CHAPTER VIII
THE LAND WHERE IT NEVER RAINS
It was well on in the afternoon of the next day when Roger woke, to findhis friend the frontiersman bustling about the camp. He came sharplywhen the boy hailed him.
"See here, lad," he said, "I figured that a rest wouldn't hurt you any,so I told the thin fellow that if you stayed on here a while, I didn'thave much on hand, and I'd keep you company. Jest to watch that youdidn't get up in the middle of the night and try and find some other newtrail. So it's you and me for a few days, and I guess that teamster ofyours ought to show up soon, because, of course, he doesn't knowanythin' about what's been goin' on."
A couple of lazy weeks passed by rapidly, lazy because the Westernerinsisted on doing all the work that needed to be done, and before theywere over Roger found that he had nearly regained his full strength, hiswiry frame recuperating without loss of vitality. Masseth, on hisreturn, was much gratified to find how well the boy had got along, andthe following week he took him alone to one of the most prominentstations on the northern side.
"Now, Roger," Masseth said to him, "I've just about finished what I wantto do on this side, so I'm going across to run a level on the otherside. But I'm very anxious to get a clear sight of this peak, wherewe're standing, for an extensive triangulation, in order to correct orrather verify some results. The only way in which this can be done is toflash a heliograph message to me, at a certain time on a certain day, inthe way I showed you last week."
"Across seven miles?" asked the boy in amazement.
"More than that," said his chief, smiling. "Now here is the way you hadbetter get at it. In this box, which you see has been securely fastenedto the rock, are two pieces of tin, one with a quarter of an inch holein it, the other with a hole an inch square. They point, withmathematical correctness, to a peak on the other side, which is an oldstation, and easily seen. If you look through, you can see the place."
Roger bent down, and looking through the aperture was able to determinea slight projection on the far distant bank, which he described andwhich was in verity the point sought.
"Now," continued Masseth, "two months hence, or to be more exact, sixtydays from now, at eight o'clock in the morning, I will be waiting atthat point on the other side, and I shall expect you to be here. Overthe further piece of tin, as you see, I have hung a cloth, which you candrop while you are testing the glass. In this movable frame, so devisedthat it can be screwed up or down, or shifted slightly sideways, arrangethe glass so that the reflection of it, shining through the larger hole,appears at an equal distance on all sides of the smaller opening. Youunderstand me?"
"Quite, Mr. Masseth," answered the boy, who had been listening with allhis ears.
"Very well," the older man continued. "At eight o'clock sharp, then, youwill raise quickly the curtain in front of the smaller hole, and drop itagain, doing this three times, allowing the hole to remain open for tenseconds each time. Do that every five minutes for half an hour, or sixtimes in all, to allow for any possible variation of time in your watch.By the way, you had better have two watches in the event of one of themstopping or the hands catching, or something of that sort, because amonth's work will depend on getting that signal. But I think I can trustyou."
"You can, indeed, Mr. Masseth," said Roger. "But what shall I be doingduring those two months? Am I to remain alone in camp?"
"Hardly," said his chief, smiling. "The Survey does not waste men thatway. Mr. Mitchon has written me that Mr. Herold desires you should havean insight into the varied work of the department, and I have arrangedfor another topographic aid to meet me on the other side, so that,except for this heliograph signal, which I must remind you isexcessively important, you will have finished with the work here."
"Then what?"
"Death Valley and the Mohave Desert," replied his chief. "It is perhapsa little hard to send you into a hot section of the country at this timeof year, but, you see, you cannot go too far away because of yourengagement with the sun on a morning two months hence--by the way, if itis cloudy, which is so rare a contingency as scarcely to be reckoned on,signal the next morning at the same hour--so you must stay near by,and the most interesting work at hand is that being done in thewaterless country."
TWENTY-SEVEN MILES FROM WATER.
Shelter camp in Great Dry Desert, life being sustained by constantrelays from distant wells.
_Photograph by U.S.G.S._]
"Death Valley," the boy repeated, his eyes sparkling with excitement, "Ihave always wondered what Death Valley was really like."
"That will give you a chance to see it, and to find out for yourself."
"But how?" asked the boy surprisedly. "Isn't the air poisonous, orsomething? I had an idea that nothing could live in Death Valley."
Masseth smiled.
"You're mixing up some fairy story of the Upas Tree, or something ofthat sort," he said. "There's nothing very dangerous in Death Valley,except the lack of water. And even that is nothing like it used to be,because, while they have not found any more water, the places wherepools do exist are carefully mapped out and made easy of access. But itis a grim and fearful place unless every step of the journey iscarefully planned with relation to those few scanty wells."
"Then," said the boy, "if it is just lack of water, why was it calledDeath Valley?"
"A party of emigrants gave it that name," said the chief quietly, "andto them its sinister title bore a grim meaning. They had passed throughthe desert, suffering incredible hardships and were greatly weakenedwhen they arrived at the valley. Still they pluckily journeyed on tillthey reached those salt and borax flats, where the surface is rougher totravel on than can be imagined, the salt having formed in sharp spikesand jagged scales with their edges at every angle, and shallow pansfilled with dreadfully salt water. But it was water, and many of theparty sought thus to quench their thirst."
"Although it was salt!" cried Roger. "I should think it would have madethem crazy."
"It did," responded the older man. "The torture of an unquenchablethirst with no means to allay it, led first to madness, then to death,and the valley claimed a fearful toll. Some died outright, others becamemaniacal, several indeed having to be shot by their comrades in aneffort to save the lives of those that remained. Few animals and fewermen found their way to the scanty water of the Panamint, and the tale astold by the survivors made the words Death Valley a name of fear to the'Forty-Niners' and other early travelers in what was then known as the'Great American Desert.' Death Valley it was called, and Death Valley itwill remain until all memory of America's pioneers is past."
"And is the Survey working in there, too?"
"I happen to know that there is a short reconnoissance trip to be madeto look into the question of the borax deposits of the Valley and theMohave Desert, and if you start right away, you ought to be able to getto Daggett a week before the party reaches there, or at the slowest, inplenty of time. The borax industry is large, and as it depends in agreat measure on the information furnished by the Survey, it might be agood thing for you to know something about."
"And how shall I get there?"
"I will lend you Duke."
"Your own horse? And what will you do, Mr. Masseth?"
"Oh, I'll take Black's mare, and let him ride one of the mules over. Iam none too anxious to take Duke through the Canyon any more than I haveto."
"And the route?" queried the boy.
"You will not find any difficulty there, I think, because all you haveto do is to follow the edge of the Canyon. You go west and then south,over the famous Hurricane Fault, and beside that mighty gate a milehigh through which the Colorado runs, passing from the grandeur of theCanyon to the dismal torrid lower Sierra country. You will reach theSanta Fe at Needles, where you can take the train for Ludlow, andchanging there go to Daggett, to await the arrival of the party. It isnot such a great distance, and there are trails all the way to Needles.But remember, you are still under my direction, and all this is merely
incidental to the main piece of work I require of you, and that is, theheliograph signal on October 21st."
"I'll be there, Mr. Masseth," said Roger quietly. "You can bank on mefor that."
The boy was so silent on his way back to camp that Masseth rallied him alittle on his unusual reserve.
"Don't you want to go into the Mohave country?" he said. "Because if youfeel that way, I will try to arrange some other plan. Only I thought youmight wish to see that sort of country and get an idea of what the workis like out there."
"Indeed I do," said Roger hastily. "What made you think I didn't?"
"You were so quiet about it. And quietness is not your strong point."
"It isn't that," said Roger, hastily, "but I was just wondering whetherI would be able to remember all the scenes and incidents of the year."
"Not all of them, of course," said the older man, "but you will findthat their variety in experience is invaluable. You told me you weregoing to Alaska with Rivers later on. Now, if you have seen the DeathValley work as well as triangulation in the Grand Canyon and surveyingin the Minnesota swamps, you will have a fair idea of the immense rangeof the work of the Survey."
"It is a contrast, all right," said Roger. "From the flat, boggy countryof Minnesota to the high dry peaks of the Canyon, and from the intenseheat of the desert to the ice-bound ranges of Alaska is certainly quitea jump. But I'm very glad to have the chance, Mr. Masseth, though Ishall be sorry to leave you and the rest of the party."
That evening in camp, the chief announced his intention of returning tothe far side of the Canyon, and stated that Roger would be left to senda heliograph message a couple of months later, and that in the meantimehe would visit the Mohave country for a few weeks.
"Why," commented the frontiersman, when this plan was unfolded, "I wasfigurin' myself how it mightn't be so worse an idea to prospect some inthat Silverbow country, now that I'm 'way over here. My two boys areworking a small claim of mine near Oak Springs Butte, an' I've a notionthat there's a heap of gold in that Kawich country. Guess I'll go withyou part of the way to Daggett, pard; that is, if you're agreeable."
Nothing could have suited the boy better, and his exuberant delight inthe prospect of his friend's presence throughout the long ride wasobviously pleasing to the old man.
"That's a go then, bub," he said; "if you want to stick to the old trailI'll help you keep it, and if you want to find a new one, why, I'll justfollow right along."
"But when are you going to break camp, Mr. Masseth?" asked the boy, whowas growing a little tired of the continual reference to his crossing ofthe Canyon.
"The day after to-morrow, I think," the chief of the party replied, "asthe work should be done by that time; so you can start the same day,only in the opposite direction."
In spite of Roger's interest in going to a new field, however, andthough he had beside him his grizzled friend, one of the keenest twingesof loneliness the boy had felt while on the Survey came over him acouple of days later, as he saw the party which he had so longconsidered as his own, ride away from the site of the camp, leaving thefrontiersman and himself looking after them. He would much havepreferred being the first to start, but as the main party had to crossthe Canyon, movement at the earliest dawn was necessary. One consolationhe had in the possession of Duke, the chief's horse and a great favoritewith the boy.
As Roger and his friend started on their journey westward, the boy said:
"You were speaking of some mines out this way. Do you own gold mines?"
"No, bub, not gold. Wouldn't have 'em as a gift."
"Why not?" asked the lad, surprised.
"Cost too much to work, and there's no money in it. You know the oldsaying about gold mines, don't you?"
"No, what is it?"
"That 'A copper mine will bring you gold; silver, silver; but a goldmine will only bring you a few coppers!'"
"I never heard that before," replied the lad, "and it sounds queer,too."
"Well, it's true. I wouldn't mind betting," said the old pioneer, "thatthere's more gold been put into gold mines than ever was taken out ofthem."
"How's that?"
"Well, you take it all through. There's the time and money spent by thethousands of prospectors that spend all their lives wandering up anddown the mountains trying to locate the gold. Then, when a vein isfound, some fellow's got to put in a lot of capital to start to work it,and thousands have to be spent for machinery to crush it, before it isat all certain that the mine will pay. Then, in order to raise thismoney, brokers all over the United States are selling shares of thesemines, and they make a good living out of it. And when you think howmany tens of thousands of dollars are spent on each mine, and how manythousands of mines there are which have proved dead failures, and overand beyond this, how narrow the margin of profit is even on a successfulstrike, it doesn't look like much of a paying business, eh?"
The trail becoming too rough at this point for riding side by side, theboy dropped behind, thinking over the difference between the finding ofgold as it really is, and as his adventurous ideas had supposed it tobe. When the trail widened again the boy cantered up, and continued theformer subject with the remark:
"Are your mines copper, then?"
"No, azurite."
"What's that?" asked the boy, who had never heard of it before.
"It's a sort of stone that they make up into all sorts of jewels thatwomen wear. Of course it's not precious like sapphire and emerald andall that sort of thing, but that's perhaps because it is not as wellknown, nor as rare. It's just as pretty, I think. I'd rather have itthan a gold mine or a copper mine, either, for that matter."
"Why?" asked Roger.
"Because it can be worked so easily. You see a small box of that stuffcan be packed on a mule any distance and then shipped, and if adifferent point is used each time no one knows where it comes from andthere is no competition. Now copper, you see, is only valuable in largequantities, and it needs a big industry to run it. And of this rarersort of stuff, there's lots of it around for any one that wants to lookfor it."
"What sort of stuff?"
"All these rare mineral earths. The clay that's used in making gasmantles, for instance; or there's tungsten, which is worth a lot now formaking the wires of incandescent light. I've a friend who's rich becausehe got hold of a deposit of tungsten from reading the Geological Surveybulletins. There's a lot more of it in the Snake Range of Nevada, justwaiting for somebody who's got energy enough to go ahead and developit."
Thus, throughout the entire trip, Roger found his interest in the workgreatly whetted by this new view-point, looking at the Survey from theside of the shrewd Western man, seeking practical results, rather thanthe more professional and scientific aspect of the field worker himself.Indeed, it opened the boy's eyes immensely to the vastness of theimportance of the department when he realized that there was scarcely abranch of manufacture that did not depend on some rare element, in someof its processes, and that these rare elements were brought to light inthe very work that he had been doing. So it chanced that when Roger andhis friend reached Daggett, he was as enthusiastic concerning theeconomic side of the work as he had been regarding its opportunities foradventure.
Masseth had estimated the time of the party which Roger was to join withclose accuracy, for the boy had not been in the little settlement morethan three days when the party rode up, all on mules. Roger introducedhimself and presented Masseth's letter.
"Oh!" said his new leader in surprise. "So you're the boy who crossedthe Grand Canyon alone! I heard of that in San Bernardino, some touristswere telling the story."
"Yes, Mr. Pedlar," said Roger with a flush. "But there wasn't so much toit, I just had to get across."
"Well, I'm glad to have you. Now what is your idea in joining us,because I see Mr. Masseth says that you are still on duty with him."
Roger explained the two months' signal that had been agreed upon, andPedlar, tall and light of hue, as though the desert had bleac
hed him,whistled softly.
"He's always taking long chances," he said, "but to do him justice theygenerally come out all right. As I understand it, then, you want to comealong for a few weeks and then get back to Bright Angel Point in plentyof time."
"Yes, sir," the boy answered.
"Well, that will be about right, only it's not going to take as long asyou think. It will be just a hurried reconnoissance. I suppose you knowwhy we're going in?"
"Mr. Masseth said something about borax," the lad replied, "but hedidn't say just what you were going to do."
"It's this way, Doughty," was the reply. "Borax, you know, was firstobtained by evaporating the water of some lakes in California. Later, inthe beds of some old dry lakes, the borax was found already evaporatedby the sun, and for years these marsh crusts formed the whole supply ofthe country. Then the Geological Survey pointed out that before theselakes were dried up the borax must have flowed into them by means ofsome small streams or just the regular drainage of the rainfall."
"You mean," said Roger, interrupting, "that there must have been a lotof it near by somewhere, and that each rain just soaked away a littleand brought it along."
"Exactly. Therefore it was up to the Survey to locate these largedeposits, and this was done. A large bed was found at Borate, abouttwelve miles northeast of here, and this proved so valuable that moresurveying was done, especially in the region about Death Valley, whereone of the old salt marshes was located."
"Then it was the Survey that gave to the country all the borax it is nowusing."
"It was," replied Pedlar. "Now, you see, I am making a hasty trip to theknown deposits, so that other related beds can be pointed out, as eachnew find adds to the resources of the country, or, in other words, makesthe United States just that much richer."
"How is that?" asked the boy. "The government doesn't run the mines."
"No. But don't you see, the United States means the people of the UnitedStates, and if the money spent on borax goes to American producers inAmerican fields instead of to Italy, where so much of it went before,the country is richer to that amount."
Then, putting the matter as simply as he could, Pedlar explained to theboy how greatly the commercial prosperity of the country is due to someof the lesser known government bureaus, and pointed out the wisdom ofthe fostering of American industries. Even so, it was not until thetangible discovery of a hitherto unknown bed of rock salt, fifty feet inthickness, that Roger realized how, every day in the year, theprosperity of the country was being advanced by this patient scientificinvestigation. The new salt deposit was found at the extreme south endof Death Valley, a few miles before the trail went through a gap in theFuneral Mountains. Skirting the Amargosa Desert, a furnace of cactus andalkali, the party reached Grapevine Peak, from which may be seen perhapsthe most desolate and forbidding view in the Western Hemisphere.
"Behind you," broke in the voice of the chief, "beginning at that peakyou see fifty miles away in the distance, and which is known as OakSprings Butte, is a section of the country containing over 3,000 squaremiles, equal in size to the states of Delaware and Rhode Islandtogether, which is absolutely waterless. In that appalling land ofthirst there is not a river, stream, or brook; a spring is a thingunknown; no well has ever been sunk, and even the Indian waterholeexists only in imagination. At rare, very rare intervals, a cloudburstmay come upon the parched land, but five minutes later there is no signof moisture save for a cup in a ravine or a crevice in a rock, wherewater may lie for twenty-four hours. It is dryer and hotter than theGreat Sahara Desert of Africa, and wild and rough beyond belief."
"And has that awful place been covered by the Survey, too?" asked theboy.
"I did one quadrangle," answered Pedlar, "and there's a party in therethis season."
"But how do they manage for water?"
"They tote every drop. And," with a grim meaning, "they are not takingbaths twice a day at that!"
"On this other side," continued the chief of the party after a pause,turning round, "is a place you know well by reputation."
"That is the famous Death Valley?" queried Roger.
"That," said the chief, putting his heels to the mule's side andstarting down the slope, "is the infamous Death Valley."
Half-way down the slope Pedlar halted and pointed to a sign on a boxlid, stuck into a pile of stone.
"Gruesome advertising, that!" he commented.
Roger read it. It was the signboard of a local undertaking company, andthe implication of such a need for every one descending into the valleywas to the boy more sinister than any of the stories he had heard aboutit. As they reached the valley, dunes twenty to thirty feet highsurrounded them on every side, with a salt sand between, sometimes soft,sometimes with a treacherous crust through which the hoofs of the mulessank, often cutting their legs, into the wounds of which the alkalinedust penetrated, causing great pain. The boy tore his coat into stripsto bind around the pasterns of Duke, but even so some slight scratcheswere unavoidable.
They journeyed on over this fearful traveling for many weary miles,till, suddenly, Roger's quick eyes, eagerly looking for new things,discerned at the entrance to a small rock-bound canyon a sliver of woodbroken off and sticking upright in the sand. As wood in that country isas unusual as it would be to see a shaft of burnished silver protrudingfrom the arid ground, Roger rode up to it. There, penciled apparentlyrecently on the wood, were the following words:
"Have gone down canyon looking for the spring; have been waiting for you.--Titus."
The boy called to the chief. Pedlar came over and read the message, thenquietly and with reverence removed his hat.
"Poor chap!" he said very softly. "There is no spring in that canyon."
He summoned the other members of the party and silently they rode up thenarrow cleft. Roger and the chief were riding in advance, and after afew minutes' ride the latter pulled his mule in sharply, and pointed tothe figure of a man lying near a rock in the full glare of the sun.
"Perhaps he isn't dead?" said the boy, his heart in his mouth.
"No use to hope that, my boy," was the grave reply. "See, he must havelain down in the afternoon, when that spot was shaded, and died beforethe next sun rose. No living man would lie exposed to such a sun asthis."
They rode up. It was as the chief had said, and Titus's friend, whoeverhe might have been, would never see him more.
"Shall we make a grave?" asked Roger in an awed tone.
"Better in the little cemetery at Rhyolite," answered the other. "I willsend word."
"But ought we not to make a pile of stones over him, or something?"suggested Roger, his mind full of thoughts running on the possibility ofinterference by wild beasts.
"Nothing can hurt him here," was the reply. "Not even a buzzard willhaunt so desolate a spot as this. But still----" he paused. Thenthinking that it might ease the boy's mind, as well as show respect forthe dead, he gave orders to raise a cairn of stones over the body of"Titus."
The discovery cast a gloom over the party, and the penciled piece ofwood, which was to be sent back to Rhyolite to be used instead of aheadstone, seemed an uncanny thing to bear. The tragedy had given theboy a violent distaste for the bleak country, for he seemed to see abody lying under the lee of every cliff. He was glad when they reachedcivilization again, and he could turn his face away from the land ofsage brush and alkali.
IN THE DEATH VALLEY.
Opposite the opening to Titus Canyon where the fatal guide-post wasfound.
_Photograph by U.S.G.S._]
When he came to bid farewell to Mr. Pedlar, however, the latter lookedat him a little keenly.
"I could see," the older man said, "that the Titus Canyon matter workeda little on your nerves. Now, I don't want you to feel that you must gethard, for you will find that the finest and most daring men in the worldare often as tender as a woman, but it contains a most important lessonfor you."
"And that is?" queried Roger.
"That it is o
nly the fool who over-estimates his own strength."