193909 desert magazine 1939 september

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nTop o1 the Hill4 miles west ofJacumba, CaliforniaDear Editor :

The Desert Quiz is my favorite indoorsport. In June and July I missed two ques-tions each. But I am getting better, as I gotthem all in the August issue.Having covered the desert and mountainsfor the past 15 years hunting Indian relics,hot or cold I love it. H A P P Y ,"The Old Man of the Mountains ."All right for you, Happy. You're thefirst 100 percenter we've heard about.You are getting too good we are going

to make the next Quiz tougher. Editor.

Pasadena, CaliforniaGentlemen:W e do not know Desert Steve, have noteven had the privilege of visiting his DesertCenter, but our household feels that both heand Desert Magazine deserve a hand on his"My Friend, the Tortoise" in July Desert.Anyone who undertakes the championshipof animals abused by man assuredly has some-thing to say, and Desert Steve knows how tosay it. Sincerely yours,

LAURA C. PETERS.

Roosevelt, ArizonaDear Mr. Henderson:Ever since my introduction to the DesertMagazineespecially since your publicationthrough Mr. and Mrs. Ruess of their sonEverett 's letter to Mr. Reynolds and me Ihave wanted to express our appreciation. TheDesert M agazine is a delightful publicationthat holds interest for our entire household.Yesterday we had a laughable tragedy -or a sad comedy that I described for myson's memory book. Perhaps it will give youa smile too, so here it is:He jell into a cactus that little boy ofmine:One would think he had the measles forhe looked as red as wine!His playmates roared with laughter whilethey pulled each cactus spike,For Charlie did a "strip tease" right therebeside his 'byke'.Probably many readers have noted in thisissue of D. M. that Mr. Barnes put Globe,Arizona in Pinal county instead of GILA, aperhaps natural thing to do with the Pinalmountains and Pinal creek both right there.Gila county made an impression on me be-cause it touches Maricopa county on top ofRoosevelt damcrossing the dam far off itscenter. Mr. Reynolds and I were married onRoosevelt dam and had to be certain the cere-mony was performed on the Gila end, hav-ing obtained our license in Globe, the countyseat.

Best wishes to you and to all who assist inmaking the Desert Magazine so fine.ELEA N O R REY N O LD S .

Dear Randal l : 1000 Palms Oasis, California

Pasadena, CaliforniaGentlemen:Enclosed please find $1.00 for a binder formy husband's recent copies of the DM. Hehas all the first copies in a binder that webought in May, but he needs another.W e enjoy reading all of the magazine. Don'tlet anyone make you think that it should bechanged very much, and keep up the good oldaverage by limiting your articles to aboutthe length they are now. At least that iswhat we like. A D A G I D D I N G S .

Your last issue was so darned good that weare getting up a few to go over to the Gallupaffair and later maybe attend the snake dance.That article on the gold was fine as the devil.W hy there m ust be just lots of gold if onlywe knew where to look.Have had an eventful summer so far. Hikedup San Jac like I saidnot up Snow creek.Had a four-day hike and I never will do any-thing quite so foolish. I learned a lot, any-way. It is steep up there, Randall. I livedthrough it, and then, from Idyllwild I hikeddown to Palm Springsand got lost! I hada potato cork in my canteen. It came out,and when I stumbled, all the water was lost.I tried to make it down to Palm Springs viaTahquitz ridgeabout the most foolish thingI could have done. They found me deliriousin back of the Tahquitz Estates, and the care-takers for the Davis estate found me and re-vived me. It was worse than a case of dy-sentery, believe me. My stomach acted up fora week.Then there was a tea party that got threeof us. Datura turned out to be a drug strongerthan we expected. I read an article in yourmag about the Dream Plant of the Indians.We tried it. Randall, it worked! But goshsakes, we had nightmares, not dreams, andfevers up to 106 degrees. Almost killed onefellow from England. The Indians gave ussome bark to chew on, and it helped a little.All my regards to you, and being inquisi-tive, you better not publish any more storiesof dream plants!

P A U L W I L H E L M .

Dear Sir : Dodge City, KansasThe Desert Magazine is the most perfectand beautiful writing to come out of the west.I wish I had spare time to write you some ofthe many grateful thoughts I have known sincereceiving my complete file of the magazine.For Mr. Henderson, the editor, I want tosuggest a new and novel way to reach theNatural Bridge, Death Valley: Ship your carfrom El Centro to Indio. Take your kayakand hitchhike up to the south tip of Saltonsea. Paddle up to the north end of the sea.Hike up to Indio. Drive from there via Cot-tonwood springs, Pinto basin, TwentyninePalms, Warren 's well , Old Woman spr ings ,Box S ranch, Victorville, Randsburg, Inyo-Kern, Brown, Mountain springs (visit Shultzwho came to California via Cape Horn).Go on to Darwin, after you visit the 5,000pictographs in Box canyon. Take the oldEichbaum toll road (if you can). Turn off inthe direction of Skidoo and go through Wild-rose canyon to Indian ranch and the Ghosttown of Ballarat, and on toward Granite

wells .And now for the unusualto enter DeathValley via Wingate pass. Drive or push yourcar up the steep pitch where the old Twentymule team borax trains used to follow theold Monorail trestle. Try to average 10 milesan hour for several hours, and you will reallyreach Death Valley, and not far from BadWater find a sign, Natural Bridge.Wingate pass is a road of memories. Theold Twenty mule team borax trains used toply that way from Death Valley to Mojaveand the railroad. In 1937, in a low Chrysler8 sedan I drove out of Death Valley overWingate pass. Scraped bottom a thousandtimes in four hours. All tenderfeet avoid thisroad. If at any time your car gets discouraged,just leave it and send for one of Ben Hulse'sCaterpillars. You'll make it easily from thereon .To anyone who does not enjoy Death Val-ley I will pay $100 to find me a more beau-tiful place.HARRY L. ALESON.

HardRock Shortyof . . .DeathVal leyBy LON GARRISON

"Someway," philosophized HardRock Shorty, "it's the onexpectedthat gits you. Things you is used todon't bother you usually no more'nyour wife does. But when changescomes, trouble begins. Like WallyWilson's chickens over here byWild Rose."Hard Rock stuffed his batteredcorncob with tobacco, borrowed amatch, and went on with his story."Wally an' his Missus was livin'over there by Deep Spring, an' Mrs.Wally got tired o' the lonesomenesswhen Wally was out workin' on hisclaim. So she went out an' got her-self a dozen chickens to keep hercompany as well as lay a egg ortwoshe hoped. The chickens didfine. Only she hadn't figgered onthe wind. There at Deep Spring itblows about 30 mile a hour fromthe east, an' has b io wed that wayever' day n' night for 40 years."First off, it like to blowed themchickens away 'til the old lady gotem anchored down to rocks an' thelike. An' then after a week or twothey sort o' got used to it, an' gotinto the habit o' leanin' into thewind as they walked around theyard. It wasn't long 'til they all de-veloped a sort of permanent tilt tothe east just walked that waynatural."In fact, them chickens got soused to leanin' on the wind, thatone day when the wind stopped

right dead all of a sudden, they alltoppled over. She never could get'em back up again 'til the windstarted blowin' once more."


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D E S E R T

A U G U S T ,193928 - M Western divis ion of AmericanMining congress meets at SaltLake City.31 to Sept. 4 Nevada state fair androdeo at Fallon.

SEPTEMBER, 19392 Corn dance at Acoma, New Mexico.2-4 Dig-N-Dogie Days fiesta at King-man, Arizona.2-4 Fiesta at Santa Fe, NewMexico.Col . T. B.Catron, chairman.2-4 Annual rodeo at Winnemucca ,Ne-vada.3-4 SanPedro valley rodeo at Benson,Arizona.3-4 New Mexico State Game ProtectiveAss'n., meets at Carlsbad.4 Labor Day s tampede at DuchesneUtah .7-9 Beaver county fair, Milford, Utah.E. S. Holmes, manager .8-9 Peach Day at Brigham, Utah. W.L. Hois t , manager .12 Corn dance at Santa Clara pueblo,New Mex ico .14-16 Annual rodeo at Vernal , Utah.Ralph Watson, secretary.15-16 Mexican Independence Day fiestaat Phoenix.15-17 New Mexico federation of labormeets at Carlsbad.15-17 Northern Arizona livestock showand county fair at Holbrook, Ari-zona.16 Deer hunting season opens in Im-perial and San Diego counties ,California.16-17 Mexican Independence day fiestaat Agua Prie taacross the borderfrom Douglas , Arizona.19 St. Joseph 's Day fiesta at Lagunapueblo, NewMexico.20-23 Bi-State fair at Clovis , New Mex-ico. A. W. Anderson, manager .22-24 Antelope Valley fair, Lancaster,California. TomFoley, chairman.23 to Oct. 7 Second annual photo-graphic exhibit at Museum ofNorthern Arizona, Flagstaff.24 ;:oOct. 1 New Mexico State fair atAlbuquerque . L. N. Harms, secre-tary.28-30 Cochise county fair, Douglas,Arizona.29 Sundown dance at Taos pueblo,New Mex ico .30 Fiesta deSan Geronimo at Taos andother pueblos in New Mex ico .30 Central New Mexico Teachers ' As-sociation meets at Santa Fe.

V o l u m e 2 SEPTEM BER, 1939 N u m b e r 11C O V E RLETTERSF ICTIO NC A L E N D A RP H O T O G R A P H YPIONEERINGPRIZESH U M A N N A T U R EMINERALSPUZZLELEGENDM I N I N GC A M E R A A R TMYSTERYH O BBYV A G A B O N DP ERSO NALITYP L A C E N A M E SWEATH ERM I N I N GL A N D M A R KB O O K SN E W SC O M M E N TPOETRY

SPLIT MOUNTAIN CANYON, California. Photo-g r a p h byHulbert Burroughs , Los Angeles .Comment f rom Deser t Magazine readers . . .Ins ide coverHard Rock Shorty of Death Val leyBy LON GARRISO N Inside coverComing events in thedeser t count ry 1Prize winning picture inJuly 2Hard Rock Homesteaders

By NINA PAUL SHUMWAY 3A n n o u n c e m e n t of September photograph contes t 5"It 's Fun to be a R ange r"By ADRIAN HOWARD 6Rock That Makes You See DoubleBy JOHN HILTON 9Desert QuizA test of your knowl edge of theSout hwes t 12The Spi de r Woman and theHunter of EaglesAs told toHARRY C. JAMES 13Primitive Mill Yields Desert GoldBy RAYMOND F. LAW 15'Feel ' of theDesertPhot ography byW M . M.PENNINGTON . .17"Dinosaur Tracks" at Spli t MountainBy HULBERT BURROUGHS 18Purple GlassBy TRACY M.SCOTT 22T r a g e d y in the C a n y o n of DeathBy EVERETT RUESS 24B uckboa rd Days inBorateBy CORA L. KEAGLE 25Origin ofn a m e s in theSouthwest 28Summer t empe ra t ure s on thedeser t 29Briefs from the deser t region 29Prize contest for Sept ember 31Current reviews ofSouthwestern l i terature . . . 32Here and There on thedeser t 34Just Between You andM e b y theeditor . . . 36The Desert Kills, andother poems 37

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Publishing Company, 597State Street, El Centre California. Entered as second class matter October 11, 1937, atthe post office at El Centro, California, under the Act of March 3, 1879.Title registered No. 358865 in U. S. Patent Office, and contents copyrighted 1939 bythe Desert Publishing Company. Permission to reproduce contents must be secured fromthe editor in writing. Subscription rate $2.50 per year in U. S. A. or possessions. Singlecopy 25 cents.

RANDALL HENDERSON, Editor.TAZEWELL H. LAMB, Associate Editor.Manuscripts and photographs submitted must be accompanied by full return post-age. The Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility for damage or loss of manuscriptsor photographs although due care will be exercised for their safety. Subscribers shouldsend notice of change of address to the circulation department by the fifth of the monthpreceding issue.

S E P T E M B E R , 1939


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By ROBERT W. CLARKETucson, Arizona

Awarded second prize in the July contest of theDesert Magazine. Taken with a Rolleiflex camera,3,5, 1/50 second, at f8, 4:00 p. m. in July, 1939.First prize in the July photographic contest wasawarded to Frank Ordway, Claremont, California.His picture, "Yucca," was of such quality it is to beused later as a cover for the Desert Magazine.

In addition to the prize winners the judges in theJuly contest rated the following entries as havingunusual merit:"Sunset Clouds" by A. R. Leding, State College,New Mexico."Boulder Dam" by Edith Kolb Lehnert, Grand Can-yon, Arizona."Superstition Mountain" by Fred Hankins, Taft,California.

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Seven years ago Nina and Steve Shumway filedon a homestead high UD in the Santa Rosa moun-tains on the rim of the Southern California Desert.Nina held down the claim while Steve worked inhis date garden in the Coachella valley to grub-stake the project. And now their home is completedand Uncle Sam has given them a deed to the pro-perty. Here is Mrs. Shumway's story of their ex-periencea story that will be a revelation to thoseAmericans who thought the pioneering days in thewest were over.

4jatd RockHornel teadeti

By NINA PAUL SHUMWAY

r HE pioneers of the midwestern prairies plowed outpatents to their government homesteads with ox teams.The settlers of the Northwest hewed theirs out withaxes. We blasted out our title to 640 acres on the side ofAsbestos mountain in Southern California's Santa Rosa rangewith dynamite.W e filed on our claim 4300 feet up on the mountainsideoverlooking the Colorado desert in 1932. From that timeuntil October, 1937, when we finally had complied withUncle Sam's requirements for a stock-raising homestead weused enough dynamite to operate a huge quarry. We movedliterally tons upon tons of granite.It was our own idea. We wanted that kind of a home-stead. We loved the granite tors and terraces of Asbestosmountain and we purposely selected one of the most pre-

cipitous slopes as the site for our cabin. The beauty of thisspot would be ample compensation for the toil that wasnecessary.During the five years we spent in creating our mountainhome our symphony was the music of hammer on drill steelwith the inevitable crescendo of an echoing blastfollowedby the steady staccato of pickpoints on stone. What wouldhave taken five minutes with a shovel in ordinary soil, re-quired two hours of drilling, a charge of dynamite, and along session with a pick, before we were ready even to be-gin to shovel.From the time we began to build our three miles of roadto connect with the Palms-to-Pines highway until our wallswere erected, we blasted our way. And I mean we, for 118pounds of woman with a five-foot crowbar, enough enthusi-asm, and a proper leverage can "wrestle ' boulders right alongwith the men.Clearing the building site, developing a spring in Grape-vine creek and piping the water three quarters of a mile to

S E P T E M B E R , 1939

Nina and Steve Shumway

the house, sinking postholes for fences, in fact every im-provement went ahead to the accompaniment of violent ex-plosions and mighty showers of dust and splintered granite.We built "The Tors" in a wilderness a wilderness thathowls at times when the fogs from the Pacific roll in overthe ridge and the wind comes raging across the flat as if itwere trying to tear the mountain in fragments and hurl theminto the great warm bowl of the desert thousands of feetbelow. Yet in spite of all our blasting and building the wilder-ness still predominates. But it is a bright, beautiful wilder-nessnot a waste.Pinon pines, juniper, scrub oak, buckthorn, mountain ma-hoganyall the hardy members of the Southwest's dwarfforest, as well as many small shrubs and bushes, march inverdant armies up the rugged slopes whose turrets and bas-tions are brilliantly etched with lichens; or troop down intothe ravines where several kinds of rich forage grass followthe stream beds, sustained by moisture stored in the gravelfrom the winter's run-off or torrential summer thunderstorms.So plentiful is herbage that for many years, at certain sea-sons, cattlemen on the other side of the mountain have runstock through this area.In spring the graveled benches are carpeted with flowers.The rocky steeps burst into bloom. Paintbrush, encelias, pent-stemon, mallow, all the cactus and yucca tribes display glorious


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exhibits of color. The dry fern nestlingat the base of great boulders and ledgesunfolds its grey curled tendrils in daintygreen fronds. All the small citizens ofThe Tors take part in this general jubi-lee. Chipmunks frisk up and down thebarbed cholla cactus as lightly as sun-beams. Chuckling quail pair off to mateand raise their broods. Amidst the blithechatter of other birds comes the exquisitefluting of the little grey-throated canyonwren whose clear cadenza starts at thevery peak of joy and falls in a ripple ofbliss down the scale, sweetening thesilence.In contrast to all this vivacity, therubber snake drags his glazed curves outinto the sun. If you get rough with himhe rolls his rather blunt body tightlyaround his tiny head. One of these help-less reptiles found a way into the housethrough a crack in the giant boulder that

forms the north wall of our fern room,and made use of it all summer, some-times lying for days inert among thegreenery. Though he never seemed ac-tually to enjoy my picking him up andstroking his slick, rubbery body, he soonlearned it wasn't necessary to get allballed up about it.Handsome Mr. Diamondback, too,crawls forth on the first hot day. But tono warm welcome, poor fellow. Hedoesn't want to bite folks any more thanthey want to bite him, if they'd only be-lieve it. In fear he gets ready to fight,buzzing his intention fairly. Though Iusually kill five or six rattlers, either theblack mountain variety or light coloreddesert type, each season, the assault ismade with compunction, especially if,

contrary to my victim's code, I strikewithout warning.Much more objectionable than thisrattling sportsman are the night-prowl-ing rodents that mow down every wa-tered plant; the scorpions, the bellowsbugs, the ants, that invade with slydevil-try your most intimate person; thecraw-ly centipedes, an eight-inch specimen ofwhich drowned himself in the waterbucket and lay unseen at the bottom un-til after I had drunk coffee made fromthat centipede solution. But a home-steader can't be persnickety.

Unwelcome Visitor in the KitchenIt is seldom that weglimpse other na-tives of The Torscoyotes, bobcats,foxes, badgers. Deer sometimes wanderinto the ravine below the cabin. An au-dacious civet cat once squeezed into thekitchen when the screen door had been

left ajar, but by diplomatic maneuver-ing he was induced to leave in a goodhumor. For the most part, the presenceof our shy neighbors is evidenced onlyby tracks.While building the road we lived ina tent-topped dugout. In this frail shel-ter I weathered a three-day blizzard withRufus the cat for company. Only oncesince thenthe winter of '36 when thewhole state of California turned arctichave we had a real blanket of snow onthis side of the mountain. Three yearsago an exceptionally cold night brokemost of the 3000 feet of water pipe thatbrings our water from the spring. Butusually the days are comfortably warmand sunny, just a bit crisp around theedges. And I have seen nasturtiums

bloom in the porchbox from one springto the next.As soon as we could haul lumber, theoriginal homestead cabin, like a largeboxcar with screened openings and can-vas flaps for windows, was built in aniche blasted out of a rocky comb besidea giant boulder, on the edge of one ofthe Jovian stairsteps overlooking the des-ert.

Later, after more granite was leveledwith dynamite, pick and crowbar, thislittle cabin became the kitchen, and anadobe addition was built, extending 11feet over the edge of the shelf. It took2000 cubic feet of earth hauled in witha wheelbarrow to fill in the floor. Theeast wall of the 22 by 24 living room vir-tually is a retaining wall of concrete andsteel with four big windows taking upnearly all the space above ground level.The effect is that of perching on a

high crag and looking out over desertand crumpled mountain ranges whichchange in color and contour with theshifting of light andshadow. I recall onlyone person who has failed to respond tothat sublime panorama with some ex-pression of wonder or delight. Thiswoman could see in The Tors only agood place for a murder." Even ourhuge fireplace left her cold.I believe the fireplace of the heatalatortype with a box four feet wide andnear-ly three feet high, is practically cool-proof. It is built of smooth slabs of avery hard stone we found in the easternend of the Eagle mountains and hauledthe hundred miles to the homestead afew at a time in our pick-up. Thecolor-ing shades through every tone from to-

Perched far up on theside ofAsbestos mountain,it was necessary to blastout solid granite to pro-vide a site bigenough forthe Shumway cabin.

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Stable and corrals on the flat border-

W hen we left, their woeful

We have not yet decided what to go

Talking to the many strangers who

When the new lands watered by the Ail-American canal are open to entry, wemay expect to see a modern revival ofarly Western drama. There will beragedy, too. For civilization has softenedus; and many will be called, but fewchosen.

Your true homesteader is born, not

The natural landscape at T he Torsprovides decorations for the Sh um-way cabin. This vase was made byNina Shmnway from the floiverstalk of a nolina. The "blossoms"are the dried flowers and seed podsfrom nolina, yucca and agave.

made. His is a stern and rugged art, re-quiring the creative ingenuity of a SwissFamily Robinson, the patience of Job,the energy of a piledriver, and the self-sufficiency of a free spirit. The belief thata homesteader could move on a sectionof the government's free land and there-by acquire moderate wealth without capi-tal investment is recognized now as puremyth. Uncle Sam's old game of bettinghis land against your vital economy thatyou won't last till you prove up, is moreof a cinch than ever unless you can beatit with financial independence.Our formula was team work. I helddown the homestead while Steve helddown a job and commuted. This methodwears the wage-earner to a thin edge anddemands that the resident member beprepared to enjoy large doses of solitude,forget feminine frailties, if any, and con-quer unaided everything from a loosescrew to an earthquake. But by perse-verance and the grace of God, it will prya patent out of the Government LandOffice.From a purely financial standpoint TheTors, which has cost us over $3000 ex-clusive of our own labor, living and carexpenses, could hardly be considered agilt-edge investment. But we didn't ex-pect it to balance the budget. What ithad to give was a new and interesting ex-perience, a close contact with the kind of

country we like, sanctuary from desertsummer, and beauty with a home in theheart of it. From that angle our hard rockhomestead is already paying big divi-dends.

/-'the! to -fimateut /-'notoqta.pketlEach month the Desert Magazine offers two cashprizes for the best camera pictures submitted by ama-teur photographers. The first award is $5.00 and thesecond $3-00.Pictures are limited to desert subjects, but there isno restriction as to the residence of the photographer.Entries may include Indian pictures, rock formations,flow ers and w ild an imals, canyons, trees, water holesIn fact anything that belongs to the desert country.In entering pictures in this contest amateur pho-tographers should give attention to lighting, contrastand composition. The day is past when ordinary snap-shots will qualify as good photography. The judges forthe Desert Magazine always consider the quality of thepicture as it will appear when reproduced in the maga-zine. This means that black and white contrast is im-portant. Grey pictures may win salon prizes, but theydo not make good halftone engravings for magazine re-production.

Following are the rules governing the photo-graphic contest:1Pictures submitted in the September contestmust be received at the Desert Magazine office by Sep-tember 20.2Not more than four prints may be submitted byone person in one month.3Winners will be required to furnish either goodglossy enlargements or the original negatives if re-quested.4Prints must be in black and white, 2Vix3Vi orlarger, and must be on glossy paper.5Pictures will be returned only when postage isenclosed.For non-prize-winning pictures accepted for pub-lication $1.00 will be paid for each print.Winners of the September contest will be an-nounced and the pictures published in the Novembernumber of the magazine. Address all entries to:Contest Editor. Desert Magazine, El Centro, Calif.

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Group of rangers at Petrified Forest. Top row: Reg W. Brown, whose experiences are related in this story, Park NaturalistStagner, Ranger Benson, Chief Clerk Singerman. Bottom row:Rangers McNeil, Cowan, Hookway, Johnston, Supt. Smith,Rangers Newbury andColeman . Clerk Nelson is bareheaded.

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their sight seeing way, wondering howthe ranger knew so much."How did you know they stopped?" Iasked when they were gone."A car comes in sight at the top of thehill, then drops down behind those for-mations. If it isn't around the curve ina minute or two it has stopped. When itstops it's near that big no parking sign.And when they stop it is for just onething-to pick up petrified wood."

There is a glamour about the role ofpark ranger that is intriguing to thosewho visit the national parks, and I tookthe opportunity to find out more abouttheir duties, their background and theirattitude toward the never-ending paradeof visitors who come within their juris-diction. Reg Brown is typical. You ng,clean cut six-footer from somewheresouth of the Mason-Dixon line, he hasthat soft voiced courtesy we associatewith the southern people. And the atti-tude so essential in dealing with all sortsand types of people.

"How do you like being a ranger?""It's fun. I can't think of any line ofoutdoor work more interesting or whole-some. The hours are sometimes long inparks or monuments where protection isan important duty. But the pay is good,our fellow rangers are nearly always finecompanions, and we do meet a lot of finepeople among the thousands who passthrough our gates every month."Jusi: then a car topped the distant hilland remained too long out of sight. Intothe government pickup we piled anddrove around the curve. Parked againstthe big sign was a New York Packardwith the driver emulating a graven im-age. And down on hands and knees wereMr. and Mrs. diligently endeavoring tosnake gleaming fragments of prohibitedwood from und er the wire fence. Forfishing purposes they used papa's goldheaded crook handled cane. "Get thatone, Papa. Get the red and black one!"Veil, I'm getting the best I can, ain't I?Vhat you thing I'm doing?""Hiving a good time?" The ranger'sinquiry brought papa up with such astart he almost left an ear dangling onthe barbed wire. "Ve il, Am I embar-barrased? Am I embarrassed?" he sput-tered."Embarrassed because you are stealingfrom the government or embarrassed be-cause you are caught stealing?" RangerBrown asked grimly."This is a public road. We can takewhat we want from it," bristled Mama."Madam, this road is built by the gov-

ernment through one of its most beau-tiful and valuable possessions. It is builtso that you and thousands of other trav-elers can visit and enjoy the PetrifiedForest with its magnificent stone logs, its

thousand-year-old Indian picture writing,its ancient Indian dwellings. You are anhonored guest and as such you are notsupposed to steal the belongings of thegovernment any more than you'd pocketthe silver in one of your friend's homesback in New York." Ranger Brown pa-tiently led the elderly culprits to thewarning sign and listened while theyread it aloud to him. Then they weresent on their way. "A m I embarrassed!"a faint echo came back on the breeze.

There are a dozen park rangers sta-tioned in this 90,000-acre reserve. Theyare there to protect the petrified wood,to give information about roads and othernational parks, and to answer questionsabout the scientific and prehistoric fea-tures of the stone forest. Thousands ofacres are covered with the semi-preciouspetrified wood which is almost two hun-dred million years old. There are nowords to give an adequate picture of thebeauty of the colored wood. It glows withmyriad colors, and crystals gleam hereand there among the scattered fragments.Of course it is a temptation to every tour-ist. And rangers are there to see that they"yield not to temptation," else 200,000visitors each year would soon depleteeven the seemingly inexhaustible supply.Literally tons of bright colored stonewood are taken from tourists everymonth. It is quite an art for a ranger toconfiscate this forbidden wood and doso without offending Uncle Sam's in-vited guests."In this game," said Ranger Brown,"we meet some of the finest, most con-siderate people in the world; culturedtravelers interested in what they are see-ing and anxious to learn more about it.They appreciate beauty and respect the

"Mrs. Tok-ho-no, does your hus-band make sunburn cream?

law. They are the backbone of ourAmerican civilization. And then we meetpeople who are out to cover their 500miles each day and send post cards totheir friends each night boasting of thedistance covered and the souvenirs col-lected en route. They watch for a chanceto filch a few pieces of wood and thenlie angrily about it when questioned.They bluster and threaten and enumeratetheir high up political friends who willtake great pleasure in 'getting your jobfor this.' Usually they wilt down andsurrender their booty when remindedthey'll need those high up politicians toget them out of a federal judge'sclutches!

"Many times each year mysterious ex-press packages and parcel post deliveriesreturn wood carried away by covetousvisitors whose better natures come to thetop when they are away from the luringwood. In a case in the Museum at Head-quarters is a letter read with much inter-est by visitors:

"M . E. Mission, Buduan, IndiaApril 2, 1935T o : The Officer in ChargePetrified Forest National MonumentNear Holbrook, Arizona, U. S. A.Dear Sir:About three years ago I was indirectlyresponsible for the removal of a smallpiece of petrified wood from the NationalPetrified Forest Reserve, and it has beenin my possession since that time.You may smile at me and think me abit foolishbut I have always been alaw abiding citizen and it has troubled

me to have something in my possessionthat is not mine. And, so, I am return-ing it to you under separate cover, andhope it will reach you safely.Yours truly,J - - - - c - - - - ""For real interest in everything theysee, and absolute courtesy and observa-tion of rules I believe the Japanese andChinese people who come through theForest top the list. Our own Americanpeople have the poorest manners and aremost destructive. Mary Emptyhead fromCornfield just must leave her initialsalongside a priceless Indian petroglyph,and Hiram Grabit of Minersville thinksnothing of breaking a beautiful petrifiedlog with his mechanic's hammer in orderto get a souvenir from the exact center ofthe ageless tree."The park service is seeking to restoresome of the native wildlife to the parkreserve and practically everybody reactsthe same when a herd of graceful ante-lope stroll calmly across the road or stopto drink at their own private reservoir.A dozen cars will be parked indefinitelyto watch the shy animals. Our quarrel-some old buck antelope tries daily topick a fight with the Stars and Stripesfloating over my station. He stands about50 yards away and glares at it intentlyfor a few minutes. When a breeze ripplesthe drooping folds he tosses his head

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


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and stamps the ground, but when a stiffwind whips the flag into full flown maj-esty then Old Pinto goes into action. He.stamps and rears on his hind legs. Hesnorts andpaws the earth, and he lowershis head in challenge. This game nevergrows tame with himnor to the touristswho are lucky enough to see Old Glorybantered."W e men, assigned by Uncle Sam tocare for his possession, have varied dutieshere in the stone forest. We must lookout for the welfare of all the animals,large andsmall, andalso the little creep-ing creatures that make the forest theirhome. It fell to my pal, Ranger Bensonto serve as iceman to the antelope lastwinter. Each morning 18 or 20 of themwould gather around their reservoir andstamp impatiently on the thick ice.Whenthey saw the ranger's pickup they'd re-treat to the top of the embankment andwait expectantly for him to smash theice with an ax. No sooner would he beback in the car when they'd race likegreedy children and drink until theycouldn't hold another drop. Next morn-ing they'd be there again waiting fortheir ranger."Now it's usually my luck to be guar-dian to the assorted snakes in this terri-tory. A week ago I rescued a big bullsnake from some tourists bent on its de-struction. Snakes areprotected here, evenrattlesnakes unless they are near roadsor trails. A foolish tourist lassoed a side-winder and was taking it around the for-est with him. I speedily killed it whenhe came to this station."Speaking of snakes, have you noticedour pet over there?" The ranger pointedto a stone ledge where a 5V2-foot yellowand black bullsnake appeared to be doz-ing in the shade."Just one of our pets. We call himPoncho. He is almost a daily visitor atsome seasons of the year."The ranger went on to tell about theporcupines in the forest. They whet theirteeth on agate trees and then eat the

small green shrubs. But they are notpunished. Coyotes andbobcats raise theirassorted families wherever it suits them,and even if the mother coyote does holdchoir practice and teach her younguns toyodel under the rangers' windows thereis no comeback. Rabbits and squirrelsand prairie dogs live out their allottedtime without fear in the forest."There is a tradition here that any-body mistreating an animal always getsthe worst of it," Reg told me solemnly."A CCC boy wasposted at Agate bridge

to guide the tourists around there. Hesaw a ground squirrel stealing his lunchand he chased it across the Agate bridge.He threw a rock at it and lost his bal-ance. The stone log forming the bridge

This is thepetrified logbridge where the CCC boymentioned in the story felland broke his leg. U. S. Park Service photograph.spans a 50-foot canyon and it is 25 feetto the rocky bottom. The lad fell and hisleg wasbroken. He lay there helpless foran hour before a tourist car came. Wouldthey hurry to headquarters and have hiscaptain send the ambulance, he begged.Yes, they'd beglad to do that but wouldhe mind if they took his picture first?They propped him up against a rockand first mother and then the old manposed beside him. Some tourists are thatwaybut fortunately they are the ex-ception rather than the rule."Among the hundreds of people visit-ing thePetrified Forest each day it is easyto spot the ones who have saved andscrimped and planned the trip for per-haps years. And every ranger loves tohelp make the visit of such people some-thing to remember with pleasure. An oldcouple in a Model T Ford drove in lateone evening. Now, the gates into themain part of the forest areclosed at darkand left locked until sunrise the nextmorning. This was necessary in order toprotect the wood from commercial woodthieves who were prone to haul out truckloads before measures were taken to stopthem. I told these visitors from Arkansasthat they had time to drive through theforest before closing time, but little timeto stop and see things. The woman wasone of those good oldmountaineers withno intention of being stampeded.'Pa, I ain't a-goin' to be rushedthrough here. For 40 years I been a-hear-in about this wood that is colored rock,and I'm goin' to see if it's the truth ornot!'"They camped at headquarters andthree days later after Ma had examinedand hefted' every piece of wood shewanted to, they chugged out again."

" 'Son, you done told the truth aboutthis place. When I git back to ArkansasI aim to send you a poke of dried applesand some shag-bark hickory nuts.'"A sense of humor," Brown contin-ued, "is what keeps a ranger sane dayin and day out."Just then a ritzy foreign-made carrolled up before the ranger station wherewe were talking. In the rear seat twopompous occupants looked straight aheadat nothing.

Brown started to speak to the uni-formed chauffeurbut he was also look-ing straight aheadhaughtier even thanhis em ployers.It was a little disconcerting to theranger, but he hesitated only an instantand started to address the human iciclesin the back seat."Speak to the chauffeur, my goodman!"I suspect the ranger wanted to laughbut he replied solemnly, "I thinkmaybe you'd better let me speak to you."And then he thrust one of the parkmaps through the door and gave themthe customary line of patter: "Please putthis National Park seal on the lowerright hand corner of your windshieldand keep it there as long as you are inthe forest. This map will show you allthe roads and important places to stop.You know, of course, that you are notpermitted to take any wood away withyou."And then they went on their haughty

waywithout a flicker of acknowledg-ment.The ranger turned to me and grinned,"Yes sir, it's fun being a national parkranger!"8 The DESERT MAGAZINE


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This photograph show s the double refractory quality oj a Calcite rhomb.

JQock "That Makes Ifou. See troubleHaving a hardness of only three, calcite crystals do not qualify as gemstones, but they make attractive specimens for a collector, and when found inclear pure form they hav e a useful plac e in the scientific laboratories. JohnHilton believes there is a great field in the desert Southwest for calcite collectors. Here are some suggestions as to where to look for the crystals, and whatto do with them if you find them.

I J / E were standing in a strangey\/ roomone of those mysteriouslaboratories in which high ten-sion wires are strung about in alarmingproximity and the air vibrates with thewhir of giant X-ray tubes.I had gone there as a youngster in myteens to deliver some calcite crystals, andDr. Jesse W. M. DuMond was telling methe important part calcite plays in a scien-tific laboratory.It is a highly technical subject, but Dr.DuMond of the California Institute ofTechnology reduced the story to termsany layman could understand."You see," he explained, "X-ray hasvarying wave lengths just as does ordi-nary light. But unlike the latter, theycannot be separated into their spectrumby an ordinary glass prism. Optical cal-S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 3 9

By JOHN W. HILTONcite is used instead. Other crystals havebeen tried but nothing quite equals Ice-land spar as a reflector in this type ofinstrument."When the beam from an X-ray tubeis introduced through this slit in the ap-paratus it strikes the crystal at a criticalangle. Some of the rays penetrate only ashort distance before they are reflectedback out of the crystal, but varying wavelengths penetrate to different depths andare therefore reflected back at differentpoints in the crystal. These separatedbeams of the X-ray are caught on thisflouresce nt screen or a p hotographic plateand we are able to get an accurate pic-ture of the varying intensity of the differ-ent wave lengths produced by a givenpiece of equipment."One might well ask what all this has

to do with the desert. The answer is thatour arid Southwest is one of the mostpromising potential sources of Icelandspar. Although no large scale miningoperations have yet been undertaken inthis region for the recovery of opticalcalcite, hundreds of dollars worth of thiscrystal substance has been dug from sur-face pockets in the desert area in thepast 10 years.Optical calcite or Iceland spar was sonamed for its first commercial discoveryin Iceland. It was mined there for manyyears but in recent times the quarriesand open pits have been mostly workedout and abandoned. Much of the materialnow on the market comes from othersources.Chemically, this interesting mineral isnothing more than a very pure form of


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limestone or calcium carbonate. It has ahardness of three in the standard scale.Belonging to the rhombic division of thehexagonal system of crystallization, it hasbeen found in literally hundreds of differ-ent crystal variations, all belonging tothis one general system. Its cleavage re-mains the same regardless of the vari-ation in its surface angles. When thismineral is struck a sharp blow it separatesalong definite planes that meet at exactangles to form a perfect rhombohedron.These angles of cleavage in calcite re-main the same mathematically whetherthe specimen be found in Iceland orSouth Africa.

One of the most interesting propertiesof calcite is its double refraction. PerhapsI should explain the term "double re-fraction."A pencil placed in a glass of waterhas the appearance of bending in a defi-nite angle at the water line. This is visi-ble evidence of the refractory power po-sessed by water. It has been found thatlight rays passing from air into anydens-er transparent substance are refracted or"bent" to a greater or less degree. Thisangle of difference is called the angle ofrefraction. A peculiarity of the mineralworld is that light passing through min-erals, except those belonging to thecubicsystem, is refracted at twoseparate angles.This property is known as double refrac-tion.

In most cases the angle between thesetwo rays is so slight as to be unnoticedby the naked eye. But in the case of Ice-land spar it is so pronounced that whena crystal of this mineral is placed oversmall print or lines two distinct imagesare produced. It is a case in which you"see double."The mathematics, optics and physicsinvolved in this process of light splittingwould fill an entire issue of the DesertMagazine were I scientist enough towrite it. Suffice to say that calcite isdoubly refractive to a very high degree,and because of this property and othersits clear, optically perfect crystals areboth interesting and valuable to science.One instrument especially interestingto gem collectors is the dichroscope.Equipped with a prism of -ralcite thisapparatus discloses two images of the

gem. If the stone under inspection isdichroic, the two images will be ofslightly different colors, representing twotints that are blended in the normal col-oring of the gem. If the stone is mono-chroic and belongs to the cubic systemboth images will remain the same coloras the 'scope is revolved.Advanced mineral collectors and stu-dents of mineralogy use polarizing mi-croscopes in the determination of un-known mineral specimens. The polariz-

ing device in such instruments consists oftwo Nicoll prisms made of two calcitecrystals cut at the proper angle and ce-mented together.The occurrence of calcite in the desertin most cases is essentially the same as inIceland that is, as fillings or partialfillings in cavities in volcanic rock. Thereare twogeneral theories as to how these

crystals were formed. According to oneexplanation the calcite was an originalcomponent of the molten magma andcrystallized out as the lava cooled. Theother theory, and to me the more plausi-ble one, is that the calcite entered emptygas pockets in solution of hot volcanicwater after the lava had partially orwholly cooled.In some deposits the calcite fills theentire cavity of the lava bubble, while inother instances the nodules of calcitehave a surface that resembles an agategeode. When such a specimen is held to

the light, however, the greater trans-parency identifies it as a substance muchclearer that the purest agate.The finest calcite I have ever foundwas on the Mojave desert of Californiain the form of loose crystals inside ofgiant thin-walled geodes. In the Cadymountains of that region I have foundgeodes containing crystals of opticallygood Calcite weighing several poundseach. In most cases the walls of suchgeodes consisted of a thin layer of agate

View of Borrego badlands in Southern California where many fine calcite crystals have been found.

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Before that area became a popular

Most of the surface specimens in thatarea have now been removed but I amsure there are still many beautiful crys-tals in geodes concealed beneath the sur-faceto be exposed by cloudbursts atsome future time. The occurrences arenot plentiful enough, however, to justi-fy mining.In some of the volcanic areas on theMojave and Arizona deserts calcite oc-curs a;; linings in volcanic fissures and inpockets adjacent to these. Such deposits

may be worked at a profit if the grade ofcrystals is consistently good.Impurities Add to Beauty

Calcite also occurs as crystal groups inmetal veins but in such formation isseldom of optical quality for the reasonthat a slight trace of metal makes it un-fit for scientific use. For specimen pur-poses, however, some of the most beauti-ful calcite crystals in the world have beenfound in occurrence with metallic ore.A less common occurrence of Icelandspar is where limestone has recrystallizedis a secondary mineral in alluvial de-posits. One region where such depositsire found is in the Borrego badlands ofSouthern California. In this rugged high-ly-eroded area of ancient sandstone, some3f which contains fossils of prehistoricmastodons, camels and horses, are longfissures evidently caused by the upthrustof the Santa Rosa mou ntains. These fis-sures undoubtedly extend to a very greatdepth, and hot water has entered withlimestone in solution, to be recrystallized

in lens-shaped cavities near the surface.Some of these lenses have yielded finecalcite of an optical grade, and have pro-duced mineral specimens rivaling thoseof the world's most famous localities.Although crystals have been mined from:his region for several years no largescale workings have been undertaken. Itis possible that this and other areas inthe Southwest desert may some time fur-nish the optical calcite for this country,especially in the event that war shouldcut off the foreign supply.Optical companies and buyers of cal-cite today purchase the bulk of their ma-terial from other countries, and some ofthem resort to practices which tend to

Calcite crystal of the dogtooth va riety.discourage production of calcite at home.Instances have been known where buy-ers requested that a 10 or 20-pound sam-ple be shipped at the producer's ex-penseand then made no effort to payfor it.

Prospectors or miners should sendsmall samples to their state mining bu-reau or to an accredited university. Suchinstitutions are always willing to reportas to the grade and possible market forsuch crystals.At the present time there are a numberof small concerns attempting to make alivelihood through buying and resellingthe lesser known minerals found byprospectors who have only a vague ideaas to their value. Some of the firms willoffer only a small fraction of the currentprice, or will write enticing letters men-tioning possible markets for 10-ton lotsand requesting large samples of the bestmaterial. Payment is seldom made forthese sampleswhich may have a veryhigh value.A reputable firm will request a rea-sonable sample, offering to pay for it atthe market price if it meets standard re-

quirementsotherwise it will be returnedat shipper's expense. Unfortunately, thistype of dealer is still the exception.The demand for optical calcite is lessthan in former years due to the inventionof a synthetic plastic having the facultyfor polarizing light in much the samemanner as the Nicoll prism of calcite.This substance, called polaroid, is re-placing calcite where Nicoll prisms areused. Since calcite is most commonlyfound in small crystals it follows thatthe market for this mineral has suffered.

Large perfect crystals of calcite suit-able for specialized scientific work, how-ever, still have a ready market andshould be sold direct to the institutionwhich uses them. Such laboratories gen-erally are working on a non-profit basisfor the good of mankind, and they de-serve to obtain their materials at as lowa cost as possible. Usually they will paya fair price for the crystals they selectand more often than not this figure willbe higher than the offer of the so-calledmineral broker.I know of no more interesting way tospend a week or month's vacation in theS E P T E M B E R , 1 9 3 9 11


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Sfud es i and(A Hopi Legend)

As told to HARRY C. JAMESIllustration by W. Mootzka, Hopi Artist

y"\ T Oraibi there once lived a familyf I consisting of a father, mother, two\ ' daughters and a son. The boy wasa most successful hun ter of eagles. Heseemed to know all there is to know aboutthat sacred bird. He brought home somany young eagles to raise for the cere-monies that his parents gladly excusedhim from work in the fields so that hecould gather food for the eagles and at-tend them properly. His sisters, however,often had to help their father in the fieldsand this made them angry toward theirbrother and his eagles.

One year the boy captured only twoyoung eagles. He spent many days search-ing their high nests among the cliffs, butfor some reason he found no more. Onemorning when he was out hunting foodfor the two eagles, his sisters were leftat home to look after the work of thehouse while their father and mother werein ths fields. The two girls became angryat the eagles, saying to them: "If it werenot tor you our brother would do hisshare and we would not have to work sohard!"They went on talking this way to theeagles, growing angrier and angrier atthe isirds. Finally, they grabbed somesticks, and beat the eagles. W hen they

had vented their anger they becamefrightened and left the house. Theylocked the door and hid the key in someashes in the outside fireplace. They wentdown and joined their parents in takingthe weeds out of the corn field. Theyworked so hard that their mother knewthey must have been in some trouble.Late in the afternoon the boy camehome with food for the eagles. He washot, tired and thirsty. He tried to openthe door. "Well," he said, "someone haslocked the door!""Yes," said the eagles, "your sisterlocked it but she buried the key in theashes of the outside fireplace."The young man got the key to the bigold wooden lock and let himself into thehouse. Then the eagles told him how hissisters had beaten them. They said: "Nowyou dress up the way we tell you and wewill go to join your family in the fields."Following the instruction of the eagles,the young man painted his legs yellowand tied some little bells and rattlesaround his legs and some eagle feathersin his hair. He painted his body withdifferent colors and put on his dance kiltand sash. Over his nose he painted ablack line.One of the eagles then said: "That is

Some oi the Hopi legends haveimportant bearing on the religiousbeliefs oi the Indians. Othersmerely are tales passed alongfrom generation to generation forthe entertainment of the childrenthe bedtime stories of Hopiland.The legend related by HarryJames this month is of the lattertype a story centering aroundthe strange Spider Woman whoplays so important a part in Hopimythology.

well done! I am going to carry you onmy back."The boy climbed on the eagle's backand the two eagles walked out the doorof the house. They started to run alongthe street, going faster and faster, flap-ping their long wings until they finallyflew into the air. They circled around thevillage and then swooped down over thecorn fields.As they flew, the eagle carrying theboy taught him a song. They circled fourtimes as the young man sang his song.His sisters down in the field heard him.The eagles swooped down close to themso that the father and mother could rec-ognize the boy. The parents pleaded withthe eagles to give them back their son,but the birds were angry because thegirls had beaten them, and flying strong-ly in great circles, they climbed higherand higher into the sky until they couldbe seen no more. After a time theyreached an opening in the sky which ledto the world where the eagles live andfrom where they come, because of theHopi prayers, to hatch their young forthe Hopi. Here the eagles flew up to thetop of a high cliff on which were somewhite houses in which the eagles lived.They left the boy on top of the cliff and

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


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said: "Here you will have to stay becauseyour sisters beat us."The boy was lonely andfrightened. Hefelt sure that hewould die. There wasnoshelter on the cliff. There was no food.As he stood there in misery, he saw a lit-tle wren hopping among the rocks. Hespoke to her but sheapparently paid noattention to him and soon flew away. Ina few minutes the wren came back, butagain she paid no attention to the boywhen he spoke to her. Sheseemed to bewatching for someone. In a little time ablack spider came walking up the cliff.H e had been called by the wren. Hewalked up to the boy and said: "Youpoor boy, to be so badly treated by thoseungrateful eagles after your kindness tothem! Nowstay hereI will try to helpyou."The spider went away for a few min-utes, then returned carrying two downyturkey feathers. "Use one of these tosleep on, and cover yourself with theother." Without saying another word, heleft the boy.When night came the boy did as hewas told. When he started to make hisbed with the two turkey feathers, to hissurprise they grew so large that theymade him a comfortable bed and he sleptsoundly all night.In the morning the wren came againand behaved just as shealways did, pay-in g no attention to the boy. Shewent tothe edge of thecliff and the boy followed

her. There she saw a crack in the rockleading straight down to the ground. Tothe boy's surprise the wren began pull-in g out her tiny feathers, wedging themjust a little space apart in the cliff,mak-ing a tiny series of steps. First shepulledou t the feathers from her wings, thenthose from her tail. She was still a longway from the bottom of the cliff and shebegan to pull out the smaller feathersfrom all over her body. By the time shereached the ground she had been forcedto pull out even the down around herthroat to complete the feather ladder.As soon as she had finished, sheclimb-ed up the soft steps. When she regainedthe top the boy hardly recognized her.She had not a feather left!She now told the boy to follow herdown the ladder. At first he was afraidthat the feather steps would not hold hisweight, but she reassured him and hestarted down. When they reached thebottom in safety, the wren told him towait for her. Shethen began to climb upagain, but this time as she climbed up,stair after stair, shepulled free her feath-

ers and stuck them back into her ownbody just where they had been.When she got to the top shewas againcompletely covered. Shestretched out her

tail andwings, fluffed her feathers acou-ple of times, then flew down to the boywaiting at the bottom of the cliff. Thenshe gave him directions that he was tofollow most carefully and disappeared.The boy did as he was bid and waswalking along, happy to be down fromthe great cliff, when suddenly he stop-ped, for from almost directly beneath hisfeet he heard a voice: "Step back a little,please, you are almost on top of myhouse!"It wasSpider Woman. When he hadstepped back, she continued: "Come in,my boy,come- in!"

The boy looked down at thetiny open-in g to Spider Woman's house and said:"But how can I get in? The opening isso small!"Spider Woman removed a few littlestones andsome sticks and the boy man-aged to squeeze in. As soon as he wasinside, he marvelled at the beauty andcomfort of Spider Woman's house. Thefloor and walls were all lined with softsilk. Everything was so small he won-dered how he would ever get enough toeat.S o o n afterward, however, Spider,Woman gave him something to eat andto his amazement when he put it in hismouth it so increased in size that he hadno difficulty in filling himself with goodfood.

Beware oi Bad ManThe boystayed many days with SpiderWoman. Learning that there was a cer-tain kind of bird she liked for food, hewent hunting and procured several ofthem for her. Spider Woman had be-come very fond of the boy and oftenwarned himnever to travel to the west,for in that direction lived a very badpersonAsohkata.For many days the boyobeyed her, butone dayhebecame curious anddecided togo that direction and to see for himselfjust how badthis wicked person was. Ashe went along, he kicked a little ballahead of him. When he had traveledwithout any trouble for a few miles hebegan kicking theball harder andharderso that it bounded a long distance infront of him. Finally, when he hadgivenit a particularly hard kick henoticed thatthe ball had disappeared. When he ranup he found it had gone down into akiva.As he stood there, a voice called out:"Come on in! No onewill hurt you."The voice sounded kind, so the boywent down the ladder into the kiva.When his eyes became accustomed to thegloom down there, he saw that he wasalone with a strange and terrible look-ing oldman! Telling himthat they weregoing to play a game together, the oldman tied theboy's hands together behindhis back and his two feet tightly to-

gether. He then carried him up the lad-der and placed him over the entrancewhere the smoke from the fire would al-most suffocate him. There he was left toperish.However, when theboy failed to returnat theusual time, Spider Woman guessedwhat hadhappened. Shecalled a councilof all the animals. Bears, mountain lions,

coyotes, wolves, foxes and all kinds ofanimals cameeven a little mole whomSpider Woman was particularly glad tosee. Somany animals came that thehousewas entirely filled.Spider Woman told them of the plightof the boy and begged them to assisther in freeing him. This they all agreedto do and they set off for the wicked oldman's house.When they arrived they found the boyalmost dead from the smoke and heat.The old man laughed and joked withthem as they came up.Said Spider Woman: "Wehave cometo rescue this good boy! What must wedo to make him free?""You must play with me the game ofthe cup," the old manreplied. "You cer-tainly will not win, but I will let youtry!""All right," said Spider Woman. "Wewill play."Spider Woman produced four littlecups andunder one of them sheplaced alittle ball of clay. Shemoved them rapid-ly around. As she did this, the mole hid

and quickly burrowed under thefloorandup close to the surface of the groundwhere the cups were. He carefully tookout the little ball of clay and hid itaway."Now," said all the animals, "guessif you canunder what cup theball of clayis!"The oldman guessed andwhen SpiderWoman lifted up the cup there was noball there. He guessed again andagainthere was no ball there. He was veryangry andguessed the fourth time and of

course there was noclay ball there either.His turn was up. The mole quicklyslipped theball back under the first cup,so when Spider Woman lifted the cupthere itwas.The old manmarvelled but said: "Be-fore you take the boy you must proveyourself again. Outside my house thereare many strong bushes with long, hardroots deep into the ground. You pullthose up andthen you may take the boy."Upon hearing this, the mole hurriedaway and tunnelled under some of the

bushes, chewing their biggest roots apart.When all the animals had assembledContinued onpage 31

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When the ore has been crushed. Mr. and M rs. Jack Thomas pan the "mud" from the bottom oj the arrastre jor gold.

Pr imitive M il l IJieldli Vesett (foldMining men will tell you thatgold ore assaying only $5.00to the ton is unprofitable ex-cept when milled in large ton-nage with most modern ma-chinery. An d yet here is thestory of an Arizona miner andhis wife who are making goodwages working low grade orewith an old-fashioned arrastre.It is not an easy job but theby-products of their little home-made mill are health and h a p -p inessand that is more thansome of America's $100,000business executives are gettingout of their jobs.

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

By RAYMOND F. LAWa rocky desert hillside under ablazing Arizona sun, a motor sal-vaged from an old truck sputtersand chugs into action. Above a shallowpit in the ground two stout woodencrossbeams begin to revolve. Drag gingfrom them on chains, huge bouldersgrind around and around in the pit, slow-ly pulverizing a batch of ore.At the edge of the pit stands JackThomas, veteran of mine and mill, watch-ing the process he uses to extract goldfrom the ore. He is deeply tanned andhard-muscled. His overalls are torn andhis damp shirt sticks to his back.Mrs. Thomas, clad in a faded house-dress, her white hair unprotected fromthe sun, takes a hand in the proceedings.

In her own words, she is "Just an oldminer at heart."As the ore is ground fine, Thomasturns water into the pit and the con-tents gradually become a mass of thinmud. An outlet on the downhill side ofthe pit is opened and the mass flowsover two amalgam plates and drains awaydown the slope.The grinding apparatus is stopped.Fine sand is dug from between the crev-ices of the flat rocks which floor the pit,where mercury has been placed. Themuddy sand is panned to recover themixture of gold and mercury. By theuse of a retort the mercury is passed offin vapor, leaving the gold.The amalgam plates also are cleaned

15


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and other gold particles ground from theore are recovered.The outfit rigged up by Thomas issimply an arrastre, a primitive drag-stonemill of the type used for centuries inMexico and South America. This one,however, is modernized by using a motorinstead of burros or manpower employedin earlier days to turn the wheels. It isone of the oldest of milling processes,but so efficient is it under the experttouch of Thomas that he claims a recov-ery of gold as high as 85 per cent fromquartz ore and dump tailings he hasworked.The story behind the little plant is aninteresting chapter in man's age-oldstruggle to wrest gold from the reluc-tant grasp of the earth. Mr. and Mrs.Thomas, like confirmed miners theworldover, are willing to risk their time, suchcapital as they can raise, andmany of theordinary comforts of life in the hope ofmaking a stake. They believe they are onthe way now, but it isn't easy, they willtell you.Thomas has had wide experience inmining andmilling in many parts of thesouthwest andMexico. Twoyears ago heand Mrs. Thomas were in theBaluda dis-trict of Sonora, where he wasengaged bya mining company to build a power ar-rastre to replace one which had beenturned laboriously by burros. He learneda lot about arrastres there, and decidedthat some day he would build one forhimself.

Arrastre is BuiltLabor troubles and other difficultiesmade it impossible for them to stay inMexico, so they moved to Arizona. Fora time in 1937 they operated a cyanideplant at the Mammon mine, 25 milessouth of Casa Grande. A year ago lastMarch they went to theJack White mine,17 miles north of Phoenix, where theybuilt their arrastre, the largest nowoper-ating in the state.While Thomas was erecting the plant,Mrs. Thomas set up housekeeping in the

front end of a tool house, commodiousenough but because of its corrugated ironroof andwalls a veritable oven when theArizona sun blazed down with 110-de-gree intensity."Not much like a swanky apartment,"she smiled, "but we get along all right."Perhaps her knack of making a com-fortable home for her family in the oddplaces of the world where gold is foundequals the accomplishment of her hus-band in figuring outways to get thegold.Despite conditions which city womenwould call primitive, the toolshed livingQuarters areclean andwell kept. Thedirtfloor is well swept. Dinner is cooking onthe old fashioned four-hole cookstove.Groceries andother supplies arearranged

on wooden shelves along one wall. Theplain pine table is scrubbed clean."How do you manage to keep househere in the summer when it is so hot?"she was asked."It's something like camping out,"she replied. "But we have a well-insu-lated refrigerator and three times a weekwe get 300pounds of icefrom Phoenix."That solves the problem of keepingfood from spoiling and provides cooldrinking water.Water for the house as well as for usein operating the arrastre is pumped upthe hill half a mile from a well on theflat below themill. It is stored in a tankfrom which it flows by gravity to placeswhere it is used.A bedroom is unnecessary in thescheme of desert living. Everyone sleepsunder the stars. Beds for the wholehousehold are ranged alongside the

building.Prefers Mining to HousekeepingMrs. Thomas declares her real interestis mining, not housekeeping. Otherwiseshe might be living in town while herhusband carries on his work out on therocky hillside. Mining men who knowher say she is the only woman cyanideoperator in the country. When they arecyaniding, shehelps clean the zinc boxesand does a man's work generally."I studied chemistry in high schoolyears ago," she explained, "and I'vebeen

interested in mining ever since Mr.Thomas and I began working all overthe southwest in mines and mills."Her vigor of speech and action belieher snowy hair. She converses easily andpleasantly of their experiences, in con-trast to her husband, who says she willdo the talking for the family. He alwayshas plenty to keep him busy around theplant.There's plenty of gold ore in the des-ert hills of the southwest, any prospectorwill assure you, but the problem is howto handle it profitably. The Thomasesbelieve they have found the answer intheir arrastre. Such a plant may be builtclose to themine, at a cost of about $100,exclusive of a motor to turn the mill.Many a small mine operator who couldnot afford to ship ore long distances toa mill will be able to do his own mill-ing, Thomas believes, by setting up anarrastre.There is nothing new in this processfor extracting gold. Every mining manseems to know of it, but few arrastreshave been used in this country. CharlesA. Diehl, Phoenix assayer and miningauthority, gives a clue to the reason. Hesays the arrastre, for all its apparent sim-plicity, is hard to operate successfully.He attributes Thomas' success to his wide

experience in milling ores and to his me-chanical ability in building the outfit.In particular, the bearings on the mainshaft often give trouble, owing to thegreat weight of the dragstones 500to 800 pounds of granite. Thomas seemsto have solved this problem successfully,preventing time-wasting shutdowns forrepairs.Th e pit in which the ore is crushed isten feet in diameter and two or threefeet deep.The cross beams, heavy timbers a footsquare, are mounted on a metal post,rising from the center of the pit. Theyare revolved by a shaft turned by a wheelconnected with the motor by a longleather belt. The motor burns fuel oilafter being started with gasoline, thuscutting operation costs.The arrastre handles from 300 to 400pounds of ore at one time, and has acapacity of 12 to 14 tons every 24hours,although it usually is operated only dur-ing the daylight hours.Thomas says ore as low in value as $5per ton can be milled with profit, al-though some of the quartz handled runsfrom $17.50 to $30.For a time he worked the tailings ofa dump on the property, but most ofthe ore comes from shallow prospectholes over a nearby hill, transported tothe arrastre on the backs of burros.

D ep en d s on Surface Ore"There's no use sinking much of ashaft to get the ore," Thomas says."You're taking too big a chance. It's bet-ter to use surface ore even though it isof a lower grade. It takes capital to doreal mining."The cleanup, or removal of the gold-bearing material from the plant, is madeafter 10 to 25 tons of ore have beenhandled, depending on the value of therock. Thesand andclay from thebottomof the pit are squeezed through a pieceof canvas or chamois skin, leaving an

amalgam of about twoparts mercury andone part gold. This is heated slowly iaan iron bottle or retort. The mercuryturns to vapor, passes off and is collectedin a condenser. A sponge of gold re-mains, which may be sold in that formor melted down into a small brick ofgold. Thomas is an assayer, and in bislittle shop in the mill building he com-pletes theprocess.The property at the Jack White mineis equipped for cyanide operations, whichare carried on from time to time. Forthis work the arrastre is converted intoan agitating tank by removing the largedrag-stones and replacing them withsmaller ones. These are revolved in thepi t to stir themass of ore and chemicals.16 The DESERT MAGAZINE


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on the.

NATIVE ART

Photograph byWM. M. PENNINGTON

By JOHN STEWART MacCLARY/ / yHERE and when did Zuni women first learnI A/ the art of weaving? In Coronado's time they' lacke d kno wled ge of dom esticated wool-bear-ing animals, and although they used a certaincmount of hand woven cotton cloth, this commodity

was procured by barter from the distant Hopi pueb-los.The Zuni weaver is not seated on the floor in themanner of the Navajo woman, although the woven

designs somewhat resemble certain common Nava-jo patterns. The loom is unlike those of the Navajo.This indoor weaving equipment resembles the loomsof the house-dwelling Hopi Indiansbut among thelatter tribe weaving is usually done by men.Perhaps the Zunilike the Navajo weaversrender credit for the craft to mythical Spider Woman!But it is known that the Spanish invaders broughtthe first domesticated wool-bearers into the lands ofboth tribes. , ,

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Dinosaur Tracksat Split M ou ntain

Many of the "tracks" have thedefinite and uniform shape shownabove. A few of them such as areshown here have received a depositof alkali carried down by rainwatersand stand forth in bold relief.Notethe section just b elow center that hasbeen chiseled out by a souvenirhunter. It is hoped for his sake andother vandals like him that they areNOT dinosaur tracks. For size com-parison note the b lack hat in the up-per right hand corner.In the sandstone floor of a little side canyon near Split mountain gorgethere are indentations that look to the untrained observer like the tracks ofsome prehistoric monster. For many years they were accepted as such untilthe scientific men came along and said it wasn't sothat this sandstone wasformed long after the age when giant reptiles roamed over the face of the

earth. The controversy still goes on, and you can choose your own sidebutregardless of what caused these strange dents in the rock, you'll find this agorgeous spot for a weekend excursion into the Southern California desertwhen cool weather comes .

v ~O U fellers been to the dinosaurtracks?"glanced quickly at the des-ert-lean face of the man filling our gastank."What dinosaur tracks?" I asked hope-fully hopefully because thus far ourweek-end on the Southern California des-ert had been a dismal failure. No tthrough any fault of Mother Nature, butonly because we had been fools enough18

By HULBERT BURROUGHSto get our car stuck in some of her ar-tistic handiwork on the edge of Saltonsea. After spending Friday afternoon andall day Saturday digging out, we finallylimped into a service station late in theafternoon, tired, thirsty, disappointed athaving ruined a vacation trip we hadbeen planning so long.So when we heard mention of "dino-saur tracks" we were interested."Why, sure," the attendant was say-

ing, "those tracks've been there close toa million years! right in the sand-stone plain as if the critters that made'em had walked over the rock yesterday!"Chuck Sheldon and I looked at eachother. Funny how quickly that tired feel-ing leaves you when excitement beginsto brew. Dinosaur tracks! This was get-ting closer to the adventure and mysterywe had hoped to find on the desert." . . . and you go south down high-

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ay 99 to the Julian and San Diego road,highway 78 that's just this side ofKane springs. Turn to your right, whichis west, an' keep going till you come toa little place called Ocotillo. It's on theleft hand side of the road. There's a drylake on the right which the army andnavy aviators use for bombing practice.Turn south at Ocotillo on a sand andgravel road. Continue south seven oreight miles toward the Vallecito moun-tains. Just before you come to an oldgypsum mine the road crosses a big drywash comin' diagonally down from theright. That wash is the trail to the dino-saur tracks. If it ain't rainin'an' there'sno prospects of ithead your car up thewash. You won't get stuckthe sand'shard. Pretty soon you'll be going throughSplit mountain canyon. As soon as youget past that narrow gorge keep youreyes peeled, because the tracks are up aside canyon to the left. Somebody painteda red arrow on a boulder so's peoplecould find it. Don't know if it's stillthere or not. You boys'll find it thoughcan't miss it."

I think our profuse thanks puzzled theold fellow, but we were really gratefuland excited over the prospects of seeingsome real dinosaur tracks.It was nearly 5:30 in the evening whenwe turned west on highway 78. And bythe time we reached Ocotillo the sun haddropped behind the western mountains.By rights, we should have startedlooking for a campsite. But the darken-ing shadows of the Vallecito range aheadof us were an invitation we couldn't re-sist.

"The moon'll be pretty close to fulltonight," I told Chuck, "and it'll be funto see if we can find the tracks at night."We had no difficulty recognizing thebig dry wash coming out of Split moun-tain canyon below the gypsum mine. Itwas nearly dark as we turned off the roadand headed up the dry hard sand of thestreambed. There was no wheel trackno visible sign that anyone had evertraversed the wash before, and we hadthe feeling that we were pioneering ahitherto unexplored territory!Dodging among huge boulders, glid-ing along over velvet smooth stretchesof sard, stopping to measure the clear-ance over a big rock it was not longAbove Entering the gorge of Splitmountain canyon. This is one of thescenic spots in the propo sed newAnza Desert State park.Below Most of the markings are ahodge-podge of shapeless small pitsin the surface of the exposed sand-stone. Chuck Sheldon who accom-panied the author of this article isexamining the formation.

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/ the center of thepicture is the small canyon in whichthe so-called dinosaur tracks are located.They appear in thebed of thecanyon on the light sandstone clearly visible here.The car faces up-stream in thedry wash which runs throughSplit mountain canyon. Geologically, most of thesedimen-tary strata of this region are of the Pliocene orMiocene eras.

Excellent examples of theso-called dinosaur tracks. Geol-ogists explain these interesting markings as the peculiar re-sult of Nature's erosive forces upon concretions imbed-ded in the sandstone. The small white object with darkercircles around it in the upper right hand corner of the pic-ture is definitely andwithout question a small concretion.before the dark entrance to Split moun-tain canyon loomed before us.Deep with-in the gloom of the sheer, jagged wallswe stopped to cook our dinner. Closebe-neath the cliffs the light of our fire quiv-ered and leaped among the spectralrocks about us.By the time we were ready to moveon in search of the dinosaur tracks, thelight of the moon was falling on theupper walls of the western cliffs. Thatride up the gorge of Split mountain isreally exciting at night. The half lumi-nous shadows of a moonlight night onthe desert are weirdly beautiful. If youlike to let your imagination wander it iseasy to slip back through eons and eonsto the time when prehistoric monstersonce roamed those hills. We fancied our-selves hunting not for cold, inanimatetracks of the long-dead dinosaur, but outto find the living monster himself!Andwhen we finally came out of the gorgeand found the small side canyon on theleft, wewere like a couple of schoolboyson a first camping trip.As we climbed out of the main washand headed up what we were confidentwas "dinosaur canyon," the moon wasshining full in our faces. Thehills aboutus were low and seemed well eroded.Straight ahead in the bed of the littlecanyon the moonlight reflected sharplyon a stratum of exposed sandstone.That must be the place!a flat bed ofsandstone the old fellow said!

I never was much of a runner soChuckwon the honor of being the "first livingman to track a dinosaur to its lair"atleast in our world of fancy.There was no doubt that these werethe dinosaur tracks. On a tilted surfaceof coarse sandstone that formed the bedof the small dry wash were myriad im-prints andmarkings. Soon we picked outlarger tracks that could have been madeby nothing but a dinosaur!Our trip to the desert was a success!W e had found the trail of a prehistoricmonster. And as we spread our sleepingbags out upon the sandstone, presum-ably the first men to sleep in a dinosaurfootprint, the satisfaction of conquestcame over usfollowed during thenightby a sad, hard realization that sandstonedinosaur tracks were not made to sleepin.All the next morning we feasted ondinosaur tracks. We could see clearlyamong a hodge-podge of lesser shapelessimpressions, the larger dinosaur foot-prints; could see in several instanceswhat were clearly to us the claw marks;were so thrilled at seeing actual prehis-toric tracks that we returned home withvivid accounts of our experience.Since that time, however, there havecome vague mutterings of doubt andopen statements that the "footprints" ofSplit mountain were not dinosaur tracksat all. Someone had advanced the theorythat they were nothing more than the

result of ages of erosion in the sand-stone.Now, no one likes to surrender hisfondest beliefs without at least a feeblesort of resistance. So wedetermined to goonce more to the desert for another look,to study and photograph the tracks.Before our first visit to "dinosaur can-yon" we had never actually seen realdinosaur footprints, but had read aboutthose found in other parts of the world.Hence weknew that such things existed.Then, too, someone with red paint hadthoughtfully written "Dinosaur Tracks"and painted a large red arrow on a nearbyrock. So we were led without questioninto the belief that these were genuine.But as we walked again up dinosaurcanyon we decided that this time wewould be less imaginative, more coldlycritical.At first sight the "tracks" appear tobe nothing more than indentations inthe surface of coarse sandstone. But oncloser examination onecannot fail to no-tice that among them are many largerimpressions which have a definite, uni-form shape.Many of these have been battered andothers obliterated by countless centuriesof erosion as water and boulders have

been carried down over thesurface of thesandstone. Some have been chiseled outin large blocks and carried away by amore modern agent of erosion the20 The DESERT MAGAZINE


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vandal souvenir hunter. But there stillremains a large assortment for purposesof study.Those of uniform shape suggest moreclosely the imprints of the feet of ele-phantsthey are more clearly circular,but with no toe marks. There is onetrack, however, which immediately at-tracts the eye as most likely to have beenmade by a reptile of the dinosaur class.This impression, if it can be called thetrack of an ancient reptile, was made byone having one single great middle toeor claw. This track measures approxi-mately 14 inches long by nine incheswide. The other more circular impress-ions average about 10 or 12 inches indiameter.We knew that if these markings actual-ly were the tracks of prehistoric dinosaurswe would have to think of them as hav-ing been made many millions of yearsago when the present sandstone was soft,probably on the shore of a swamp or sea.or on the bank of a river.

Well, from a geological standpoint,how old is the stratum of sandstonebearing the tracks? It is doubtful thatthis particular layer of sandstone any-where nearly approximates the great agenecessary to place it far back in the timeof reptiles. Most of the sedimentarystrata of this region are of the Mioceneor Pliocene eras which dates them longafter the dinosaurs became extinct. Exitromanticism!Secondly, the Split mountain tracks inno way resemble tracks found in other

parts of the world and definitely deter-mined to have been made by dinosaurs.Nor do they, for that matter, resembleany other known tracks."If not tracks (which we are loath toaccept), what the devil can they be?" weask ourselves.Some of our geologically and paleonto-

logically inclined friends answer that theyare " the result of erosive forcesupon concretions in the sandstone." Con-cretions are what our more practicalfriends term the various nodules or rockswhich appear in a matrix of otherwisesmooth sedimentary rock layers. It a!'happened like this: Ages ago, when thesandstone in question was yet soft, therebecame imbedded in it various rocks orother foreign objects which remainedthere through the long years as the sand-stone matrix hardened. Finally, when thelayer of sandstone became exposed byconstant erosion of water and wind, theseconcretions, being harder and more re-sistant to weathering, were exposed inrelief until sufficiently loosened fromtheir base. Then they dropped out, leav-ing their impressions in the sandstoneas we see them today.

On this very point Chester Stock, emi-nent paleontologist from the CaliforniaInstitute of Technology, has this to say:"I am of the opinion that they are nottracks but represent peculiar concretion-ary structures which occur in the sand-stone. Such kernels of harder rock oc-

casionally occur in a uniform sandstonematrix and when the entire rock weathersthese kernels are exposed in relief or onoccasion may drop out, giving the pecul-iar impressions that look like the im-prints of organisms. Dinosaur tracks asI know them have quite a different con-figuration and their linear series havs awholly different appearance from the so-called tracks at the Split mountain can-yon locality."

A large sail suddenly deprived of windhad nothing on us as we saw our visionsof real dinosaur tracks receive this finalblow. But we are die-hards. There stillremains a persistent doubt. Admittedlythere can be no question that many ofthe markings in the sandstone are naughtbut the result of erosion upon concretion-ary substances. In fact some of these con-cretions in small sizes are still in evi-dence. And were it not for the remark-able uniformity of shape and size ofsome of the larger tracks, there could beno doubt as to the validity of this ex-planation.

However, our doubt is based not onlyon the track-like appearance of the mark-ings, but likewise on this question: Is itlikely that there would occur so manyconcretionary impressions of such re-markably similar shape and size? Fur-thermoreBut why not let the reader travel tothe head of the gorge in Split mountaincanyon and attempt to solve the mystery

of the dinosaur tracks for himself?TO U.S. 99LAKE

BEN 5 0NS \ f O C O T I L L O T0WN5ITE 'J."l*

&- VALL EC I TO ^m5w> MTS.

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S E F ' T E M B E R , 1 9 3 9 21


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T HE first piece of "sun-purpled"glass I ever saw, was an oldpitch-er handle. It was in a PalmSprings, California shop and the dealerwanted $3.00 for it! I eyed him withsuspicion; but he assured me that suchcolorful trinkets were extremely rare, andin no time at all would be entirely ex-tinct. He was also positive that it tookabout a hundred years to develop a genu-ine purple color in glass, in which timealmost anything could happen to thefragile article; so whole objects in adeep purple were "simply priceless."This gave me an idea: If I could findenough purple glass intact (especiallypitcher handles!) it would be easier thanstriking oil and just as profitable. Andthe sooner the search began the betterbefore the entire available supply hadbeen gleaned by an antique-consciouspublic.I struck out at once. I combed thelandscape from Palm Springs to DesertCenter. I hiked through the Devil'sGar-

den to Morongo Valley. I spent about aweek exploring down around theBorregocountry. But all without finding morethan one bottle-neck a sort of timidlavender! I took the stage to Quartzsite,Arizona and started for the hills.An old prospector, discovering myquestionable errand, looked off into spaceand "reckoned as how they'd be a batcho' glass back up in the canyons wherethere'd been some old minesbut it'sprob'ly all busted up by now!" He alsomused that it took no less than 35 yearsto turn glass the least bit, and 50 yearsto do a good fob of it. Whereupon heventured to display a large wine bottlethat was almost a royal purple! "Simplypriceless!" I said to myself, and offeredhim a dollar for it. After some reflection

By TRACY M. SCOTTSketches by BEENICOLL

What causes an old glassbottle lying on the desert toturn purple? How long does ittake? Do some types of glass"color" more rapidly t h a nothersand does the characterof the earth on which it liesmake anydifference? Therearemany answers to these ques-tions most of them fiction.Here is thelowdown on the pur-ple glass hobby from a younglady who knows. Tracy Scottwent in forpurple glass in a bigway. and now - - well, you'lllaugh when youread this story.

Th e old pitcher handle worth itsweight in gold.

he acquiesced and I felt that the corner-stone of a great fortune hadbeen laid.Back up in the canyons it was just ashe had predicted all the glass was"busted" andthere wasn't a single pitch-er handle in the lot.The remains revealed only a greatabundance of erstwhile whiskey-bottles!Furthermore, none of it was really pur-ple, although some of the thicker pieceshad taken on a slightly amethystinetinge.But I wasundismayed. Formonths thesearch continued. I began to specializeon junk-piles, and got so I could detectone at 50 rods, but there was no purpleglass. The 100, 50, and 30-year estimateswere all probably correct and I washunting 30 years toosoon! I made a tourof all the old Missions, and visited in-numerable ghost towns, but was rewardedby nothing in particular. Even the "pur-ple cache" which an old Indian assuredme lay hidden in the canyon 15 milesabove Imperial dam (which I finallyreached after no little exertion) had al-ready been most thoroughly picked over.

Something was radically wrong withmy technique. Obviously I was in needof more information on the subject. Ihad by this time scoured most of the des-ert between Flagstaff and Mojave withno greater success than an occasionalsmall phial andsome oldbroken dishes.At last reward camein Kern county.I had already concluded that glass mustturn purple in the sun for some specific

reason. Not only are long hours of hotsunlight necessary, but there must alsobe certain chemicals in the glass, andalso in the soil on which the glass rests.From a text I discovered that "under the22 The DESERT MAGAZINE


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ed and blue, or violet rays." This pro-nce of alkalies.

I found that glass jars on which thelids had scarcely begun to rust, were al-ready a deep violet, if surrounded by al-kaline crystals in the soil; while glassjars lying on an acid soil or adobe clay,were still clear, although the surroundingtin had all corroded into dust. Thickglass will also turn purple sooner thanthin glass because of its tendency to ab-sorb more of the sun's light and heat,while glass that lies flat is more likelyto absorb color than glass

193909 desert magazine 1939 september

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