With that the prospector appeared to have talked himself out for the present, and he devoted his efforts to a selection of parts of his outfit that manifestly he meant to turn over to Adam. At length having made the selection to his satisfaction, he went out to wake up the burro Jinny. As he led Jinny into camp all the other burros trooped along.
“Watch me pack an’ then you try your hand on Jinny,” he said.
Adam was all eyes while the prospector placed in position the old ragged pads of skins and blankets, and the packsaddles over them, to be buckled carefully. It was all comparatively easy until it came to tying the pack on with a rope in what Dismukes called a hitch. However, after Dismukes had accomplished it on three of the other burros, Adam believed he could make a respectable showing. To this end he began to pack Jinny, and did very well indeed till he got to the hitch, which was harder to tie than it looked. After several attempts he succeeded. During this procedure Jinny stood with one long ear up and the other down, as if nothing on earth mattered to her.
“Carry the canteen of water yourself,” said Dismukes, as he led Adam out from under the tree and pointed west. “See where that long, low, sharp ridge comes down to the desert?... Well, that’s fifty miles. Around that point lies a wide canyon. Indians live up that canyon. They are good people. Stay with them—work for them till you learn the desert.... Now as to gettin’ there. Go slow. Rest often in the shade of ironwoods like this one. Take a good rest durin’ the middle of the day. As long as you sweat you’re in no danger. But if your skin gets dry you need to get out of the sun an’ to drink. There are several springs along the base of this range. Chocolate Mountains, they’re called. By keepin’ a sharp eye for patches of bright-green brush you’ll see where the water is. An’ don’t ever forget that water is the same as life blood.”
Adam nodded solemnly as he realized how the mere thought of thirst constricted his throat and revived there a semblance of the pain he had endured.
“Go slow. Maybe you’ll take two or three days to reach the Indians. By keepin’ that ridge in sight you can’t miss them.”
The next move of the prospector was to take Adam around on the other side of the tree and wave his hand at the expanse of desert.
“Now follow me an’ get these landmarks in your mind. Behind us lies the Chocolate range. You see it runs down almost southeast. That shiny black mountain standin’ by itself is Pilot Knob. It’s near Yuma, as of course you remember. Now straight across from us a few miles lies a line of sand dunes. They run same way as the Chocolates. But they’re low—can’t be seen far. Do you make out a dim, gray, strange-lookin’ range just over the top of them?”
“Yes, I see that clearly. Looks like clouds,” replied Adam.
“That’s the Superstition Mountains. You will hear queer stories about them. Most prospectors are afraid to go there, though it’s said Pegleg Smith’s lost gold mine is somewhere in there. The Indians think the range is haunted. An’ everyone who knows this desert will tell you how the Superstition range changes somehow from time to time. It does change. Those mountains are giant sand dunes an’ they change their shape with the shiftin’ of the winds. That’s the fact, but I’m not gainsayin’ how strange an’ weird they are. An’ I, for one, believe Pegleg Smith did find gold there. But there’s no water. An’ how can a man live without water?... Well, to go on, that dim, purple, high range beyond the Superstitions lies across the line in Mexico.... Now, lookin’ round to the right of the Superstitions, to the northwest, an’ you see how the desert slopes down an’ down on all sides to a pale, hazy valley that looks like a lake. It’s the Salton Sink—below sea level—an’ it’s death for a man to try to cross there at this season. It looks obscured an’ small, but it’s really a whole desert in itself. In times gone by the Colorado River has broken its banks while in flood an’ run back in there to fill that sink. Miles an’ miles of fresh water which soon evaporated! Well, it’s a queer old earth an’ this desert teaches much.... Now look straight up the valley. The ragged high peak is San Jacinto an’ the other high one farther north is San Gorgonio—two hundred miles from here. Prospectors call this one Grayback because it has the shape of a louse. These mountains are white with snow in the winter. Beyond them lies the Mohave Desert, an immense waste, which hides Death Valley in its iron-walled mountains.... Now comin’ back down the valley on this side you see the Cottonwood range an’ it runs down to meet the Chocolates. There’s a break in the range. An’ still farther down there’s a break in the Chocolate range an’ there’s where your canyon comes out. You’ll climb the pass some day, to get on top of the Chuckwalla Mountains, an’ from there you will see north to the Mohave an’ east to the Colorado—all stark naked desert that seems to hit a man in the face.... An’, well, I guess I’ve done my best for you.”