etter. Following the channel a mile farther down to
its confluence with another, larger tributary, I found a lot of boulder
pools, clear as crystal, and brimming full, linked together by little
glistening currents just strong enough to sing. Flowers in full bloom
adorned the banks, lilies ten feet high, and luxuriant ferns arching
over one another in lavish abundance, while a noble old live oak spread
its rugged boughs over all, forming one of the most perfect and most
secluded of Nature's gardens. Here I camped, making my bed on smooth
cobblestones.

Next morning, pushing up the channel of a tributary that takes its rise
on Mount San Antonio, I passed many lovely gardens watered by oozing
currentlets, every one of which had lilies in them in the full pomp of
bloom, and a rich growth of ferns, chiefly woodwardias and aspidiums and
maidenhairs; but toward the base of the mountain the channel was dry,
and the chaparral closed over from bank to bank, so that I was compelled
to creep more than a mile on hands and knees.

In one spot I found an opening in the thorny sky where I could stand
erect, and on the further side of the opening discovered a small pool.
"Now, HERE," I said, "I must be careful in creeping, for the birds of
the neighborhood come here to drink, and the rattlesnakes come here
to catch them." I then began to cast my eye along the channel, perhaps
instinctively feeling a snaky atmosphere, and finally discovered one
rattler between my feet. But there was a bashful look in his eye, and a
withdrawing, deprecating kink in his neck that showed plainly as words
could tell that he would not strike, and only wished to be let alone.
I therefore passed on, lifting my foot a little higher than usual, and
left him to enjoy his life in this his own home.

My next camp was near the heart of the basin, at the head of a grand
system of cascades from ten to two hundred feet high, one following the
other in close succession and making a total descent of nearly seventeen
hundred feet. The rocks above me leaned over in a threatening way
and were full of seams, making the camp a very unsafe one during an
earthquake.

Next day the chaparral, in ascending the eastern rim of the basin, was,
if possible, denser and more stubbornly bayoneted than ever. I followed
bear trails, where in some places I found tufts of their hair that had
been pulled out in squeezing a way through; but there was much of a very
interesting character tha