s discomfiture, but he always leaves something in its
place, such as a strip of cactus or a stick.

For downright strategy no creature inhabiting the desert surpasses the
road-runner, sometimes called the ground-cuckoo or snake-killer. Though
omnivorous, this bird lives chiefly on reptiles and mollusks. It is
decked in a gay plumage of coppery green, with streaks of white on the
sides and a topknot of deep blue. In fleetness of foot it is said to
equal the horse. Many stories are told of its surrounding a coiled
sleeping rattlesnake with strips of cactus and then tantalizing its
victim until, baffled in every attempt to get away, the snake finally
inflicts a deadly bite on itself. Then the road-runner leisurely
proceeds to devour the suicide.

The characteristic plants of these deserts are sage, mesquite,
greasewood, and a great variety of cacti. Of the cactus family, the most
conspicuous is the _saguaro_, or giant cactus, which frequently attains
the height of fifty feet. All the cacti are leafless and abundantly
supplied with sharp, needle-like spines which protect them from
herbivorous animals. The bark or outer covering has a firm, close
texture that prevents the sap from evaporating during the long, dry
season. In traversing the deserts during May and June, one is amazed at
the display of beautiful blossoms of white, yellow, purple, pink, and
scarlet issuing from their thorny stalks.

The plant most welcome to the thirsty traveller, and which has saved the
lives of many a wandering prospector, is the "well of the desert," a
barrel-shaped cactus thickly studded with sharp spines. When one cuts
out the centre of the plant in a bowl-like form, the cavity soon fills
up with a watery liquid that is most refreshing.

[Illustration: A giant cactus in Arizona]

Hot and forbidding as are these terrible wastes, they are the dwelling
places of several tribes of Indians. The desert cactus furnishes them a
large part of their food, and the fibre is woven into cloth to provide
them with clothing. These Indians have been acclimated to the desert for
centuries and are well versed in all of its moods and mysteries. They
know of no better abode; neither can they be induced to leave it for a
more congenial climate and fertile soil. Travellers and prospectors have
told many stories about their experiences in these deserts. But perhaps
no story has possessed a greater fascination than that of the lost
Pegleg Mine.

The story of