194709 Desert Magazine 1947 September

8/14/2019 194709 Desert Magazine 1947 September

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M A G A Z I N E

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H A T H AP P E N S WHEN THF IQ

T H E T H IN 6 S T H A T AAAKEO R D I N A R Y OIL S 6 R E A < D O W N

A F T E R . I,OOO M I L E S OR SO AREACiorry, S L U O 6 I N 6 ANDO X ID A T I O N .

D U R I N G THEW A R . , UN I ON O/LS C I E N T I S T S D E V E L O P E D S P E C I A LC O M P O U N D S TOO V ER C O M E

T H E S E W E A KN E S S E S . T WE SEC O M P O U N D S H A VE B E E N .'I N C L U D E D IN N E W T R IT O N/^oron. OIL.

D I R T /O IL M E A N S A

C L EA N / M O T O R . !N E W T R I T ON CON-

T A I N S A S P E C I A L D E T E R 6 E N T COM-P O U N D T H A T A C T U A LL Y C L E A N S Y O U R

E N G I N E ASYOU D R I V E . ALLL O O S E N E DD I R T AND C A R B O N AREH E L D IN SUS-

P F N 5 I O N ByT H IS C O M P O UN D . T H I SM A Y C A U S E THE OIL TO D A R K E N BUT T *

D OE S N ' T M E A N THE OILS H O U L D BE" C H A N G E D .

C A N O LD E R C AR S GO0,

WITHOUT AN d i . DRAIN?

ON TRITON MOTOR OIL, YES. JUST KEEPTHE OILTO THE PROPER DRIVING LEVELAND A W CA R- NO MATTER WHAT YEAR,

IT I S - CAN BESAFELY DRIVEN FOR. 6MONTHS WITHOUT NEEDOF AN OILDRAIN.,UNDER ORDINARY DRIVIN6 CONDITIONS.

fSTUSKS' iyiMi uwuvwvvww

N O , TRITON MOTOR OIL WILLNOTTHlNOUT IN 6 MONTHS OFUSE ANYMORE

THAN ORDINARY OILS 00 IN1,000MILES. |ACTUALLY, THE DAN6FR FROM THINMIN6

% INMOTOR.OILS ISOVERRATED,SINCEIT ISONLY UNDER. VERY EXTREME

I CONDITIONS THAT AN Y DILUTION CRTHINNIN& ISEVER NOTICEABLE.

A T T E N T I O N !NEW CAR O W N f R S - A s kyour Union Oi l Dealer about thenew Royal Triton Motor Oil. It'sthe oil of thefuture designedfor postwar automobiles!Onsale in limited quantities now.

T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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C A L E N D A RAug. to Sept . 20Utah Centennial ex-

position, Stite fair grounds, SaltLake City, Lftah.Aug. 28-30Utah Indian Days, honor-in g Ute, Whi ter iver , and Uncom-pagre Indians, Roosevel t , Utah.Aug. 29-31Santa Fe Fiesta and GranBaile, Santa Fe, New Mexico .Aug. 29-Sept. 1Elko county fair andNevada stat^ livestock show.Aug. 29-Sept. 1^-Nevada rodeo andHumboldt county fai r , Winnemuc-ca, Nevada.Aug. 30-Sept . 1Dig-N-Dogie Days ro-de o and Mohave county fair, King-man, Arizonja.Aug. 30-Sept. 1Sierra club Labor Dayweekend climb to the top of SanGorgonio .Aug. 30-Sept . l^Nevada state fai r androdeo, Fal loi , Nevada.Aug. 30-Sept. 1Rodeo and Labor Dayhomecoming celebrat ion for old-t imers of Owens Val ley, Bishop,California.Sept. 2St. Stephen's day, harvest dance,Acoma pueblo, New Mexico.Sept . 4St. August ine 's day, harvestdance, Isleta pueblo, New Mexico.Sept. 5-6 Flower show, sponsored byGal lup Women 's c lub and Jun iorWomen's cl t ib, Junior high school ,

Gal lup , Ne\ | Mexico .Sept. 6 and 8St. August ine 's day, corndance, San Ildefonso pueblo, NewMexico.Sept . 6-8V olunteer Fi remen's rodeo,Wins low, Ar i zona .Sept. 11-13 Southern Utah Livestockshow, Cedar! City, Utah .Sept. 12-14YaVapai county fair, Pres-cott, Arizona.Sept. 12-18 National Softball Con-gress, world's championship soft-bal l tournament for girls , Phoenix,Arizona.Sept . 13-14Siet ra club, Nevada DesertPeaks section, climb to the summitof Charleston peak. Camp atCharleston park publ ic camp.Sept. 15-18 Animal fiesta, thre e daysof dancing, Jicarilla Apache reser-vat ion, New Mexico .Sept. 19Annual fiesta, harvest dance,Laguna pueblo, New Mexico.Sept. 19-21 Fifteenth annu al N avajocounty fair, Holbrook, Arizona.Sept. 27-28Sietra club, rock climbingsection, climb to top of Tahqui t zrock.Sept. 27-28BasstowCalifornia. rodeo, Barstow,Sept. 28-Oct. 5New Mexico state fair,

AlbuquerquSept. 29-30Sarpueblo, Tao

New Mexico .Geronimo fiesta, Taoss, New Mexico.

Volume 10 SEPTEMBER, 1947 Number 11

COVER

CALENDARPHOTOGRAPHYINDIANS

HUMOREXPLORATION

TRUE OR FALSEPERSONALITY

TREASURE

NATURE

ARCHEOLOGY

LETTERSBOTANY

MININGNEWSCONTESTHOBBYLAPIDARYCOMMENTPOETRY

DESERT TORTOISE. Photograph by Fred H.Rag sdal e, Los Angeles, California.

Sept ember event s on the desert 3Announcement of July Contest winners . . . 4Cheating is Taboo on the Reservation

By DAMA LANGLEY 5Har d Rock Shorty of Deat h Val ley 10Oasis on Bear Creek

By RANDALL HENDERSON 11A test of your dese rt kn owledge 14Perlite Miners of Searchlight

By HAROLD O. WEIGHT 15His Compass Was a Burro's Tail

By RICHARD VAN VALKENBURGH . . . 19Elfs of the Sag uaro s

By LEWIS WAYNE WALKER 23Tale of Three Rabbit Feet

By DORIS A. PAYNE 26Comment from Desert Magazine readers . . . 30Floral Butterflies and Sunbonnets of the Desert

By MARY BEAL 31Cur ren t News Briefs . 32Here and Ther e on the Desert 33Anno unc eme nt of Se ptember Photo Contest . . 36Ge ms an d Minera ls 38Ama te ur Ge m Cutter, by LELANDE QUICK . . 45Just Between You and Me, by the Editor . . . 46Humility, an d other po ems 47

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Press, Inc., 636 State Street,El Centro, California. Entered as second class matter October 11, 1937, at the post office atEl Centro, California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered No. 358865 in U. S.Patent Office, andcontents copyrighted 1947 by the Desert Press, Inc.Permission to reproducecontents must be secured from the editor in writing.RANDALL HENDERSON , Editor. BESS STACY, Busine ss Man ager.HAROLD and LUCILB WEIGHT, Associate Editors.Unsolicited m anuscripts and photographs submitted cannot bereturned or acknowledgedunless full return postage is enclosed. Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility for damageor loss of manuscripts or photographs although due care will be exercised. Subscribers shouldsend notice of change of address by the first of the month preceding issue. If address is un-certain by that date, notify circulation department to hold copies.

SUBSCRIPTION RATESOne Year . . . $3.00 Twoyears . . . $5.00Canadian subscriptions 25c extra, foreign 50c extra.Subscriptions to Army personnel outside U.S.A. must be mailed in conformity withP.O.D. Order No. 19687.Address correspondence to Desert Magazine, 636 State Street, El Centro, California.

S E P T E M B E R , 1947


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N e w s p a p e rR o c k . . .First prize winning picture inDesert Magazine's July contest,

subject, Desert Markers andMonuments, is this view of pet-roglyphs in Petrified Forest na-tiona l monument, A r i z o n a ,taken by Don Ollis of Santa Bar-bara, California. Verichromefilm was used with 1/25 sec. ex-posure at f.ll at 1 p. m. on aclear day.

W i c k e n b u r gM o n u m e n t . . .Second prize went to CyrilJohnson of Susanville, Cali-fornia, for his picture of themonument near Wickenburg,Arizona, where Mojave Indiansambushed a stage, killing sixpassengers and fatally wound-ing a seventh. Taken with2 lAx3V4 Graflex, 1/70 sec. at

f.ll, Super XX film.


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' ** is

Robert Pino, assistant to the Guild mana ger, learned his silversmith trade the hard ivayand now he is helping other Navajo craftsmen improve their product and find amarket for it.

nBy DAMA LANGLEYPhotographs by Milton Snow-

I RE Y OU Mrs. Langley? Are youthe Desert Magazine writer sentto learn about our Guild?"I turned from watching snowflakeszona. January in that high country is adreary month, and when he spoke I wasthinking of the hundreds of small Navajochildren denied the privileges of school-ing, who were hungry and cold in theirpeople's hogans."I am Robert Pino," my caller contin-ued. "We are going in the Guild truck toPine Springs today, and Mr. Churchfield

In order to determine what ef-fect the war m ay hav e had on thenative crafts work of the NavajoIndians, and what the futureholds for the tribal weavers andsilv er sm ith s, D a m a L a n g l e yspent several days on the reser-vation at the request of DesertMagazineand here is her re-port. Briefly, it is an encouragingreport, despite the competition ofwhite men who have been flood-ing the market with factory-made"Indian jewelry."

thought you might like to ride with us."Mr. Churchfield is manager of the Na-vajo Tribal Arts & Crafts Guild.While I got into a heavy coat and over-shoes the manager's assistant talked. Hewas one of the many fine intelligent youngIndians who had been in Uncle Sam's

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armed forces, and now he was back withthe Dlnne hoping to lighten their lot andmake a better life for his frail young wife."I go with Mr. Churchfield becausemany of the best silversmiths are oldermen who do not speak the English lan-guage. And Mr. Churchfield is not yetready with the Navajo!" I laughed. I couldwell understand his tardiness with "theNava jo." After 25 years among them I ama deaf-mute when it comes to carrying on aconversation in Navajo."It's a bad day to drive across the moun-tain," I observed, as we crossed to themodest office of the Guild."Yes, it is a bad day. But the people willbe waiting along the road. Mr. Churchfieldhas said we would go to Pine Springs to-day and they know he will be there!" Tha tstatement pleased me. When I met Mr.Churchfield I found myself appraisinghim through the eyes of my Navajofriends. I knew why he would meet theworkers as promised.The truck was parked beside the littlesign "Navajo Tribal Arts & Crafts Guild."It was an insignificant sign, but upon thestubborn efforts of the Guild officials andmembers rest the destiny of Navajocraftsmen and their wares.From a safe in the office Mr. Church-field had taken a glass jar of silver "fil-ings" and a quantity of silver wire whichwould be issued to members of the Guilddoing silverwork. The efforts of the Guildto secure sufficient silver for first classjewelry netted such a small amount of sil-ver slugs that it was necessary to save allthe trimmings and clippings from the fin-

ished work and remelt it to be used again.Silverwork is not an ancestral craft withthe Navajo. Less than 90 years ago theybegan their first working in metals underthe direction of a Mexican blacksmith at-tached to the army post of Ft. Defiance. Hetaught some Navajo how to work withiron, and one of these, Herrero Delgadito,"Little Lean Iron Worker," carried the artwith him when he and 12,000 Navajowere driven into exile because of their fe-rocious attacks on peaceful Indians andMexicans. This was in 1863. While at Ft.Sumner in captivity the Navajo obtainedcopper wire and Herrero taught them howto make bracelets and ornaments from it.Only 7000 Navajo lived to be returned totheir present northern Arizona and NewMexican reservation, but as soon as theyfound places to build their hogans theyresumed weaving blankets and their newart of jewelry making.

Trading posts had sprung up around thearmy posts and there was a ready sale fortrinkets. The soldiers sent them east assouvenirs. Little Lean Iron Worker madehis home at Ft. Defiance and was keptThe Guild uses no turqu oise ratherits craftsmen pride them selves on thequality and simple design of theirproduct.



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The craft spread and after Fred Harvey

There is a reason for the desire to own

post and borrow on them. Some-

The war ended: and there was no more

The government in order to check ero-

arce on th e reservation it had to be ob-

Silverwork is another matter. White

Above Indian women come to theGuild school to learn the fine pointswhich bring a higher price for theirweaving.Center Indian boys are taught de-sign and w orkmanship that they maycarry on the craftsma nship oftheir tribe.Lower In the school workshopwhere the young Navajo learn byworking in silver.

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tories almost within shouting distance ofthe reservation boundary, and are turningout tons of pseudo Indian jewelry. Theirmain talking points are: "It will introduceNavajo jewelry to the public," and, "Wewill give work to hundreds of Indian sil-versmiths." What really has happened isthat the market is flooded with flashylightweight jewelry studded with tur-quoise, which sells for a price which hand-hammered and genuine handmade jewelrycan never hope to meet. Th e scanty amountof available silver for such projects isbough t by these concerns. Navajo are hiredto sit at assembly lines doing an endlessmonotony of piece work. The old-timesilversmith, working alone in his hogan,pouring all his inherent love of beauty andperfection into his work, has no chance toearn even starvation wages without thehelp of his tribal Guild.

"Who started this tribal Guild idea?" Iasked Mr. Churchfield as we labored upthe hill toward St. Michael's mission."It had its inception during the world'sfair at San Francisco. A committee scouredthe reservation for fine old blankets andsilver work which was to appear with theArizona exhibit. Many valuable articleswere almost unobtainable, but the displayexcited so much interest among lovers ofnative crafts, the committee sought someway to enliven interest among the silver-smiths and weavers so the younger genera-tion would appreciate and practice theirarts and crafts. Ft. W ingate was selected asthe most logical place to carry on such aproject."The best spinners and dyers and weav-

ers of the tribe were employed to teachyoung girls their art of blanket making.Silversmiths from all over the reservationwere brought there to teach their craft tothe classes. Indians and white artisans werefound who could add something of valueto the teachings of the Navajo, and manyof the finest weavers and silversmiths onthe reservation today will tell you theylearned most of what they know at theWingate school."That idea was fine, but the silver-smiths and weavers living in their ownhomes wanted and needed help more in-tensive and personal than could be ob-

tained through the school. So in Septem-ber, 1941, the Navajo Tribal council voteda $10,000 revolving fund with which toset up a project to enable craftsmen to se-cure materials for their work, and throughthe organization have their wares mar-keted."Prior to the organization of the Guild,the only outlet for the crafts of the tribewas through the trading posts. Today thecraftsmen sell their work direct to theGuild for cash, with the result that theirearnings have been stabilized and in-creased. Now a Navajo silversmith orweaver knows that acceptable work will be

bought at a fair price on a day specified,and that with a portion of the money so8

Trademark of the Indian Arts andCrafts Guild. Its importance loomslarge for the N avajo craftsmen.earned additional materials for futurework may be secured at a fair price. Duringthis period of scarcity of silver and woolthe Navajo would have been almost help-less had they been compelled to dependupon their own efforts to secure workingmaterials.""You say the market has been widened?What do you mean by that?""In 1942 the Guild manager visited bigshops and stores in the eastern cities andestablished wholesale markets for blan-kets and silver work. One of those contactsis paying off this week. Did you see thebig packing cases piled in front of theGuild office? Those are full of our finestnatural color and vegetable dye blanketsselected by Marshall Field's buyer. Hespent several days on the reservation study-ing methods of weaving and silverwork sohis advertisements of Indian crafts will beauthentic. Their silver buyer will be heresoon. Such shops as that and exclusivejewelry shops such as Tiffany's and Pea-cock's handle the fine silverwork our Na-vajo are doing today. There has been suchan improvement in design and workman-ship on silver under our Guild manage-ment that it commands high prices andfinds a ready market in high class shopsand gift departments."Robert interrupted our conversation,"We had better go in to Limping Man'splace and see if he finished those conchos,"he said. There was a certain grimness inhis tone that promised something of in-terest. I climbed out of the car to enter thehogan with him.Several knocks on the door brought noresponse."Maybe he isn't home," I said. "He isat home," said Robert. "See the door is notfastened on the outside yet it does notopen. And I saw smoke coming out of thesmoke hole before we left the road." Wewent back to the car and sat there patient-ly for perhaps ten minutes. Robert wasplaying a waiting game.

The door opened but no one appeared.Again we left the car, this time all three

of us, and went into the big eight-sidedlog hogan. Limping Man sat before hiswork bench industriously filing a roughspot on a concho. He seemed quite sur-prised to see us. A brisk fire burned underthe half of a steel oil drum and a coffee potsent tempting odors tow ard our cold noses.W e gladly accepted the hot drink, but usedour own cups from the car."We have come for the conchos," Rob-ert said. Limping Man rose and unhookeda cotton sack from a peg driven betweenlogs and dumped two dozen beautifulheavy conchos onto the work bench. Ithought Robert and Mr. Churchfieldwould be delighted, but they stood andw a i t e d . Reluctantly the silversmithbrought out another sack and this one wasfull of much smaller and more delicateconchos, evidently intended to be worn bywomen with their sport clothes."Why have you taken two months to getthese ready?" asked Robert. "This is thethird time we have come here for them.You have kept the Guild's silver here un-worked while you did piece work for thefactory. That is not being a good memberof the Guild. It is not fair to other mem-bers. If you want to work for the Galluppeople, that is your business, but you can-not use Guild silver for their work, norkeep your membership in the Guild."We left the hogan with the finishedwork, disregarding the request of LimpingMan for more working silver. Robert ex-plained that other members of the Guildhad seen Limping Man making light-weight quickly done ornaments which hedid not turn in to the manager. This theyfelt definitely was not keeping the spirit oftheir Guild agreement, "One for all, allfor one." Until he could regain the confi-dence of his fellow craftsmen they hadasked that no more precious silver be is-sued to him. T hat was the only incident re-ported where a member of the Guild didnot play fair with the officials and his fel-low craftsmen. The story would go bygrapevine throughout the tribe and therewould be plenty of clucking and headshaking over it.

The snow was falling in hard wind-driven pellets as we went on towardGreasewood. Beside the road two Navajowomen wrapped in their bright Pendletonblankets had built a fire and they flaggedthe car as we neared them. Piles of ashestold how many hours they had been wait-ing. Both of them produced lovely, softblankets which they were ready to turnin to the Guild.

Robert spread the blankets on the cleansnow and they looked like subdued flow-erbeds there, with the green pinyon treesabove them and snow all around. Meas-ured and checked for uneven widths, theblankets were tucked into the car and thewomen happily pocketed their money andwaved and laughed as they turned awayamong the trees. They had been waitingsince daylight, Robert said. I knew thenT H E D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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At Greasewood community center many

esign and coloring, and were alwaysf weaving. Robert patiently pointed outive rug desirable. Perhaps it was the fine-ness of the weaving, or the combination ofcolors.

"Where did you get that cotton warp?"he asked a weaver. She named the tradingpost where she had bought it. "Then youwill have to sell your rug to such dealers.You know the rules of the Guild'EveryNavajo rug must be of approved dyes andall wool material.' I'll tell you why youused the cotton warp. You did not get towork on your rug in time to have it donewhen you wanted the money. You usedthe cotton warp in order to save time andwork. There is no place for inferior weav-ing or materials in the display room of theNavajo Tribal Guild." Robert had such away of speaking jto his people that theytook no offense at his reproofs. The weav-er giggled and other weavers shouted withlaughter at her unsuccessful efforts to slipsomething over on their fellow tribesman.Rug buying completed and raw wooldistributed by the pound to such weaversas were in need of it, the silversmithscrowded to the table with their finishedwork. One artisan began to take small soft-ly shimmering costume pins from his pock-ets, piling them in handfuls on the tableuntil half a gallon were in front of us. Ireached out and picked up some of them.They were the cherished old mould de-signs, and each article was finished smoothas satin. There were no rough edges orpockmarks for Robert to detect and refuseto accept. All over the room the watchingNavajo reached for the pins and passedthem from hand to hand. Mr. Churchfieldsmiled at my concerned look.

"They will give them all back. Not onewill be missing!" He looked at Robert whospoke to the silversmith in their tongue."He says there are 68 of them," Roberttold us.This same silversmith produced a num-ber of belt buckles and tie holders, allmoulded. T here was a time many years agowhen a great many silversmiths used themould method for their heavy items ofjewelry. Styles changed and it was onlynow and then such a piece could be locatedon the reservation. Since the mould de-S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 4 7

One of the old silversmiths be turns out good silver for the pride he has in his work.signs are always interesting and artistic,the Guild manager encouraged the goodworkers to resume that type of jewelry.The modern mould silverwork is much lesscumbersome and heavy than that of theold days.To make a mould the silversmithsearches for the light creamy stone foundhere and there around Greasewood. It iscut into slabs with a saw and thensmoothed with sand paper or emery. Oneside is left blank and a design is gougedout of the other half of the mould. This ismade as deep as the bracelet or other orna-ment is to be thick. Then in the blankstone a small funnel is carved and a chan-nel leading to the design. Molten silver ispoured quickly so that it flows down thechannel and into the hollow of the design.Sometimes the mould is greased so the sil-

ver won't stick. It takes only a little whilefor the silver to be cool enough to be re-moved from the mould and bent into theproper shape for a ring or bracelet. In thecase of pins or buckles no bendin g is neces-sary. The moulded silver must be filed tosmoothness, polished and buffed until itattains a certain desired sheen. Small pin-hole bubbles can sometimes be seen on theflat side of the article, but even the bestworkman cannot prevent it.The work is bought according to weightof the finished article and consideration isgiven to the length of time required forany special or difficult design. The Guildhas not favored its members working withturquoise. The old designs were simple,artistic and dignified and had no turquoisesets. Their charm and beauty dependedupon workmanship and design alone.


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First class turquoise is difficult to ob-tain and very expensive. The Navajo areconnoisseurs of turquoise and they favorthe hard clear blue stone without anymatrix. There has been a great deal oftrickery practiced with turquoise in lateyears. Inferior stone is dyed, or soaked ingrease to deepen its color. Such turquoisecrumbles and loses its blueness within ashort time. Considering these things theGuild members voted to stick strictly tofine authentic early designs keeping themsimple, and making their jewelry of suffi-cient weight to endure plenty of hard w ear.

"So far I have not seen any poor work.Does a silversmith have to be first class inorder to belong to the Guild? That seemsto me unfair to beginners," I suggested.Robert smiled and Mr. Churchfield an-swered, "Any Navajo, man or woman,who wants to be a good silversmith canbelong to the Guild. Our good smiths arepaid to instruct the beginners. One of thebest silversmiths in America is in chargeof the class over at Ft. Wingate and theGuild works in close contact with thatschool. Any boy who wants to be a silver-smith has his chance. But he doesn't haveto attend school." Then he turned to Rob-ert. "Where did you learn to work in sil-ver?" he asked.

"I first learned from my father and un-cle who worked in their hogans aboveLeupp. I learned by doing. They taughtme how to gather juniper wood to makecharcoal. The fire had to be kindled just atsunset and allowed to burn until it was redcoals. Then I heaped dirt on it until onlya thin line of smoke could escape. In themorning when the time came to work thesilver, those coals were charcoal and readyto be placed in the bucket which served tohold them."I learned how to melt silver in a pot-tery bowl my own mother made for thatpurpose. It was three-cornered at the topso the silver could be poured from it. Ilearned how to look for the right kind ofmoulding rock and how to smooth it bygrinding it against a harder stone. Iwatched my father make the silver beadsand solder them together so smoothly the

joining could not be seen. Then I learnedmore about it when I went to school. ThereI learned to make my own tools, includingthe rawhide hammer which flattens thesilver without leaving marks. It was thereI was taught to feel for faulty places on afinished piece. Mr. Churchfield did nottell you that often we spend several hoursin a hogan showing somebody just how tojoin the two halves of a silver bead so itwill not show solder or have any place notjoined. That is part of our work."A certain amount of the money set upby the Guild is for the instruction and im-

provement of methods used by both weav-ers and silversmiths. No sincere workerhas ever been denied a chance to improvehis art or sell his work through the Guild10

market. On the other hand the Guild willnot accept sloppy work, because thatwould react upon the entire enterprise."We visited half a dozen places on thereservation, and it seemed to me that gal-lons of lovely beads had been inspectedand accepted or rejected by Robert. Somewere large, some small. Some plain andothers bearing designs."What will you do with all thosebeads?" I asked finally. I was told that thedemand for "chokers" is such that thereare always unfilled orders on file.Days of such expeditions failed to dis-close any resentment when Robert refusedto accept an unworthy article. His tribes-men seemed to have the same sort of im-

plicit faith in his integrity that I sensed onour first meeting.My impression of the Guild and itsvalue to the Navajo tribe gained in estima-tion day by day. I saw excellent weaverswhose looms would have been idle hadnot the Guild managed to secure wool forweaving. I saw silversmiths' families fill-ing their empty stomachs with food paidfor by work they sold to the Guild. Thiswork could not have been done withoutthe silver obtained by Guild officials. Isaw buyers who had traveled two or threethousand miles select stock for exclusiveshops from the showcases in the Guild of-fice. Because this work was beautiful andauthentic it brought good prices and repeatorders.

Hard Rock Shortyof D eath V alle y . . ."Nope," said Hard Rock Shorty."I cain't tell you how hot it is. Ain'thad no thermometer since Tom-Tomleft. I ain't found one to take Tom-Tom's place."Apparently that closed the subjectas far as Hard Rock was concerned.

He slumped back in his seat on thebench in front of Inferno store andsquinted his eyes to keep out the re-flection of the midday sun.But the stranger wanted to talk.He offered Shorty a cigar. "Smokethis one, Old-timer," he said. "Idon't understand about this weathergauge you call Tom-Tom.""Oh, that wuz my old cat," saidShorty. "About twicet as good inev-ry way as any other cat yu eversaw. That is why I doubled his name.He was a vain sortuva cat, though.

Always lookin' at hisself in the mir-ror I set on the floor."Maybe you don't know aboutcats. They never sweat. Nor he cain'ttake off his furs nor fan hisself, nordo any of the things us humans do tokeep cool. What a cat does to keepcool is to stretch itself out on thefloorand the hotter it gits thelonger and the flatter it stretches out."I soon found I could measure thetemperature according to how far ol'Tom-Tom was stretched out. So Imarked the floor where his favorite

layin' place wuz. One set o' marksindicated 100 degrees. If his paws

reached to the next mark that was110 degres, and the next mark wuz120 degrees."When it'd get up to 125 degreesTom-Tom stretched so far it'd al-ways make him kinda stiff, like anover-stretched spring. Then I'dthrow him in a bucket o' water andthat would shrink him back to nor-mal agin."W ai, ol' Tom-Tom was a mightyhandy thermometer fer me fer yearsan' years. But one day I was away allday over at the mine, and durned ifthat wuzn't the record day of all time134 degrees right in the shade o'this porch. When I come back to thecabin there wuz ol' Tom-Tomstretched to the limit4 feet an' 3inches, not countin' his tail, an' histongue was hangin' out like a pantin'dog's.

"I quick got the pail o' water, andthat limbered him up a little, butthere weren't no snap-back to him.He jes stayed stretched out long. Hegive hisself one look in the mirror,an' durned if he didn't think he wuzone o' them dash-huntin' dogs, andhe lit out over the hills t' chase rab-bits."He wuz a good rabbit-chaser too.The rabbits h'd never seen any ani-mal like that. Them that didn't getcaught was so scared they left thecountry. Last I seen of ol' Tom-Tom

he'd cleared the lower hills o' rabbitsand was headin' fer Telescope peak."



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- -- vv , ,T ,v r

Located at an elevation of 2700 feet, the palms grow amongagaves, yuccas, encelia and other plants of theUpper Sonoran zone.

a.5i5 onBy RANDALL HENDERSON

Photograph taken 11 years ago w hen the author firstvisited Bear creek palm oasis with mem bers of theSierra club.Motorists on the Colorado desert of Southern Cali-fornia are seldom more than a few miles from acanyon or waterhole fringed with native palmtreesand yet with two or three exceptions thesenatural palm oases are never seen, except by thosewho leave the paved roads and follow difficult

trails. Actually, these little forests of p a l m s , rangingfrom a half dozen to many hundreds in the variouslocalit ies , are among the most amazing scenic phe-nomena in this arid region. This month Desert pre-sents another of the little-known palm groups, hid-den in a little cany on far up on the side of the San taRosa mountains.HERE'S a good trail to Bear creekoasis. But it is seldom usedprob-ably for the reason that although it

California, it is one of the leastBear creek is one of the many canyons

E M B E R , 1 9 4 7

may look down toward the west into Deepcanyon and the Pines-to-Palms highway.On those rare occasions when there is run-ning water in Bear creek, its stream flowsinto the secluded La Quinta cove on thesouth side of Coachella valley.Why it is called Bear creek I do notknow. There have been no bears in theSanta Rosas within the memory of livingwhite men. Nor have I ever seen a mapshowing this place name. Eleven years ago

when I first hiked up the five-mile trail tothese palms with members of the Sierraclub as my companions, I was told that theoriginal developers of the La Quinta town-site had built the trail and were using theterm Bear creek to identify the canyon.Perhaps a reader of Desert Magazine willbe able to throw additional light on theorigin of the name.My most recent visit to the little palmgroup high up on Bear creek was in March

11


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( \

One of the Indian trail shrines described by the author in the a ccompa nying story just apile of roc ks heaped along the trail in .accordance with ancient religious custom.

The trail ended here. We saw an old

We sat in the shade of the palms on the

The palms extended along the creek a

Recently a reader of Desert wrote ask-

ing me to tell more about the fruit thatgrows on the wild palm. It is nourishingfood. The Indians thrived on it. But thepalates of Anglo-Americans have beenhumored during too many generationswith domesticated fruits and herbs to rel-ish the fruit of the native palm.The fruit grows in great clusters much

Rounding a turn on the trail from L a Quinta, the palms suddenly come in view onthe far side of a w ide arroyo. Agave in the foreground.

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after the manner of the date palm. It ismore seed than fruit. The seed, smoothand smaller than a pea, is covered with athin skin which is almost black when ripe.The skin is sweet and ediblebut it wouldtake a lot of work to obtain enough ofthese skins to make a meal for a canary.The seed is nutritiousbut rather taste-less. However, Indian women groundthem to make porridge and bread, andsince the major part of an Indian woman'stime was available for such chores, it wasno hardship. I am sure the coyotes, birdsand rodents which eat the fruit need haveno fear that the present generation of hu-mans will ever rob their food supply.

From Bear creek oasis we returned tothe floor of the desert by an unchartedroute. Years ago I had seen Indian trailshrines along Coyote creek and I wantedto go back that way and get better ac-quainted with them. A low saddle con-nects La Quinta cove with Deep canyon.From the top of the saddle dry Coyotecreek flows west as a tributary of Deepcanyon. This pass was a much-used thor-oughfare in the days when the CahuillaIndians occupied this area and followedtrails from waterhole to waterhole.The old Indian trail through the passand over the saddle has not been used fora hundred years, and the erosion of windand water has almost obliterated it. Butthe route is well-marked by a series of 22trail shrines along a bench which paral-lels Coyote creek.And so we worked down the mountain-side to intercept the old trail near the topof the pass. Vandals have dug into two orthree of them, probably in search for hid-den treasure or artifacts. But if they hadknown more about the character of the In-dian they would have spared themselvesthe effort. Indians do not mark burialplaces or hidden caches with monuments.An Indian trail shrine is nothing morethan a pile of pebbles and small bouldersheaped beside the trail. According to Ar-thur Woodward of Los Angeles Museum(Desert Magazine, January '41), each In-dian passing that way added a stone to thepile as a prayer to the gods for good luckalong the way. These shrines are still tobe seen in the Navajo country where pass-ing Indians deposit a sprig of juniper orother green shrub on them.

In accordance with the ancient traditionof the desert, I added my stone to the manythousands previously deposited bv pre-historic tribesmen who came this way.From the Indian trail shrines we contin-ued down Coyote creek to its junction withDeep canyon, and there in accordance w ithpre-arrangements we were met by ChuckRiddell in his jeep. The road up Deep can-yon is too rocky for any vehicle except ajeep.Four years ago Maris Harvey sufferedthe misfortune to break a spinal vertebrain a fa'l from a refrigerator car which hehad climbed to inspect fruit. I had some

14

T R U E O R F A L S E Well, let's get the pencil and settle downin an over-stuffed chair, and start makingcrosses after the questions below. The lawof averages should give you 10 correct answers even if you have never seen theGreat American Desert. But you'll probably do better than that. A seasoned des-ert rat will get about 15 of them right, and that is a good score. A score of 18 isexceptional. You'll find the answers on page 44.1You can tell the age of a rattlesnake by the number of buttons in its rattle.True False2Gold is often found in volcanic rock. True False3Elwood Mead for whom Lake Mead was named was former commissionerof the U. S. Bureau of Reclamation. True False4Water in the Great Salt lake has a higher salt content than ocean water.True False5According to Indian legend Sipapu is the name of the opening in the earththrough which the first tribesmen emerged from the underworld.True False6The foliage of juniper trees turns yellow when frost comes in the fall.True False7The famous Yellow Aster mine is located near Randsburg, California.True False8Silver City formerly was the capital of New Mexico. True False........9Tallest native tree of the desert Southwest is the palm.True False10Land acquired in the Gadsden purchase was bought from France.True.- False11In certain parts of the Southwest the white ocotillo is more common thanthe red variety. Tru e False12An arrastre was a tool used by the Spaniards for recovering gold.True False13Brigham Young brought the first Mormon colonists to Utah before theCivil war. True False14Tortoises found in the desert country are hatched from eggs.True False15Dandy Crossing is a historic spot on the Rio Grande river.True False16Malachite and azurite often are associated in the same ore.True False17Winnemucca, Nevada, was named for a famous Paiute Indian chief.True False18Pinyon nuts grow underground like peanuts. True False19The Utah Centennial this year marks the 100th anniversary of the comple-tion of the Mormon Tabernacle in Salt Lake City. True False20Roosevelt dam stores water for the Imperial valley of California.True False

misgivings as to whether or not he wouldbe able to make the strenuous eight-milehike scheduled for this trip. But he camethrough with all the vigor of the dayswhen we followed desert trails togetherbefore his injury.A few days after the trip I received thismessage in a letter from him: "I have beenthinking of the splendid trip we had overthe last weekend. It was so well plannedand executedthere was no boggingdown and the food was excellent. I washappy tomake the hike. There seems to beno such thing as becoming familiar withour desert mountains. Every excursion intothem afoot is always a series of pleasingexperiences. The hike Sunday seemed al-together new to me, although I have beenin this region many times. After every restI felt eager as a kid to be away and around

the next turn to seewhat would be broughtinto view. And around the corner whichbrought into sudden sight the palms inBear creek below and beyond us was mag-nificent."

I shared Dr. Harvey's enjoyment ofthis trip. Perhaps my silent homage to theGreat Spirit of the desert when I placedmy rock on the ancient trail shrine hadnothing to do with the pleasure and suc-cess of this day's outing. Nevertheless as Iread the doctor's message I recalled thesimple prayer of the Navajo as he pausesfor the simple ceremony of placing a sym-bol on the pile of sacred rocks:"With beauty before me I walk,With beauty behind me I walk.Grant me success in myventure.In beauty I walk."



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Elaine and Bud Tanner, who believe they have developed a process which will makeproduction of synthetic pumice commercially profitable.

etlite M iner5 ofi SearchlightThere is much interest these days in perlitea new insulation materialis said to have certain adv ant age s over most of the other insulatingroducts. But perlite, described as synthetic pumice, is still in the experi-ental stag e insofar as the processing is concerned and here is the storyof a co uple of practical miners, Elaine and Bud Tanner, wh o are perfectingtheir own process in a mill Bud has inventedout among the Joshuarees of Nevada.

By HAROLD O. WEIGHTTANNER had given me exactdirections for finding his perliteclaims, which lie on the slopes of

improved trail which Bud and his wife,Elaine, had scratched across a landscapedotted with Joshua trees and Mojave yuc-ca.Bud and I had discussed perlite in Ed'scafe in Searchlight the night before. Hehad invited me to visit his claims and learnabout this relatively new industrial rock.When I reached the end of the trail Budtall, lean and seething with enthusiasm1947

was waiting beside the processing millwhich he and Elaine had designed andbuilt. Bud has an eager interest in manythings, but his passion for perlite is over-whelming.He took me to a spot where the millgave shelter from the wind, and producedsome pieces of grey, glassy-looking rock.He put hunks of the crumbly rock, whichseemed to outcrop abundantly on the sur^rounding slopes, on a scrap of iron plateand lit an acetylene torch.

"Now watch," he said. Under the flameof the torch the grey rock seemed to cometo life. It squirmed, swelled, turned white.Bud looked up with the warm smile whichcomes so easily to his tanned face. He heldup some of the white material."That's expanded perlite," he said. "It'sthe insulation of the future. It's sound-proof and vermin-proof. It won't pack and15


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Portion of the mill which Bud and Elaine designed, then hauled to the hills andset up almost without help.it won't sweat. It will expand up to 20times its original volume and become solight you can insulate airplanes with it. Itcan be used in abrasives, soaps, woodfill-ers, putty, paint pigmen t, plastics, cowfeedand chicken grits." Bud is all enthusiasmwhen he talks perlite. The rock is more tohim than the source of a possible fortune.It is a hobbya material whose seeming-ly endless possibilities fascinate and in-trigue him.

"One thing has held up widespread useof perlite," Bud went on. "There has beenno uniformly successful method of process-ing it. Now I've got a mill and furnace thatwill work. Elaine and I have been develop-ing it for more than two years. In a littlewhile we will be turning out 120 yards of'popped' rock a day."The Tanners will not sell their perlitedeposit when it is developed. They intendto settle down in the Searchlight hills.Since October, 1946, they have lived in asmall white trailer in a hollow in theJoshua-spotted hills below the millsite.The trailer's wheels have been removedand earth banked up under and around itto m inimize the refrigerative tendencies ofthe almost-continuous Nevada winds. It isbattered by years of exposure to desertweather, but the interior is friendly andcomfortable.Bud is so tall that when in the trailer hemust maneuver with his head cocked, andhe is talking about putting a box extensionthrough the trailer-side so that he w ill haveroom for his feet at night. Now and then,when the wind really blows, the Tannersfeel that they are in a small boat on a roughsea. But they are happy in the trailer.Elaine says that she will miss its compactconvenience when they move into a house.Plans for the house are already made,16

and E laine is attempting to convince plantsand trees that they should grow in the hol-low. Alders and maples are doing well,protected by burlap. Tulips grow in awooden box. But the most cherishedgrowth is a small violet-like plant raisedby Bud's grandmother in Virginia andtransplanted by his parents to northernCalifornia. Now it is thriving in an applecrate near Searchlight.But the house must wait successful op-eration of the mill. The project has beenvery much a family affair. Although FredSmith, who lives with his wife in a trailernear the T anners, has helped with erectionof the mill, Bud and Elaine did all devel-opment and testing of plant and furnace.They built the mill at Phoenix, then cutit into three sections with the torch andhauled it to Searchlight. Much of the timeElaine drove the lV2-ton truck. They hadto construct a road from the power trans-mission line to the millsite, a distance ofmore than a mile, grubbing out brush andmoving rocks by hand."Th ere were lots of rocks, " Bud de-clared wryly, "and 90 per cent of everyrock was under the surface."The mill, reassembled and welded to-gether is a towering, bulky structure."Th ree people pu t that up? " I ques-tioned.Bud grinned. "W ith nothing but a littleblock and tackle. When we hoisted dia-mond plate for the bins, the wind wasblowing so hard those heavy sheets of ironfluttered like pieces of cardboard. Whenwe thought everything was fixed we tookout the cribbing and the w hole mill starteddown hill. But some emergency bracesheld until we could block it up."

Elaine stepped out of the little trailerand waved to let us know that coffee was

almost ready. As we walked down thepath toward the hollow, the rock that Budwas mining came up for more discussion.Perlite once was defined narrowly as arather rare form of acid lava containingwater in solution. This particular lavacooled rapidly in layers, having an onion-like structure and a pearly luster due to in-terference of light between the layers. Itfrequently was formed as "bombs" by ex-plosive eruption of large amounts of lavainto the air, where they cooled rapidly w ithlittle escape of contained water.

Increasing interest in the materialcaused the United States bureau of minesto issue a preliminary survey. In thispamphlet, information circular 7364, theindustrial definition of perlite is broad-ened to include any siliceous lava contain-ing dissolved water in sufficient amount toexpand into bubbles when it is heatedquickly to suitable temperatures.Th e same lava, cooling und er differentconditions, might have formed obsidian,rhyolite, pumice or volcanic ash. Perlitegenerally is grey or blue-grey in color, al-though yellows and reds are known. Theprocess of expanding the rock is known as"popping," and when expanded, perliteusually turns white.Many deposits of this volcanic rock havebeen found in the Southwest since increas-ing commercial possibilities have led pros-pectors to search for it. But the Tannerssought high grade perlite in a quantitywhich would guarantee the future of thebusiness which they hoped to establish.While experimenting on a process forworking the perlite, they spent their freetime prospecting for it through large areasof Nevada and Arizona.Bud, studying Searchlight geology,came to the conclusion that perlite shouldoccur in the district. But mile after mile ofrugged terrain was prospected on foot be-fore he found the float which proved histheory right. Tracing the float to its source,Bud and Elaine filed their first claims inOctober, 1946. They now hold nine placerclaims totaling 180 acres. Perlite crops outover the entire area, and test holes have es-tablished a reserve of millions of tons ofgood material.Elaine doesn't look like a prospector,

but she went every foot of the way withBud. N either does she look as if she couldwork a jackhammer, drive a truck or builda mill. But she has done all of those things.Bud met Elaine while he was working at amine near Agu ila, Arizona. She lived thereon the ranch of Del Crabb, her grand-father. After they were married, they livedin the trailer and prospected and workedthroughout much of the Southwest.Wherever they go, no matter how hur-ried the trip, they find time to look at arock or prospect up a likely looking can-yon. Elaine is particularly good at findinglarge specimens a long way from the car,

Bud told me as we sat in the pleasantwarmth of the trailer.T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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Perlite the solid rock and the same material expanded by sudden heat until it is so lightthat the sm aller "pearls" drift with a gentle breeze."And I have to carry them back," he

"But it was a beautiful piece of wood,"insisted.The Tanners laugh a great deal. Their

hey even can see an amusing side

nace in the heat of a Las Vegas summert wasAfter filing on the Searchlight property

they worked. Explosives for the test holeswere spread out upw ind from the fire. Un-expectedly the wind shifted to the southand blew sparks across powder and caps.Elaine crawled between flames and ex-plosives, built a wall of rocks and stoppedthe sparks.Visitors are welcome at the Tannerclaim, but Bud cannot permit them to go tothe mill. The "popping" furnace is theheart of his new process and he is keepingit secret. It represents years of effort, oftrial and error.Rapid heating causes perlite to puff, dueto conversion of the two to five per centof contained water into bubbles of steam.Suitable temperatures for expansion varyfrom 1600 to 2000 degrees fahrenheit, ac-cording to the bureau of mines. But whenperlite is exposed to this intense heat, it islikely to become liquified, and the moltensilica fuses to the side of the furnace, glass-ing it up. Or the expanded perlite willburn; or expansion, weight and finenesswill vary with each batch.

Bud has been learning the mining gamethrough practical experience since 1934.He has prospected, worked as miner andforeman, and tested ideas of his own. Hebelieves that he has eliminated the faultsin perlite processing, and has developeda furnace in which almost any amount ofexpansion can be pre-determined. Weightof the expanded perlite can be varied from4 to \6 pounds per cubic foot.He built a small model first. Changeswere made and a scale model constructed.Then the furnace was ready for testing."The Las Vegas chamber of commercewon't like this," Bud said, "but the out-side temperature was 115 degrees. Weworked in a room 10 feet wide, 8 feet highand 30 long. The furnace heat was be-tween 1750 and 2000 degrees. You canimagine the temperature in that room."

"When we had to pass by the furnace,our clothing was scorched," Elaine con-tributed. "We kept wetting the walls andhad a fire extinguisher on hand at alltimes." By the end of August, furnace try-M B E R , 1 9 4 7 17


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TO LAS VEGASS BOULDER CITY

LEGENDTcinnerMill-Perlite Outcrops

outs were completed and final adjustmentsmade.During original tests of the crushingequipment in Pleasant valley, Arizona,clouds of fine processed perlite so filledthe air that planes and autos came to in-vestigate a possible fire. Fine perlite drift-ed under every bush within the radius of amile about the mill, and rose into the airwith the slightest breeze. Bud and Elainepractically lived in respirators during thatperiod. The fine dust was almost puresilica, and Bud has had personal experi-ence with dangers of silicosis. Now he hasequipped the mill with a classifier whichwill save the fine dust, but he insists thatworkers wear a mask while the mill is op-erating.Bud has claims of gold, chrome, copper,in several desert states. But perlite is hismajor interest. "Elaine has the latest re-ports on it," he said. "In addition to cook-ing, housekeeping, driving into Las Vegasfor supplies and helping at the mill, she isbusiness manager.""I think Bud made the most convincingtest," Elaine countered. "He filled a pie

18

TO NEEDLES SKINGMAN

pan with processed perlite and put it ona hot stove. Half an hour later, the top ofthe mineral was barely warm."Expanded perlite is a synthetic pumice,according to the bureau of mines. Pumice,which is a sort of foam formed throughrelease of pressures when a lava flowreaches the surface, has been used for many

years as an aggregate in concrete. But pum-ice has to be used in the form that naturemade it, with different types necessary toobtain various strengths.Perlite is useful as bulk insulation, andin furnaces and refrigerators. It is used inwallboard, acoustical plaster, buildingblocks, brick and tile. A Las Vegas theatersaved 21 tons in weight by using perliteplaster. It is an ideal insecticide carrier fordusting crops, being so light that it risesand covers the undersides of leaves.Mining men are watching the Tanneroperation with interest. Various methods

of processing perlite are being used withmore or less success by other operators.But these are pilot units, operating inter-mittently to determine best conditionsboth for expansion of perlite and for heat

economy in operations. None of them yethas achieved the perfect efficiency neededto make processing of perlite a great desertindustry.The Tanners have large exposures ofperlite at the surface of their claims. Theyplan open-pit mining, using a small powershovelhalf-ton or morein the pit, andconveyor belts to carry the rock to thecrusher. But R. R. Sayers, director of U. S.bureau of mines, reports that most perlitedeposits are not surface flows but are dikesor sills usually outcropping over a narrowarea. For this type of deposit, mining ulti-mately must go underground.When I visited the Tanners again inMarch, yellow evening primrose, accentedby the lavender-blue of gilia, covered thehills. Indian paintbrush was thick, but notin full bloom, and the great Joshua forestwhich lies from Searchlight westwardthrough Nipton, was spotted with creamy

blossoms. A broad, direct road had beenscraped from Highway 95 to the perliteplant. Mill and furnaces were installedand preliminary production had started.Another visit in June found the mill op-erating smoothly, with Las Vegas contrac-tors taking all the perlite that Bud andElaine could process. A bigger compressorwas on the way and three additional pop-ping furnaces were being installed. Thetrailer home-site had been moved nearerto the mill and a power plant furnishedelectric lights for the camp. A new build-ing for the furnaces had been started,

knocked down by a whirlwind and rebuilt.As for the weather: "The difference be-tween summer and winter here," saidElaine, "is that in winter the wind blowscold."There was a relatively new resident atthe campChloe, a black and white dogof varied ancestry. The Tanners had in-tended to take one of Chloe's pups, but theolder dog appealed to them.Bud watched the dog bounce across thedesert landscape. "Chloe's life is allwrapped up in chasing butterflies andbugs," he said.Bud's life is all wrapped up in process-ing perlite. The Tanners are working hard,and they deserve success. Their efforts al-ready have brought some dividends. Theyhave gained good health and a measure ofcontentment.Now and again some highly civilizedgentleman, usually with little first handknowledge, bemoans the passing of theAmerican frontier. But Bud and Elaine areas much pioneers as were the men andwomen who bridged the continent andbuilt cities in the wasteland. They have

their dream and they are following it with-out thought of physical comfort or imme-diate financial gain. The trailer has re-placed the covered wagon, but the spirit isunchanged.T H E D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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Fred Wright with a w it as sharp as a cactus needle and eyes that gleam like sapphires at themention of lost lodes or buried treasure, at 78 is still an incurab le follower of the goldenmirage that has never faded, from the veldt of South Africa to the deserts of Arizona.Photos by Pereira, Tucson.

ompa55 W&5 a. Sutto 5 "TallTHAT Fred Wright hasmoved to Tucson, the folks aroundhere say that when the coyotes and

Following this lead I went to see Fred in

And as the days of friendship extended

Fred's world-wide quest for treasureed a long way from the sun-seared des-

hful imagination

A smile flickered across his face as he

P robab ly no part of the West ishaunted by more tales of lostgold and buried treasure thanthe waterless terrain along theHighway of the Devil, Caminodel Diablo, in southern Arizona.Literally hundreds of treasureseekers have met their deathfrom thirst in that desert wilder-ness , as evidenced by gravesstill to be seen. Fred Wright hasbeen seeking his pot o' gold therefor 37 years. But El Diablo hasconcealed his treasures well andFred has only memories to showfor his years of prospecting bu tthey are happy memories.By RICHARD VAN VALKENBURGH

zona there was some Apache gold or Span-ish silver with Fred Wright's initials on it."But something always seemed to getme sidetracked. In 1899 I read in the St.Louis paper:WANTE D Muleteers for Africa.Chance of a Lifetime. O cean Voyageand Get Paid for the Adventure.

"And before I knew it I was sailing outof New Orleans on the S. S. Kildone withthe title of 'Muleteer' which really meant'waiter and chambermaid to a boatload ofseasick Missouri mules.' After 42 days atsea we rounded the Cape of Good HopeS E P T E M B E R , 1 9 4 7

and docked at East London, Cape Col-ony."Missing his ship and with only a six-pence in his pocket Fred enlisted to fightwith the British against the Boers. On thestrength of his being a crack shot he wassent to Bloomfontein, Orange Free State,where he became a member of Driscoll'sScouts. Serving out his six months' hitch,he returned to Missouri by way of Londonand the continent.But the tales of King Solomon's minesand other unfound treasure in the veldtand deserts of Africa haunted Fred. Soafter a short visit he was again on his wayto Africa with 18 men and another boat-load of mules. He rejoined Driscoll'sScouts and when peace was declared hewas rated a sergeant with a Victoria medalon his chest.For the next few years Fred prospectedfor gold and diamonds all over South Af-rica. One trek, made with oxen, took himas far north as the Zambesi river and Vic-toria falls. Then h earing of new gold fieldsin New South Wales he left Africa andreached Australia in 1903.His luck ran out in Australia and Fredsoon left for home. He arrived in SanFrancisco early in 1904. Stopping in theBay City only long enough to change hismoney, he went to Reno, Nevada, fromwhere he jumped off on a prospectingjaunt that took him through Colorado,Montana and Idaho.

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Fighting w ith the British in the Boer war, Fred got a sergeant's rating and a Victoriamedal. He remained to prospect for gold an d diamo nds. This p icture taken inDurban in 1901.

For reasons that he himself could notexplain, Fred settled down on a homesteadnear Ephrata, Washington. But even dur-ing that time he neglected his ranch to goup on the Frazier river in British Colum-bia and do some prospecting. And then"As I had not found my pot o' gold, oreven the base of the rainbow, the news ofgold strikes down in Arizona made my feettickle. So, I sold out lock, stock, and bar-rel. On December 1, 1911, I crossed thebridge at Yuma to set my feet on Arizonasoil for the first time."After a short visit in Phoenix, Fredwent on to Missouri. And after a short re-union with his folks he returned to BlackButte, west of the Hasayampa river, to dosome assessment work for a man namedYoung. Later he was employed in the samekind of work by Louis Anderson, who issaid to be still alive in Arlington, Arizona.Deciding to go on his own, Fred round-ed up a burro and headed east to wind upat Picket Post mountain, near Superior,Arizona. While prospecting there he be-came acquainted with "Yellow Dog" Grif-fith. Fred says "they called him that be-cause he always had a yellow dog hangingaround.""On e night we got to talking about cam-els on the Arizona desert. Yellow Dogsaid, 'Sure there was camels! The last onehung out around Mullen's well, west ofthe Hassayamp. What's moreI'm thefeller who found his. carcass. And shouldone look today they'll find his bones in atunnel near the well, where I buried him.'

"Then Yellow Dog went on to tell thatthere were rumors about a live camel downin the desert below Sonoita, which, as heput it, was 'a long whoop and a hollersouth of Ajo.' But what made my earsstick up was his saying that all down20

through that country there were lost Span-ish mines and 49'er treasure."Now this really stirred my imagina-tion. So I said goodbye to Yellow Dog andsteered my burro in the direction of Sonoi-ta. It was sometime in 1911 when I cameout of the desert and looked down on thatlittle green valley with its white houses bya sparkling stream of water, and I said tomyself, 'Fred W righ t you're stayingaround here for awhile.' "True to his word Fred did stay aroundSonoita for awhile. On and off for the next35 years this tiny Sonoran barrio just southof the border was headquarters. And fromremote oases in the Sonoran desert Fredsearched for adventure and hoped to makehis golden mirage a reality.Aware that Sonoita is fast becoming animportant stopping place for the travelingpublic, owing to its location on the newpavement that connects Gila Bend, Ari-zona, with Punta Penasco on the Gulf ofCalifornia, I probed to get Fred's reactionto these changes."Well," he answered quietly, "All Iknow is that in my day the little tiendacould be left open all the time with thecash box setting on the counter. When Ifirst hit Sonoita the folks down there werehappy-go-lucky with no trouble or worryto mention. We'll see what civilizationdoes to them."Prospecting out of Sonoita, Fredroamed as far south as the old Sonorantown of Caborca. And while there, I havebeen told by Mexicans, he caused greatconsternation among the natives by sug-gesting that the little santos in the chapelof the old mission of La Concepcion repre-sented the three degrees of Freemasonry!

Using the tail of his burro for a compass,Fred trekked through the Sonoran desert,

stopping at such odd sounding places asZumbador, Soni, Chiuyabi, and Quitovac,to make friends with the Papago Indiansand Mexicans. When asked regards theuse of automobiles he chuckled, "Sure Itried a Model T. But you can't get arounda burrohe don't use no gas."Then Yellow Dog's camel story unrav-eled itself. There had been camels in theSonoran desert. One of the band whichhad been brought down to the Sierra Pintamines by some Frenchmen, had turned upon the Sonoita river, but it had vanishedin the desert some years before Fred's ar-rival. Local natives recall the weird anticsof this camel, who was known as Old Esau.Soon after reaching Sonoita, Fred heardof the buried treasure of San Marcelo. Thismission had been founded in 1699 for thePapago Indians by Father Kino, about onemile upstream from the present town.There, in 1751, Father Enrique Rhuen hadbeen killed during a Papago revolt.Regarding the story, as told to him byan old Papago, Fred was evasive, "Withthat padre's ghost haunting the ruins thenatives were spooky about digging. Andthey also associated it with El Diablo, whosnuffed out the lives of over 300 emigrantson the trail between Sonoita and Yuma inthe pioneer days."Superstitious folks along the borderstill get spooky when they talk too muchabout this grave-lined Camino del Diablo.I have been told that this 100 miles of wa-terless trail was first traveled by FatherKino in 1700, but that its evil reputationcame during the days of the Californiagold rush."Many legends have sprung from thistrail which for years was my main high-way. In years past, I would come uponbleached skeletons lying out there in thedrifting sand and I have agreed it rightlybelonged to El Diablo."But to get back to the treasure of SanMarcelo. Many gold-hunters have lookedand dug. All they got was skeletons andbusted pottery. I admit I took my turnon the quiet. At the base of the wall I hita place that sounded hollow. And I said tomyself, 'Fred Wrighthold on to yourgallusesthis may be your pot o' gold!'"Then I broke into a little alcove. Allthat was inside was a polished cowhornthat had been neatly trimmed and paintedin several colors. I dug around for acouple of hours and then came back for thehorn. The sun and air had crumpled it todustjust like my hopes."

After 1913 Fred moved westward onthe Camino to the old watering place ofQuitovaquita, which is now a small Pa-pago settlement in the southwestern cor-ner of the Organ Pipe national monument.Aside from being interested in some placerdirt there, he had also been hearing prom-ising rumors about the nearby ghost-townof Santo Domingo.According to local history, Santo Do-mingo had been founded during the



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To GILA B E N D a U.S. HWY. 8 0L B E N D a U.S.; IAJO^fXilV.RO

FR E D W R I GH T STREASURE MAP..*:,: - - - . LOSPOZITOS+ |+>^?*S

SOUTHWESTERN ARIZONANORTHWESTERN SONORA

Buried Treosure ?ffi);Woter* +Lost Mines ion;Mines *Church Treosure 'MGraves "ft*Comino de/ Diab/o = =

Lost Uobonero Mrne ILost Dry Washer Mine (1876)Wagon Train Massacre (Pre-1650)Lost Sonto Domingo Lode (1880s)Buried Treasure (1890's)Lost Treasure of San MorceJo 07 50Loir Treosure and Spanish SmelterFoundations ofOld Buildings of No HistoryLost Sell of the Medonos (Sand Dunes) -

* Don'tdependon t.

NEVER TRAVEL THIS COUNTRYWITHOUT A COMPETENT GUIDEAND PROPER DESERT EQUIP-

MENT ANO REMEMBER GOLD ISWHERE YOU FIND IT.

.QUITOVAC

To CAOORCA

1870's by Cipriano Ortega, for whomCi-riano's well and mountains are named.reaming of an agricultural paradiselong theSonoita river, Ortega had built aacienda of 'dobes for his colonists, and asoap factory that ran on burro fat!"But," says Fred, "Cipriano nevershould have started his colony on the Ca-mino. For pretty soon old El Diablo tooka hand and began to play tricks. The col-onists began to find hand-stacked gold oreall over their fields. And of course theywent wild and forgot about farming.

"I sawsome of the specimens. Neitherplacer or lode, they were in sandwich formbetween twoslices of country rock withlA to Vsof an inch of gold spread on likebutter. That was gold like none that I haveever seen innearly 50years of prospecting.

"A lot of folks, including Fred Wright,tried to figure out the story and locate theledge. But no one, to myknowledge, everlearned who did the piling or located thesource. Probably it was pioneers whoplanned to come back. I guess they got

killed by Injuns or died of thirst on theCamino. Quien sabe?"Soon after locating atQuitovaquita Fredbegan hislong friendship with Manuel G.Levy, who had a trading post there duringthe 1890's. Born in Roma, Texas, Levyhad come to Arizona during the 1880's.Locating first at Nogales, he moved west-ward through the mining camps along theborder to reach Old Ajo, soon after 1900.

Of Levy's influence on his wanderings,Fred tells, "He was a great one to dig uplost history from the old Injuns andMexi-

This is the country Wright has been prospecting for 37years.In the foreground is one ofthe monuments marking the Arizona-Mexico border. National Park Service photo.

SEPTEMBER, 1947 21


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Punta Pehasco on the Gulf of California. When Wright first visited here the sea birds "wereas tame as barnyard chickens." Today, reached from G ila Bend and Ajo, Arizona, by a sur-faced road, it is a popular mecca for American fishermen. Photo by Chuck Abbott, T ucson.

cans. And many times he would tell methe tradition of a lost mine or buried treas-ure. Before sun-up the next day I'd beheading down into the desert with Levy'sgrubstake."Once he g ot me out as far as the 'sand,'beyond T inajas Altas and almost to Yuma,to look for the remains of two wagontrains. All I found was a lot of graves.Then there was the time that I packed outto Las Playas on the Camino to locate thescene of an Injun massacre where some oldMexican coins and trinkets had beenfound. A ll I turned up was some skeletons."Another time I almost gave the buz-zards a feed by getting lost down in theshifting sands of the Medanos, that lie be-tween the Sierra Pinacate and the Gulf ofCalifornia, while hunting for an old mis-sion bell that was supposed to be lost inthe sand. Old prospectors claimed thatthey could hear it ringing when they werealone or lost in the desert.'W it h no bell I came out near PuntaPenasco on the gulf. All I had found in myhunt were the corral-like houses andcemeteries of the Areneno. Many timessince, I have wished that I had picked upsome of the pottery and other Indian stuff

ying around those deserted camps."In those days Penasco was just like it22

was when Columbus discovered America.The sea birds were without fear and onecould walk among them like they werebarnyard chickens. I used to exaggerate alittle by saying that one could wade outinto the water and pet the fish like theywere kittens."After endless dusty desert milesmov-ing from one "strike" to another, with sidetrips that ranged from the Gila river inArizona to the Yaqui river in Mexico,Fred began to headquarter at Old Camp,which was located about one mile southof modern Ajo.Founded by early Sonoran miners, whogophered the native copper, Old Camp(or Ajo), before 1916 was a combinationof 'dobes, small frame buildings and min-ers' shanties. In addition to Levy's generalstore there was Tom Child's mercantileemporium, the Valley bank, and Kaigo'sJap restaurant.After the fire which destroyed OldCamp in 1916, much of the businessmoved to Clarkstown, near present Ro-wood. And soon after, the great steamshovels of the New Cornelia Copper com-pany began to take into their jaws the re-

mains of the historic camp, which todaywould have been about in the center of

one of the largest open pit mines in theworld.With his friends gravitating toward thebig company mines, Fred began to spendmore time in town. But according to asso-ciates, "Fred would be around for a spell.Then the next thing you'd hear he wasdown at Cujubabi, or some other forsak-en spot in the desert."Finally, Fred forsook his burros andbought a Model T. Ajo had certain attrac-tions. With one of the richest mining tra-ditions in the Southwest the lore and his-tory of the old camp became one of hismain interests.Today Fred lives in semi-retirementtrading yarns with old friends. Of a dif-ferent nature than those who turn sour atthe continued "petering out" of fortune,his eyes twinkle as he tells, "I was luckyto get my coffee in one gulch and my baconin another. But never have I seemed to beable to get both in the same place."

Even though Lady Luck has never beengood to him, Fred is content. His wealthis in his memories instead of his pocket-book. His treasures are in the recollec-tions of adventures and true companion-ship he has encountered in 37 years oftraveling over desert trails in search of thegolden mirage that never fades.T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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These baby elf owls have grown old en ough to venture forth from their home in thesaguaro. On their first trip they flew to a nearby ocotillo.

the S&auatoiAlthough among the most common denizens ofthe desert, the elf ow l is a: comp arative stranger

even to long-time dwellers in the desert country.During the day they remain in hiding, generally inan old woodpecker cavity in a saguaro cactus. Atnight they dart through the air and are often mis-taken for bats. The author spent many sleeplessnights getting the pictures and facts for this story.By LEWIS WAYNE WALKER

Photographs by the Author/ 7 T WAS while camping at Budwieser spring at the baseV of the Kofa mo untains in Arizona that I got my firstglimpse of elf owls. A Coleman lantern was illuminatingthe goat-nut and greasewood bushes that hedged the campsite.It had been placed well to one side to lure the night insects awayfrom our bedrolls.Suddenly from the darkness there emerged a fast flying bird

S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 4 7

which darted to the ground under the light and then vanishedas abruptly as it had appeared. Periodic visits continued as longas the illumination remained and throughout the rest of thenight we could hear plaintive whistles from the underbrush.Several months later, in early May, I returned to the regionequipped with extension ladder and blind-building materialsfully prepared to pry into the home-life of these secretive desertowls.That first day's search for the ideal nest was back-breaking.Practically every saguaro had one or more holes which weresuitable for elf owlsand there were thousands of saguaros. Idisturbed sparrow hawks, screech owls and red-shafted flickers,as well as a few elf owls, but it was not until late afternoon thatI found an occupied cavityperfect for the planned photo-graphic study.The hole was like the hundreds of others that I had probedbut a little to one side of the opening there was a patch of greyfluffy down im paled on a cactus spine. My hopes rose on seeingthis tell-tale mark of a bird of prey. With a tiny mirror, usedin conjunction with a flashlight, a beam of light was directed

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in and down. Huddled at the bottom of the cavity there wereseveral young elf owls and crouched above them in protectiveattitude stood their diminutive parent.Two-by-fours and a ready-made platform were brought fromthe truck but despite our haste daylight vanished before theblind was cbmpleted. However, even as we worked, the owlsshowed themselves to be trusting characters and not afraid offlashlights. The rasp of saws and the hammering of nails didnot keep them long in seclusion when the time came for themto forage over the desert. A motion drew our attention to thenesting hole. There, hovering on rapidly beating wings, wasone of the adults. He stayed for several seconds then flew a few

feet away and landed on a nearby ocotillo. Then calling softly,he lured his mate from the nesting hole and she passed withininches of my face as she flew off to join him.This show of bravery made us alter the plans for our blind.We had expected the birds to be very shy and assumed it wouldtake both patience and skill, as well as luck, to out-wit themin this photographic endeavor. Now, however, we omitted thetightly enclosed box we had planned to build and instead placedthe cameras, tripods and silvered reflectors in plain view onthe open platform.Even when I crouched behind this imposing array, the birdsmaintained their fearless attitude and flew to the nest with var-ied types of prey. Scorpions, spiders, vinegaroons and smalllizards seemed to have top billing on their menu, but they alsobrought in a few moths, beetles and wasps.A score of feet from the nest there was a beautiful agavebloom and after I had been watching a few hours I noted thatthe birds often flew to these clusters of yellow flowers. A fewmoments later they would dart back to the nestlings with food.Finally my curiosity got the upper hand and I descended fromthe platform and crouched below the flower stalk. In the beamof the flashlight I could then see the myriads of moths, waspsand beetles buzzing about, drawn to the nectar which in turncreated an "automat" for the owls. From these flowers theycould take their pick of the prey they desired and there were

thousands of blooms scattered about the valley.Not all of their hunting was carried on this easy way. I oc-casionally saw one of the adults perched among the thorns of anocotillo and scanning the ground below. And then, like thediurnal sparrow hawks that use telephone wires for lookouts,the owl would suddenly power dive earthward for a scorpion,centipede or lizard.That they sometimes caught small rodents was evidenced bythe refuse in the nest. There were a few tufts of buff hair, left-overs from meals of the tiny pocket mice that inhabit the region.But during my week of observation, wherein my nights wereAn agave in blossom lured night-flying bugs and insectsand there the el] owls got most of their meals while theblossom season lasted.The mother owl had just caught agrasshopper as this picture w as taken.

24 T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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Doris and Frank Payne, whoseadventure in field archeology istold in this story, live on their 120-acre Bar-O ranch on the semi-desert mesa near Aguanga,California. Frank's hobby In-dian cultures and artifactswasbegun many years ago in Ore-gon when they lived at KlamathFalls near the Klamath reserva-tion. Frank's Indian relics, saidto be one of the most beautifullymounted private collections inAmerica, were exhibited at theSan Francisco World's Fair. It isnow in storage, but the Paynesare planning an adobe fireproofbuilding at the ranch where itwill be on display later. Doris isa newspaper and magazinewriter, and the author of "Cap-tain Jack, Modoc Renegade," apopularized story of the ModocIndian war.

The three rabbit feet w hich formed thevery center of the cache, shown in the basketin which they were found. Photo from Carnegie Institution of WashingtonPublication 538.

7eet^ I RANK crouched on the floor of/ the cave, his lean body tense. Bythe light of a lantern, he waspeel-ing back layers of rat-dung, dirt and strawfrom a small area. Suddenly a metallicsound signalled that his trowel had strucksomething hard.It was a large, flat rock. He lifted it tofindanother large, flat rock. Painstak-

By DORIS A. PAYNEingly he brushed it clean and exploredwith his fingers around the edges. I wascraning my neck over his shoulder and,as he lifted and laid it aside, we bothsucked in our breath simultaneously. Aftera look at what lay beneath, all I could saywas, "Yipes!""A cache!" said Frank.

So our insignificant clue was about topay off! I felt in my pocket. Yes, it wasstill there: a tiny stick of wood three incheslong, smoothed and shaped to a sharppoint onboth ends. Ever since myhusbandand I had made a previous trip to Mas-sacre lake in northwest Nevada it hadbeenacting as a double-ended goad, impellingus back to this place.A profile view of the escarpmenton which a den of rattlesnakes defied the Paynes in theirattempt to reach and excavate the shelter and cave near the top.



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As the author and her husband examined the artifacts screened from the occupation debrisin the cave, they realized that not a single piece suggested the rem otest relationship withthe w hite m an. Photo by the author.Two things had lured us originally to

ndian artifacts was to be found there was

A golden eagle had led Frank to dis-among sand dunes bordering the shallowake when the magnificent bird drew oura certain section of the rim-rock that rose200 feet above us. The possibility of find-ing the eagle's nest spurred Frank to climbthe rugged slope.The nest was never found. That tinystick of wood, now in my pocket, hadcompletely erased it from Frank's mind."Doesn't look like much, does it?" hegrinned. "But it tells me a lot.""Tells you a lof?" I echoed."Sure. Found it on the floor of a shelterformed by that overhang in the lava. Don'tS E P T E M B E R , 1 9 4 7

you see? It means that it's been occupiedby primitive man. No animal could haveshaped a stick like that. It had to be aman!"Two years had elapsed since then. Dur-ing that time, our work in helping to re-construct the life of early man in the north-ern Great Basin had been recognized bythe University of Oregon. The time wasripe for us to attempt a strictly scientificcave investigation on our own. With theclue-stick pointing the way, we packed upour gear, took our 16-year-old son, Ward,and set out to try our luck.So it was that early one morning in Sep-tember we left our dry camp at the base ofthe rim-rock, loaded down with hand-picks and trowels, screening box and lan-tern, brushes and shovels, camera andflash bulbs. We had toiled perhaps halfway up the treacherous lava talus towardthe shelter when from above came a bar-rage of soundthe spine-tingling rattle-snake warning that means "No Trespass-ing." I jumped at least a foot, landed onsharp-edged volcanic rubble, scrambled toregain my footing and came to rest on thesteep slope yards below."Rattlers! Dozens of 'em!" I shouted.

Frank and Ward, who had left campafter I did, were soon beside me. "A nestof 'em, for sure!" Frank said, breathinghard. "No use trying to kill 'em. Toorisky. Take too long.""But this is the only approach to theshelter! They're scattered all over it!""We'll get past 'em some way!" Frankvowed.A quick reconnaissance suggested thatour best bet was to hug the face of the ba-salt ledge bordering the rubble-strewnslope. As we edged along, two rattlerschallenged our progress, only to fall vic-tims to Ward's shovel. Their buttons werethe first of 23 sets which bulged his pock-ets before we started homeward!A half hour later, we had settled downto work in earnest, our dust masks givingus the appearance of strange beings fromanother world. Shovel after shovel full ofdirt was removed from the floor of theshelter and screened.Then Frank's shovel sank deep into anash deposit toward the rear of the shelter.The bottom of the screening box becamebarren of anything except charcoal. Themore he shoveled, the more ash ap-peared. Probing about, he discovered that

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Massacre*>>Middle

West Lake

IKMASSACREAKE

OWINNEMUCCA

To BLACKROCKDESERT

N E V A D A II

it was coming from a hole in the face of theshelter wall. He moved some large wedgesof rock. The hole became larger. He shov-eled more ashes, removed more rock. Atlast the hole was large enough for Wardto wriggle through.Our eyes didn't leave that opening un-til we heard his muffled voice saying:"Gee, it's a regular cave!"I squeezed my way in. Frank followedwith the lantern. The light revealed a roomapproximately 10 by 14 feet. The jaggeddome-like ceiling was so low one could notstand upright, and so blackened withsmoke that only here and there did the barebasalt show through. An accumulation ofrat-dung covering the floor to an averagedepth of three inches, combined with thefine wind-blown dust of centuries! Themusty odor was far from pleasant.Our impulse was to start scratching atrandom, like dogs turned loose in a flow-er bed. Instead, we restrained ourselves infavor of the scientific approach. After en-28

larging the opening still more, we markedoff the area with pegs and string into twofoot squares. Then test holes were dug todetermine the direction most likely tobring results when we began trenching infrom the entrance.The first test hole yielded a glisteningdart point of black obsidian, that volcanicglass so perfectly adapted for the arrow-maker's craft. Three more test holes pro-duced nothing but straw and refuse. Whenwe started our two-foot wide trench it im-mediately turned up the nock end of anarrow shaft, its sinew binding still inplace.Slow, steady troweling extended thetrench deeper into the cave. No layering ofoccupation levels was apparent. Through-out the depth of the accumulated debris,averaging two feet from the surface to thered cinder floor, we found artifacts in theiroriginal position. Such were a hollow bird-bone awl, a hide-scraper, a fire hearth, partof a rabbit snare, and a sinew-bound sec-

tion of an atlatl dart shaft, a weapon usedprior to introduction of bow and arrow.Scarcely a screening box of material butrevealed small bits of apocynum fibercord, charred split bones of birds andmountain sheep, twisted split tule frag-ments of basketry and matting, more dartand arrow points.Becoming clearer with each additionalpiece found, a picture began to take shapein our minds: Dark-skinned hunters, theirquivers and bows or atlatls laid aside, satcross-legged or sprawled on mats aroundthe fire. Odors from their supper of game,roasting on the coals, mingled with that ofburning sage, to give them a sense of an-ticipation and well-being.Occasionally a bead, or pendant, orfeather, forming part of the personaladornment of these men, would be high-lighted by the glint of firelight upon bird-bone, shell or coyote tooth. And when themeal was over, and the dying coals permit-ted the penetrating cold to seep into thecave, each one wrapped himself in a blan-ket of rabbit skin and stretched out todream of the deer, or antelope, or moun-tain sheep that had fallen that day to hisprowess.

When the shadows were stretched al-most to the limit, we stopped work and as-sembled our findings neatly in hosieryboxes, savoring the unique quality of each.Only then did we realize one importantfact: Among them was not a single piecesuggesting relationship with the whiteman!Too tired to start immediately for camp,we sat and watched the setting sun sum-mon colors from nowhere on this earth andspread them over the blue wash of sky.As if startled by the nearby yap of a coy-ote, Frank leaned forward from his boul-der back-rest. "I'm going back into thatcave," he said. "Maybe I'm balmy, but justas we left it, I saw something that gaveme a hunch. If I don't go back, I won'tsleep for thinking about it!" Since thereis no logical answer to one of Frank'shunchesnot even food and restI be-gan pumping up the lantern.Back in the cave, he pointed out a spotwhere ash had sloughed away from the

profile of the trench. Protruding from thebank, was an edge of charred matting."Probably just another fragment," hesaid, "But I've got to find out."Inch by inch, troweling, brushing, heremoved ash and debris until a section ofcoarse woven-work as large as your handwas exposed. As he continued, no edgeother than the selvage appeared.Suddenly Ward, who had been busykilling rattlesnakes, stuck his head in theentrance. "I'm hungry!" he announced."When do we eat?"Frank straightened up. He stared for amoment at the section of matting he hadexposed. "Boy, we've got somethinghere," he said. "Something too big to beT HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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LETTERS...The Mo ob Petroglyp hs . . . The Padres Led the W ay . . .Albuqu erque, New Mexico Banning, CaliforniaDear Desert:Thirty-five years ago I took a trip withthe late E. A. Sherman, then regional for-ester at Ogden, down the Colorado fromMoab, Utah, to the Indian inscriptions de-scribed and pictured by Beej and Paul Av-eritt in the Desert Magazine for August.In Moab we had asked "Old Wash," anaged Paiute, as to history of the inscrip-tions, but he replied: "Me no ketch 'em;me father no ketch 'em; too many snows."Mr. Sherman and I felt that these inscrip-tions, like highly illuminated manuscripts,were left for the information of future visi-tors. The largest one seemed to say thatgame had been plentiful, and there hadbeen a feast, perhaps in connection with awedding, for a standing couple heldhands.Sometimes one of these sketches in-cludes a line, apparently directing a trav-eler how the sheer canyon wall can bescaledundoubtedly better by an Indianin moccasins than by his less surefootedsuccessors. I was told that a "wall-map"on the north side of the Colorado rivercrossing near Moab gave accurate direc-tion to a spring, the presence of whichwould otherwise have been unknown.Q. R. CRAFT Lost Mine Hunter Census . . .Long Beach, CaliforniaDear Mr. Henderson:I've had 45 inquiries about my lost sil-ver ledge in the Chocolates (Desert, June,'47) and all of them intend to go and lookfor it. It's possible that some one out ofthe bunch may be lucky enough to locateit. Two fliers have tried to locate it fromthe air by taking pictures. They are goingto make another trip over the area soon.You called the turn when you said astampede would happen.L. HARPENDING More of the Same . . .Fallbrook, CaliforniaDear Desert:So someone thinks there are too manypalm trees, huh? Personally, I enjoy eachand every "count" and hope the jeep keepstaking R.H. into the far placesandbrings him back so he can report throughDM,pages. Just between you'ns and me,though I'm a semi-hound myself, it seemsas though a lot of pages are devoted torocks and affiliated activities. Not that Idon 't read and enjoy all of it. The only im-provement that I can think of for DM is"more of the same," even if it includessome of the ' bales" of discarded poems.KATHERINE McEUEN30

Dear Randall:Every so often we are told, as repeatedin a recent Desert, that the Mormons werethe first to introduce irrigation in the U . S.Nowise wishing to dim the splendidachievement of the Saints in watering theirmountain valleys, we should bear in mindthat irrigation was practised in Californiaa generation before Joseph Smith receivedthe plates of the Book of Mormon.

In Mission Valley, San Diego, there

194709 Desert Magazine 1947 September

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Transcript of 194709 Desert Magazine 1947 September