Death Valley
Away out in California, near the Nevada line, lies a lonely valley. No one lives in this valley very long; it is a very lonesome place. In the winter the thermometer goes down below freezing point at night and rises to eighty degrees during the day. This is the pleasant time of year. In the spring and fall violent wind storms sweep over the desert, for it is a desert—the Mohave Desert—and in the summer the hot wind blows, drying up every drop of moisture and baking the country as if it had been placed in a baker’s oven. The few who must stay there get a leather-like skin from the heated wind and the glaring sun, with never a cloud to hide its pitiless rays. Sagebrush and greasewood are found here and there, and in the infrequent river bottoms a few willows are seen. Fissure springs, from deep faults in the earth’s crust let out small streams of water from sources far remote; sometimes fit to drink; sometimes loaded with salts in solution and sometimes hot. Such a spring is that which gives rise to Willow Creek which rises among the niter hills of the Great Basin and empties into the Amargosa River a short distance below its source. Alas for the name! The Amargosa “River” turns out on examination to be a stream scarce large enough to turn a mill. After a run of less than 25 miles it sinks into the sands to rise no more. Shortly below this place we findSaratoga Springs and “Lakes.” These “Lakes” are perhaps 10 feet in diameter. All along the banks of the Amargosa the water as it evaporates rapidly in this thirsty land leaves a white crust of salt, soda and borax. In many places, scattered over the desert, deposits of mixed salts have been left by evaporated water which glisten in the sun from a distance. As the weary traveler walks through them the alkali rises in fine white clouds burning throat and nostril and biting the skin into sores.
Over this desert roams the dismal coyote—always hungry, anIshmaelite. Kangaroo rats swarm in rocky spots; the side-winder threads his snaky way; and lizards and tarantulas scuttle to their holes to escape the traveler.
In 1849 the Bennett family wandered into this valley and perished, giving to the valley its name. All along the wagon tracks—for there are no roads—bottles, tin cans and the skeletons of abandoned animals mark the progress of civilization and the survival of the fittest. It is a weary land; over 400 feet below sea level; bounded by the black rocks of the Funeral Range on the northeast, the Kingston Range on the north, the Shadow Mountains on the southeast, the Avawatz Mountains on the south and the Telescope Range on the west. These mountains rise in some places to a height of 10,000 feet. The springs are far apart, from 30 to 90 miles, often with a very small flow and hard to find. At Cave Wells, forexample, the traveler in search of water goes into a hole in the side of a cliff and descends a few steps to the margin of a shallow pool with no apparent overflow.
“When does your uncle come for you, Jack?” said her friend.
“To-morrow morning,” Jack replied.
Next morning her friend was getting breakfast when a knock sounded on the door. When the door was opened, a wiry, pale-faced man stood in front of her.
“Where is Jack’s kid?” he enquired.
“Upstairs in bed,” was the reply.
Without a word he brushed by her, mounted the stairs, opened the door, bent over the half-awakened girl, put his arms around her and kissed her.
“Is your name Jack, too?” he enquired. “You are a mighty nice-looking boy and I will love you and look after you for his sake. Now I must go. We will leave for the west at 10 to-morrow morning. I am ordered to the desert to spend the winter there in the out of doors for the sake of my health. Get yourself a corduroy suit with high-laced boots. Here is some money. I will be here for you at nine-thirty. Good bye till then!” So saying, he turned, rushed down the stairs and out of the house.
“Did you ever see such a whirlwind?” said Jacqueline. “He thinks I am a boy, and he will be disappointed and not let me go. What shall I do?”
“Go as a boy,” said her friend. “You are slim and can easily pass as a boy. I will help you get ready. Come along!”
Next morning when Uncle appeared Jack was ready, dressed in corduroy knickers, stout, high-laced shoes, short, thick corduroy coat and felt hat.
“Well, come along!” said Uncle, “We have just time to make the train.”
At Salt Lake City they outfitted for the desert. Five burros were bought, two for riding and three for packing. Jack’s burro was called Jenny. Jenny was a canny animal. She grunted at every step. Her progress might in some measure be likened to that of a drove of pigs, except that her grunts lacked the solidity and conviction which characterize the grunt of the real porker. Mexico is the real land of the burro. Here they are used to such an extent as freighters as to threaten the existence of the railroads. The Mexican will load his burros to their full capacity and at the stopping places let them graze. No food is provided except what they can pick up. If there should be no food and the animal starves he buys another since this is the cheapest plan.
They carried a light rifle and two Colt’s revolvers, or “Guns” as they are called in the west. There was a tent, two blankets, a bucket, a frying pan, two large canteens, a spade, pick, axe, plenty of coffee and tea, canned baked beans, hard bread, bacon, butter and lard, some flour and feed for the burros.
Neither one could bake or shoot but Uncle remarked that there would be time enough to learn and plenty of teachers. Notwithstanding his quick and sometimes almost rough manner, Jack soon discovered that Uncle was growing fond of her and was really very kind. At first she was very tired as night drew near after a hard day’s riding over the rough trails. They went slowly of necessity, for the burro is not a fast goer and dislikes hurry to an extreme. As the days went by she found her strength growing. He, too, appeared to benefit. They ate plain food, drank nothing but water, and coffee or tea, and retired early and slept soundly. Occasionally they stopped at a settlement, ate a square meal, renewed supplies, had a bath and made ready for another trip.
In this way the winter passed rapidly. Jack learned to shoot, and, profiting from the directions of a good-natured miner, after several failures, they learned to make fair bread.
Jack’s greatest trouble was her cowardice, because she felt sure her Uncle would detest in a boy what he might condone knowing her to be a girl. She made desperate efforts and finally succeeded in controlling her fears moderately well. The dislike she had for shooting was never overcome.
Most of all she enjoyed the evenings by the camp fire when the exertions of the day had not been so great as to compel early hours. Here she looked into his heart and found it clean and good.
There were plenty of indications that all the men one might meet were not of his kind. Bottles innumerable left along the way testified to the fact that though the desert might be dry the travelers were not.
They traveled down the post road from Milford to Delmar and from there struck across country, intending to cross the Hiko, Paranaga and Belted Ranges and strike the Amargosa Desert to the south. These ranges cover a very rough and broken country, and progress was slow and difficult. Several times they were lost, and only the compass finally enabled them to escape from the mountain tangle. The greatest difficulty was in the supply of water for the burros. Their own supply could easily be carried. Several times the burros were saved from death by the finding of one or two barrel cactuswhich were cut up and fed to them as both food and drink.
With all his good nature Uncle made her toe the mark. He did not believe in spoiling boys. They were generally lazy and he was determined Jack should do her full share of the work, but he did not always remember this. Being naturally lazy she resented being driven. She much preferred to lie around and read, or to lie abed and see him get breakfast, but he usually routed her out. He was anxious that she should grow strong and made her work in order that she might do so but uncomplainingly and as a matter of course he shouldered the heaviest part of the load. It may be imagined, therefore, that her regard for Uncle grew greater day by day. There was bread to make and he made it; the water grew short and he went without; the burros strayed and he went after them,—not grudgingly but without complaint. She had heard of him through her father’s talks many and many a time. She had learned of his goodness to her father; and here he was, unselfishly giving to her all he could give, freely and as a matter of course. Such conduct makes a friend of any generous-minded soul. It slowly converted her regard into devotion. She began to look for opportunities to serve him. To do anything for him became a joy.
They were nearing the Amargosa and were sitting at the camp fire one evening when he said: “Jack, you are the very nicest boy I ever knew. I thought your father was the finest man on earth but I have lost him forever. I have found you instead. I am selfish and I would like to have you both; but, oh, my dear boy! I am so glad to have found you.” Jack said nothing but she turned her face to conceal the tears.
They had been many days on the road. That afternoon they crossed the Funeral Range into Death Valley. The rocks of this range are black, rough, crumbly and forbidding. It is a bad climbing ground for the rocks are rotten and afford very insecure support. As they were slowly and painfully groping their way down into the valley a rock upon which he was standing gave way and he came sliding down in an avalanche of stones and dirt. She saw at a glance that he was headed for a precipice and without hesitating a second threw herself in the way. He was stopped but she slid many feet, turning over and over and landed against another rock, just on the edge of the precipice, covered with stones and dirt. Hastily he tore the spade from the pack, rushed down and uncovered her. Her coat was torn and her shirt in rags. She was unconscious as he laid her on the ground and cleaned the dirt from hands and face and gave herwater to drink. Slowly she came out of the daze to find him anxiously bending over her.
“Were you hurt?” said she.
“No,” he replied, “see whether any of your bones are broken.”
They camped at Saratoga Springs and from there traveled by easy stages to Daggett and thence to Los Angeles. All the way he was quiet, and she viewed him with apprehension. On the way east he sat beside her in the Pullman.
“Why did you not tell me you were a woman?” said he.
“I was afraid you would not take me, and I wanted to go.”
“Well, it’s too bad. I suppose now I must send you off to live withsome one else.”
“Please don’t do that Uncle, I couldn’t bear it.”
“What can I do then? Get my sister to live with us?”
“Why yes, I suppose so. There are evil tongues. We must have some one.”
His sister saw at once that she must play the rôle of huckleberry, and felt no great eagerness, but good-naturedly consented at last, firmly resolved to aid fate as much as possible so that she might go back to her own work.
The play began with taking them to the theatre twice a week when sister was careful that Jack should sit next to brother. It continued by taking them to the country for the summer. Then they came back to the city again and missed the long walks and the pleasant companionship of the afternoons with nothing to do but exchange ideas. Then Uncle was called to Chicago on business for a week. This lengthened to two weeks. On returning he was so glad to see her that he kissed her and she impulsively returned the kiss and fled. How could a lonesome bachelor long resist such a combination of youth, beauty and love. There was a quiet wedding soon in which two hearts as well as two hands were united. They are not lovers, they are chums. He knows her thoughts and she his—they like each other.