODUCTS: Potatoes, Alfalfa, Peanuts, Walnuts, Almonds. Berries; 
Citrus and Deciduous Fruits of All Kinds. 



In the heart of the 
mountains, yet close to 
ocean and city. Only a 
few miles from the Fre- 
mont Big Tree Grove and 
the State Sequoia Park. 

A village of lovely 
homes set among groves 
of redwood, bay, spruce, 
oak, madrono, and other 
trees. The purest water 
in the state can be piped 
into every home. No 
liquor selling, nor other 
objectionable business. 
Ideal for summer resi- 
dence, or for all-the-year 
homes. For illustrated 
descriptive pamphlet, write 
to 



BEAUTIFUL 

Brookdale 




brooRlDAle lands company 

BrooKdale, Santa Cruz County, California 



Ramon A Toilet 3o A p 



PO R S ALE 



SUNNYVALE, CALIPORNIA 




JOSHUA HENRY IRON WORKS 

One of the many Industries 

Climatic conditions, location and shipping facilities insure great manufacturing 
center; a dozen concerns now operating with pay-rolls at $12,000 per week. Best 
for cherries, prunes, other fruits, berries, nuts and vegetables in the world-famed 
Santa Clara valley — five to ten-acre tracts sufficient; 50 Southern Pacific trains 
daily, 3 miles from San Francisco bay and deep water; south from San Francisco 
38 miles. Write Sunnyvale Chamber of Commerce for handsome illustrated 
booklet, free. R. B. Cherington, Sec. or to 

Sunnyvale Realty & Investment Co.; J. P. Bro^vn Realty Co.; A. J. WIthyoombe, Ryan 
Hotel: Mux Wilheliiiy, DelionteNiten Store; C. H. WoodliuiiiM, Furniture nnd IlarnenM; 
Geo. I). Ilunton, Contractor nnd Builder; VV. J. Vandrick, Sunnyvale Hotel; Smith BroH., 
(iroeern; F. F. Cornell. I'oMtmaMter; Itudolph Muendern; Hydro-Carbon CompunleM; Ralph 
H. ToniaMco. DriiKKiit; Geo. F. Booker, Fuel and Hay. 



Designing 
Engraving 
Printing 



We Print the 

OUT WEST 
MAGAZINE 



Estimates 
Promptly 
Furnished 



WM. WOLFER 



A. M. DUNN 




y^iQ. 



^S' 



Commercial, Book and Catalogue 



Printing and Binding 



837 So. Spring Street, Los Angeles 



Help— All Kinds. See Hummel Bros. & Co., 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 



California Lands 



$10 PER ACRE 

Address 0"Nvners, 



P. O. 



2150 acres suitable for subdivision— 1500 acrea 
under cultivation, all fenced. 4¥j miles from 
R. R. station and town. Telephone, electric 
power, etc. Houses and all outbuildings, fine 
water, good climate. For sale as a whole on 
easy terms. Excellent opportunity to make 
money or for colony tract. 
Box 4-95, OaKland, Cal. 




IN THE SAN BERNARDINO MOUNTAINS 

'T'HIS City is situated in a valley of great fertility, while the scenic beauties are unex- 
■'■ celled. Three transcontinental railroads enter the city and trolley lines lead to the 
mountains and to adjacent towns and communities. Here are located the great Santa Fe 
railroad shops, employing more than one thousand men, with a pay-roll amounting to $ 1 00,000 
per month. The business men of the city very largely furnish the vast supplies for the min- 
ing districts in other parts of the county. ^ Anowhead Hotel, Arrowhead Hot Springs, 
California, is easily reached by any train to San Bernardino, thence by trolley car direct to 
Arrowhead Hotel. ^ First class schools, public library and churches of nearly all denom- 
nation;. ^ For Booklet and Further Information, Address 

SECRETARY BOARD OF TRADE, SAN BERNARDINO, CAL. 

or any of the following leading business firms: 



Arrowhead Hotel 
David R. Glass, Business College 
Insurance, Loan and Land Company 
W. L. Vestal, Insurance and Real Estate 
Miller-McKenney-Lightfoot Company, Real Es- 
tate Brokers 



Stewart Hotel 

California State Bank 

Jones Bros., Kodak Supplies 

Draper & Dubbell, Real Estate, Insurance and 

Loans 
San Bernardino Realty Board 




£/S/ 

sees 



ANYVO THEATRICAL COLD CREAM 



prevents early wrinkles. It is not a freckle coatinr J it «*■ 
moves them. ANYVO CO., 427 North Main St., Los Angeles 



LONG BEACH 



CALIFORNIA'S FINEST HOME SITE 
AND GREATEST BEACH RESORT 




BATH HOUSE AND ESPLANADE 

POPULATION 23,000 

Tmrty-rivc minutes' riae from Los Angeles, Excellent School 
System. ^\^ater, Ligkt, and Power Plants. Many -well pavea 
Streets. NO SALOONS. Hotel Virginia, tKe Finest Sea Side 
Hotel on the Coast, just nnisnedat a cost or $1,000,000. For copy 
or booklet, address 

JAS. A. MILLER, Secretary 

Long Beach Chamber of Commerce 

Or any or tne Tollo\^ing rirms 



Hotrl VlrHTinia 

Firat Natlunnl Bank of Lone Beach 
The XntlonnI Bank of Long Beach 
AlainitoM I.nnd Co. 
liOa AnKcIca Dock & Terminal Co. 
United Syndicate* Co., Ltd. 
The KdlNon Electric Co. 
F. \V. Stearna & Co.. Keal Eatate 
Geo. H. Blount, Real Eatate and Inveat- 
nienta 



Dr. L. A. Perce 

J. W. Wood 

Weatern Boat A Engine Worka, Inc. 

Hoy IV. Carr A Co. 

W. H. Barker, Real Eatate, Loana and 

Inveatmenta 
Globe Realty Co., Real Eatate A L.oana 
Palace Cafe, 120 Pine Ave. 
Dr. W. R. Price, Prea. The National Gold 

DredKriDK Co. 



Help— All Kinds. See Hummel Bros. & Co., 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 




NOTICE!! 



IF you're feeling well and doing 
well where you are don't move, 
but, if you're bound to move 
make a good move by moving to 

Corning, California 

which town contains about 2000 good 
American people, all of whom get 
enough to eat and wear, and find some 
time for recreation. Land is good. 
Price is low. Terms are easy. Climate 
is healthful. Water abundant. Whiskey 

BIG FIG TREE AT CORNING, CAL. .1 . i • rM") x/ 

scarce, the town being L>K Y . 
Good Schools, Churches, Stores and all modem things that go to make an up-to-date com- 
munity. Lots of free literature for distribution. Write to 



MayTFOod Colony Go. 

W. N. Woodson, Real Bstate 

J. Ei. Rugbies, Maywood Hotel 

W. K. Hays, Attorney-at-Law 

W. Herbert Samson, Mayvrood Colony 

Nursery 
A. B. Aitken, Real Estate 



Richard B. Frlpp, Insurance Agent 
Corning Lumber Co., Building Materials 
J. B. Beaumont, Klephant Livery 
Chas. Cramer, Harness and Shoes 
The Diamond Match Co., Building Mate- 
rials 
The Bank of Corning 





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SEVENTH STREET, SANGER. CAL. 
actual record we have 255 clear sunshiny days in the year, 
of the following : 



Sanger 

CALIFORNIA 
Fresno County 



The Lumber City 
The Fruit City 



T 



HE. Home of the Orange, 
Grape and Peach. Cli- 
matically — the very best. By 
Before locating visit this section or write to any 



Campbell & Root, Real E^state 
Sanger State Bank 

Kings River Stage & Transportation Co. 
D. H. Lafferty, Grand Hotel & Res- 
taurant 
Commercial Hotel, P. L. White, Prop. 
T. C. Mix, Hotel de France 
A. B. Carlisle, Sierra Hotel 
Hume-Bennett Lumber Co. 



J. M. Morro-w, Real Estate 

W. D. Mitchell, Sanger Market 

D. H. Babbe, Real Estate and Li 

Stock of all kinds. 
T. O. Finstermaker, Sanger Bakery 
P. J. Pierce, Hay and Grain 
F. H. Merchant, General Merchandise 
M. W. Bacon, Sanger Transfer 
J. N. Lisle, Furniture and Stoves 



Help— All Kinds. See Hummel Bros. & Co., 116-118 E. Second St. Tel. Main 509. 



I^cdwood 
City 



t^ 




COUNTY BUILDING, REDWOOD CITY 



THE county seat of San Mateo County. One of the oldest towns 
in California, yet one of the newest and most up-to-date. 
At the head of navigation on an arm of San Francisco Bay, and 
certain to become an important manufacturing center. 



For full particulars address an\f of the following: 



Currmn Clark. Real EsUte, 147 Main St.. Redwood, 
or, Ru88 Bldg., 235 Montgomery Street, San 
Francisco. 

Redwood City Commercial Bank. 



Redwood City Realty Co.. Inc., Redwood City. 
Savings & Trust Co. of San Mateo County. 
Redwood City Lumber Co. 
Edw. F. Fitzpatrick, Attorney-at-Law. 



-= ? S4 t? 




San Diego 



Calif 



ornia 



AMERICA'S FIRST 
PORT OF CALL 
ON THE PACIFIC 



San Diego Has 



The be»t climate in the world 
The be*t water supply in the wed 
The best harbor on the Pacific Ocean 
The ideal tile for a home 



The Culgoa. one ci the Evan* Fleet loading uppliet in San Diego Harbor. 

For information address JOHN S. MILLS, Sec. Chajnber of Commerce, or any of the following: 



Flmt National Bank 

J. O. Lendahl, Kent Batate 

Fred'k KnniNt & C«».. Keal Biitate 

O'Neall & Moody, Real Entate 

South Snn OieKU Inv. Co. 

Southern Trunt and Savlnea Bank 

H. I^ynnell, Furniture 

Pacitio Furn. & Show Case Mtg. Co. 

Star Thenire 

HonielnatI liiiproveiiient Co. 



Cottase Realty Co. 

Gunn & Jawiier, Real Estate 

Ralnton Realty Co. 

M. Hall, Real Fntate 

J. W. Manter, Patent' Broker 

Hnlney-Fiminn Inv. Co. 

Star Iluildem' Supply Co. 

Aetna Seourltlen Co. 

J. A. Jaokfton, Real Estate 



LODI 




CALIFORNIA 



Go Where You WUl 



and you cannot find any better land 
than the rich alluvial sediment so 
around Lodi. It is the most pro- 
ductive grape growling center in 
America. Nearly one-half of the 
table grapes from California were 
shipped from Lodi. This section 
cannot be excelled in this or any 
State for substantial profits. The 
vineyards yield from four to six tons 
to the acre and the F ame Tokay 
grapes bring from $40 to $80 per 
ton. Peaches, Apricots, Plums, 
Olives, Almonds, Berries, etc., also 
yield satisfactory profits. 

BEFORE PECIPIING 

where to locate, send for our new 
booklet "Lodi." Address Lodi 
Board of Trade, Lodi, California. 



Oceansidc 




The Finest Home S»te and 

Pleasure l^esort in San 

Diego County 

THE SAN LUIS REY 
VALLEY 

Which is tributary to Ocean- 
side, is a large, beautiful 
and fertile valley watered 
by the San Luis Key rivtr. 
Water in abundance is ob- .^. . 

tained from the underflow Rebuilding Comdors at San Lu.s Rey Mission 

of the river by means of wells and pumping plants. Large and small tracts can be 
bought at reasonable prices The land is adapted for fruits, vegetables, alfalfa, dairying 
and poultry raising. The San Luis Rey Mission is four miles from Oceanside in the val- 
ley and was founded in 1798. 

Finest quail and duck shooting in America. Auto road complete from Oceanside to 
San Diego. Write Board of Trade, or the following: 



H. T. Blake, Hotel 

Griifen Hayes, Livery 

Oceanside Electric & Gas Co. 

P. J. Brannen, Hardware 

First National Bank of Oceanside 

Nicholls & Reid 

M. N. Casterline, Lumber and Hardware 



Wm. M. Pickle, Express and Drayage 

John Griffin, Box 185 

Geo. E. Morris 

Chas. G. Borden & Co., Dry Goods and Shoea 

A. Walker, Boots and Shoes 

J. M. Jolley 

C. S. Libbey, Vice-President Bank of Oceanside 



Ramona Toilet 3oap 



POR 3 ALE 
EVE.P<YWHEF?E 





UPLAN D 




B€in 6»«i 
(on- 



Business ceuter of the great Ontario Colony, which lies in center of the great 
San Bernardino and Pomona Valley, 40 miles east of Los Angeles, traversed by 
Santa Fe, Salt Lake and S. P. Railroads. Upland Is the north two-thirds of the 
Colony, greatly prosperous from its splendid orange and lemon groves. At its 
many packing houses many people are employed on pay-rolls that aggregate many 
thousand dollars annually contributing to the great prosperity of its banks and 
business houses of every kind, and contributing to the rapid growth of the town. 
With Cucamonga and the greater part of Ontario Colony tributary to its business 
and Rocinl llf*» TTolanH in moBt invit.ine for tho bnainesp man or homo makeker. 

For Information and BooKlet u\.d<iress Any p/ tKe Folio-win^ 



Wllllamii Dron., Planing Mill and Con- 

trootom 
Geo. J. Cblldn Co., Real Gntate 
Coiniiierrlal Ilnnk «>f Upland 
Ontarht-CiicaiiioDKa Fruit Exchange 
Stewart CitriiM AnNfX'iatlitn 
Colborn Ilrun.* Upland Store 
H. C. Kennedy, Upland Cyclery 



J. T. Brown, Star Barber 
Atwood-lllakeiilee Lumlier Co. 
N. G. Pabl, Ileal Estate 
Gordon C. Day, Blackamlthlns 
Strachan Fruit Co. 
Johnson & Brown, Grocerlea 
Upland News 



The Reedley Country 

On the famous Kings River is in all points one of the most fertile in 
the Saui Joaquin Valley. Soil, water and sunsh ne combine to 
make it all that the most visionary booster can have imagined. 
The principal products are raisins, peaches, oranges, apricots, plums, berries, 
grain, and dairy products. 

The water system is the cheapest in the state outside of riparian rights. 
The annual cost of water under the district system, under which we operate, does 
not exceed 50 cents per acre. 

Ten acres in fruit Is sufficient to maintain all the expense in keeping an ordi- 
nary family. Twenty acres in fruit Is sufficient to maintain an ordinary family 
and hire all the work done, and spend a long vacation in the adjacent mountains, 
or on the seashore. Forty acres is sufficient to maintain the same family and to 
allow an annual deposit in the banks of $2500 to $3000, besides taking the outing. 
Good Schools, Churches, Roads, Telephones, rural deliveries, etc., etc. 

...REEDLEY... 

is the coming town in the San Joaquin Valley. It will be next to Fresno in size 
and commercial Importance In a few years. It has three railroads, with ten pas- 
senger trains daily. It has two banks with their own buildings, and all lines of 
merchandise stores. The country and the town will bear thorough investigation. 
Come and see for yourself, or address 

SECRETARY CHAMBER OF COMMERCE, 
or any of the following: Reedley, Calif. 

Lyon Land Co. Shaffer BroM. 

Stln«on-\Vebh Co., Real Estate Jesse Jansen, Jansen 'Water Work* 

Reedley Land Company I. J. Peck, Lumber Dealer 




SANJOSE 



FAM 
SANTA CLARA VALLEY 

CALIFORNIA 

Fifty mijles south from San Francisco. Population including immediate 
connect ng suburbs, 5 7,820 (City Directory Census). The Educational, 
Horli:u'tural, Scenic and Home Center of Calif omia. ^ Magnificent all- 
year-round climate. Stimulating, not enervating. ^ To learn the facts of 
this beautiful section of California, address Dept. B, 

San Jose Chamber of Commerce, San Jose, Cal. Foiiowim 



T, S. Montgomery & Son, Real Kstate 

Hotel St. James 

The First Xational Bank of San Jose 

The Bank of San Jose, California 
Security State Bank of San Jose 
Garden City Bank and Trust Co. 



Jos. H. Rucker <& Co., Real E:state, 

Cor. 2nd and Santa Clara Sts. 
E}. A. & J. O. Hayes 
C. P. Anderson & Co., Real Estate 
A. C. Darby, Real Estate 
James A. Clayton & Co. (Inc.), Real 
Estate and Investments 




"SISKIYOU 

the GOLDEN" 

Ideal Climate 

Unrivaled Scenery 
Great Cattle Country 

Immense Pine Forests 
Rich in Minerals 
Lands Low in Price 

Splendid Farming Country 
Wonderful Fruit Country 
Excellent Schools 

Healthiest Section of the West 



For additional information booklets, 
retary of the Siskiyou County Chamber 
following : 

Yreka Railroad Co. 

Scofleld <& Herman Co., Furniture 

F. Ij. Cohurn, Attorney at L.a'w 

Bird & Grant, Cash Grocers 

Avery's Drug: Store 

L. H. Lee, Fruit and Vegetables 



maps, etc., address T. J. NOLTON, Sec- 
of Commerce, Yreka, Cal., or any of the 



Frank W. Hooper, Attorney-Real Estate 
Aug. Slmmert, Meat Market 
Siskiyou Abstract Co. 
Harmon <fc Harmon, Livery Stable 
Jas. R. Tapscott, Attorney at Law 



^pjaValoina toilet5?ap 



AT ALL 
DRUG STORE? 




Porterville 

Tulare County, California 

In the Early Orange Belt 



INVITES the attention of the inteUigent homeseeker. Its 
frostless slopes of rich, black loam are underlaid 'with 
streams of water from the snows of the high Sierras. 
Fifty deep-well pumping-plants have been installed since 
January Ist, 1908. More than that number will be put in 
this season. Porterville is growing by leaps and bounds. 
Our new 30-acre park, with its waterfalls, lake and chain 
of ponds, laid out on the best principles of English land- 
scape gardening, will be the finest in California. Orange 
picking begins November 1st. Come and see us. Drop a 
card for Practical Results, Porterville Chamber of Commerce. 



Any of the FollowinK Will Supply information 



Hall & Boiler, Real Estate 

Kobt. Horbaoh. Write for Booklet 

A. J. Dei.aney Co., Hardware, Btc. 

i*«»rtervllle i>unibpr Co. 

Valley Grain & Warehouse Co. 

Wliko >IentE, Merchant 

Pioneer Land Co. 



Avery & Seybold, Real Estate 

First National Bank 

W^llliamn & Youns Co. 

Urange Belt Laundry 

Wm. A. Sears Inv. Co. Booklet free 

Porterville Rochdale Co. 

"W. E. Premo 




MONTEREY 

CALIFORNIA 



o^" 



VIEW FROM MONTEREY HEIGHTS SANITARIUM 



Vi'ONTEREY Heights 

Sanitarium is situated 
in the best part of Monte- 
rey. Sheltered by the 
pines from the full force of the ocean breezes amd yet having a magnificent view 
of the beautiful bay which, while large enough to shelter the combined navies of 
the Atlantic and Pacific, is almost completely land locked. Monterey has the 
finest winter and summer climate in the United States. 

AN IDEAL HEALTH RESORT 



J. 



lilllie Sanatorium 

>ierfhantM AsMoelntion 

>I<>n<erry County Gas A Electric Co. 

A. M. Afcicelcr. Grooer 

Dnvid Jiickn Corporation 

WriKlit & Gould. Ileal Estate 



F. M. Hllby, DruKBlat 

Littlcfleld & MasensllI, Bnreka Stables 

Francis Doud 

Ella Thomas, Real Estate 

Monterey Nevrs Co. 



Hummel Bros. & Co. furnish best help. 116-118 E. Second. 



ORLAND 

Offers Opportunities 

The Greatest in California 

THE U. S. Government is 
spending $650,000 to irrigate 
this splendid soil. When com- 
pleted this is to be the model 
irrigation system. 

^ Landowners must sell land in 
tracts of 

40 Acres or Less 



(If they do not. Uncle Sam will). Let us tell 
you all about it. Write to Frank S. Reager, 
Secretary Water Users' Assn.; P. D. Bane, Real 
Estate. W. H. Morrissey, Real Estate; R. A. 
Pabst, Real Estate, C. C. Scribner, Livery; S. 
Iglick, Physician and Surgeon. 



SARATOGA 

SANTA CLARA COUNTY, CAL. 




THE SPRINGS AT SARATOGA 

In the foothills of the Santa Cruz 
Mountains. The place for a home. Ideal 
climate and location. Quick transpor- 
tation to San Francisco and San Jose. 
Send for booklet. 

Saratoga Board of Trade, Saratogo mproTcmcnt Assodatioii 

Or any of the following: Charles E. Bell, Real 
Estate; Corpstein & Metzger, General Mdse.; Thos. E. 
Smith & Co., General Mdse.; D. Matteri, Lombards 
Hotel; B. Grant Taylor, Attorney at Law; E. C. Stam- 
per, Carpenter: H. P. Hanson, Blacksmith. 



7 vVl^'"" 



It's Summer All The Year 
at Pacific Grove, California 
The Winter Seaside Resort 

The CALIFORNIA CHAUTAUQUA on the 
beautiful bay of Monterey, 128 miles south of San 
Francisco, Sunshine and no frost. Flowers bloom 
all winter. A paradise for invalids and convalescents. 

Surf bathing every day. Fine new bath house. Won-' 
derful submarine gardens. Glass bottom boats. Boat- 
ing and fishing. Magnificent scenery and charming drives. 
Beautiful military post. Fine schools. Old 
mission and famous historic buildings. All 
round trip railroad ticket are good for a visit 
to Pacific Grove without extra charge. 
For literature and information address 
BOARD OF TRADE. PACIFIC GROVE, CALIF., 
or any of the following Brms: 
Holman's Department Store; D. R. Beardsley, Gro- 
cer; Pacific Improvement Co., Real Estate; Culp 
Brotliers, Stationery, Sporting Goods; C. S. Harris, 
Real Estate; Monterey County Gas & EUectric Co.; 
Winston & Winston, Del Mar Hotel; Alexander & 
Fitzsimmons, Real Estate; Long & Gretler, Pharma- 
cists; Strong & Camp, Real Elstete & Insurance, 
Mrs. Thomas Gibson, Grove Cafe; Thos. M. Luke, 
Mammoth Stables: W. M. Davidson, Real Estate. 




Yosemite 
Valley... 



IN 



Autumn and Winter 



THE new railroad direct to the Park 
Line renders communication now 
very easy at all times. The early rains 
have caused the falls to run as full as in 
early Spring— have refreshed vegetation, 
laid the dust and purified the air, making 
conditions ideal. The foliage has taken 
on its autumn coloring and the