ir perilous journeys.

* The name is written Kuhn, Kuhne, Quino, and in several other ways.
Humboldt used Kuhn, and either this or Kuhne is probably the correct
form, but long usage gives preference to Kino.

** See The North Americans of Yesterday, by F. S. Dellenbaugh, p. 234;
and for complete details see papers by Cosmos Mindeleff, Thirteenth An.
Rep, Bu. Eth. and Fifteenth An. Rep. Bu, Eth.; also Font's description
in Coues's Garces, p. 93.

The method of the authorities was to establish a military post, called
a presidio, at some convenient point, from which protection would be
extended to several missions. The soldiers in the field wore a sort of
buckskin armour, with a double-visored helmet and a leathern buckler
on the left arm. Kino was as often without as with the guardianship
of these warriors, and seems to have had very little trouble with the
natives. The Apaches, then and always, were the worst of all, In
his numerous entradas he explored the region of his labours pretty
thoroughly, reaching, in 1698, a hill from which he saw how the gulf
ended at the mouth of the Colorado; and the following year he was again
down the Gila, which he called Rio de los Apostoles, to the Colorado,
now blessed with a fourth name, the Rio de los Martires. "Buena Guia"
"del Tizon," "Esperanza," and "los Martires," all in about a century and
a half, and still the great Dragon of Waters was not only untamed hut
unknown. Kino kept up his endeavours to inaugurate somewhere a religious
centre, but without success. The San Dionisio marked on his map at
the mouth of the Gila was only the name he gave a Yuma village at that
point, and was never anything more. On November 21, 1701, Kino reached
a point only one day's journey above the sea, where he crossed the river
on a raft, but he made no attempt to go to the mouth. At last, however,
on March 7, 1702, he actually set foot on the barren sands where the
waters, gathered from a hundred mountain peaks of the far interior,
are hurled against the sea-tide, the first white visitor since Onate,
ninety-eight years before. Visits of Europeans to this region were then
counted by centuries and half-centuries, yet on the far Atlantic shore
of the continent they were swarming in the cradle of the giant that
should ultimately rule from sea to sea, annihilating the desert. But
even the desert has its charms. One seems to inhale fresh vitality from
its unpeopled immensity. I never coul