us all by a little cry of pain.

"Be careful, Jack, it is also called the porcupine tree by the miners,"
called Mother, "the tiny leaves are nothing more than very sharp and
prickly spines."

"Why is it that so many desert plants have stickers and thorns?" asked
Tom, the rancher's son.

"Why, can't you see for yourself, Tom?" called back Jack, "if they
weren't sharp and prickly all these little desert animals would tear
them up when they were young and tender and they would never grow to be
full sized."

"Yes," said Mother, "it is simply the way that nature protects her young
so that it will not be destroyed in infancy. There are still other
protections necessary on the desert for the hot sun would otherwise kill
many plants. A large number are covered with a soft down which is really
a mass of tiny air cells that keep the stems and leaves cool and protect
them from the hot sun's rays."

"And see, there is a creosote bush, its rich green leaves are covered
with a kind of varnish which keeps them cool the same as the hairs would
do. See how the recent rains have brought out a mass of blossoms at the
tip of every branch, what a delicate flower, held in a pale green cup.
And there is another smoke tree, nearer the water and so it has
blossomed earlier, every point has a gorgeous purple flower."

"See the funny bunch of sticks over here, Mamma," called Mary, "they
look like a lot of candles sticking up."

"And that is just what they are called, my dear, ocatilla, or candle
cactus. They have no leaves for the greater part of the year, but after
the rains they leave out and are soon covered with those beautiful
scarlet bells."

"Yes," answered Mary, "they look like some beautiful winged bird just
about to fly away. And how tall the candles are, lots higher than our
tents back in camp."

It would take too long to tell you about all the desert beauties that
the children saw, they all agreed that nothing as beautiful was ever
seen "back East" where it rains half the time.

At noon they sat down under a clump of mesquite and ate the splendid
luncheon. The pure fresh air had made them ravenously hungry. The
mesquite was a low, stocky tree which did not grow high but spread out
in every direction, branches thick with foliage.

"Why don't the old tree grow up higher and not bother about having so
many side branches?" asked Jack.

Then Mother told him. "Why, can't you see?" she asked. "The sun is so
hot that it kills