The Sunday herald and weekly national intelligencer., 1891-09-06
MuNoHAusEN NOT IN 1T.
a California story the baron Was In
capable OF.

"A California Story the baron Was In
capable Of
san Francisco Examiner
Thomas D. Carpear, president of the
Downie B. / P. Company, pointed to an
article in the Eraniner on the strange over
flow OF the Colorado desert, and began un-
winding an explanatory yarn
''Some years ago was down in that country
looking for borax deposits and anything else
that promised q commercial venture. This lit
tie summer clothing weather would have been
considered sherry cobbler and two straws in
that climate, and the water wasn't good
enough to mix with whisky. Well, of course,
got lost That's the proper thing to do in
that region, and | didn't wish to break over
the rules. l left camp with a friend, who pre-
tended 70 know all the ear marks of the
suffering land, and put of for little valley,
where an Indian told us there was heap stuff
like ashes on the ground
''My friend was just a plain, four-round
exhibition liar. He didn't know enough
about the desert to keep out of coyote hole
in the broad light of noon, and couldn't have
found his way If the land had been laid off
with guide posts. His horse broke a leg and
we turned for camp. We didn't get there.
We went UP and we went down. Then we
did the regulation trick of going a circle and
came back to his dead horse Our water,
grub, strength, and spirits gave out at the
same time. Our tongues swelled so did our
feet.
''Then couple of Indians loomed up like
the shadow of a great rock in dry and
thirsty land where no water is They didn't
have much to eat, but one of them was carry
ing about with'him pick and shovel. They
said they could take us back to campi five
hours. That was very nice but how was we
to get there? One of the horses was dead.
Mine was beaten out and had to be abandoned.
We couldn't walk, and were actually dying of
thirst and exhaustion.
Why you no catchum fish p asked one of
she Indians.
'Now there is question to put to a dying
man on the Colorado desert, miles away from
water. l thought had lost my mind, or the
Indian had. Ny friend laughed dry blub-a-
lub through his thick tongue. He thought it
was Joke, and he'd laugh at joke if the
arch lend was broiling his soul on fork
But it was no joke to the Indians. Work is
never joke to them, and to catch fish in the
middle of the Colorado desert means work.
''One of them took the pick and the other
the shovel, and, selecting spot with much
care, they began to dig hole in the ground.
1t was just as easy for us to look on and say
nothing as to ask why, and sight easier than
it was to swear. So we sat still and listened.
They dug through earth packed and baked al
most as hard as brick wall. Next they
struck more sand and then gravel
''They must have been down dozen feet
or so when one of them grunted, stopped and
chucked out Topping wiggling fish! Yes
sir, fish: and a trout at that-a true salmo
fantenalis Then in less than ten minutes
they had a cup Of pure water and another
trout. No, that may sound as comprehen-
sive as a statement of newspaper circulation,
but it's the living truth. | knew, of course,
that trout live for years in the wet gravel
every fool knows that-but hadn't any idea
that q man could go fishing with pick and
shovel in the middle of the Colorado desert.
''Now this overflow business explains it all.
There's an underground lake there, and when
occasion fits ii bobs up serenely from below
just IKE geysers which generally have their
periods Of spouting. And you can wager
your life that Ill be down there next week
with my tlve-ounce Leonard; for, mark my
word, there'n be great trout fishing on the
Colorado bottom during the damp SPELL"