ome trincheras in these desolate regions. At
four o'clock we camped on a steep place amidst poor grass, and only
a trickling of water in the bed of a little rill.

Here, at last, the men whom I had sent to Nacori for provisions
overtook us, bringing eighteen dollars' worth of panoche, and two and
a quarter fanegas of pinole. Measuring by fanegas was then still in
vogue in Mexico; a fanega equals about sixty-four kilograms.

This, the messengers stated, was all that the women would grind for
us. Twenty of them had been set to work to fill our order, and when
they had laboured until their hands were tired, they declared they
would grind no more; and if the _caballeros_ in the mountains wanted
further quantities, they should come and make mills of themselves. From
this we judged that their tempers had risen in proportion to the heaps
of pinole they were producing, and that they did not bless the day
when we had come into their peaceful valley, since it meant so much
hard work for them.

Though we were now provisioned for some time to come, I was anxiously
looking forward to the day when we should reach the eastern side
of the sierra. The animals were rapidly giving out, and it was the
opinion of the packers that they could not last longer than a week;
but what little corn we could spare for them each day worked wonders,
and in this way we enabled them to carry us through.

The most noticeable among the plants in the valleys was the madrona or
strawberry tree (_Ardutus Texana_) growing singly here and there. Its
beautiful stem and branches, ash-grey and blood-red, are oddly twisted
from the root to the top. Now and then, in this world of pine trees,
we came upon patches of grama grass. We also observed pinon trees,
a variety of pine with edible seeds.

Apache monuments were plentiful in this part of the sierra, and
after four days of travel, on January 5, 1891, we arrived at an
old Apache camping place, called by the Mexicans "Rancheria de los
Apaches." It was a sheltered place, and we decided to stop again and
rest, as now we could not be very far from the Mormon colonies in the
eastern part of the sierra. We had, on the day before, heard a shot,
which had not been fired by anyone of our party, and we had met some
short-horn cattle that must have belonged to some settlers.

We halted on a bare conglomerate scalp near a little creek, which we
called "Bonito," and which shortly below our camp joins the Gabilan,
an aff