The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1896-07-12

Southern California his rude adobe was
as much a landmark as Castle Garden
in New York is to the immigrants from
the old world.
Coyote Springs Ben was first brought
to the reporters attention long time ago,
while the latter was receiving instructions
as TO following the trail from the old
Mormon town of San Bernardino up to
Death Valley. AS the reporter leaned
upon the pommel Of his saddle in the
blazing hot sun of a July day a mining
prospector from Arkansas mapped out the
route with his bowie-knife on the smoke
blackened bottom OF his camp skillet. He
located the points of compass and scratch
ed line to show how the trail led across
the mountains through Cajon Canon, then
to the northeast, on the Colorado desert,
past the boraX works to Mojave rocks
then on forty miles eastward across the
awful desert 10 Harqua Hala and Mud
Springs. when you get to them Mud
Springs" said the man from Arkansas,
yer want TO fill up with water, for it
thirty-three miles north TO Coyote
Springs. When yer git there yer will
hnd grand water for yourself and mules
but for every burned gallon yer get away
with yer have got to put up dollar of
gold or silver. That's Ben's rule, and he's
got a monopoly, that can't be beat. Yer
sands. Yer see it's fifty miles an more
after We leave Ben's place till yer git TO
mother spring an that's on the edge Of
Death Valley, an yer got to cross that,
so yer want to keep yer eye peeled er
yer'N so over the range sure"
The reporter assured the prospector from
Arkansas that he had no desire TO die
and would put forth every energy toward
keeping the trail and following il to the
oasis in the desert. But tell me- pard,
said he, "how did this man Ben, at Coy
ote Springs, ever come to get to be so
commonly called the garner or story
teller?"
wen. yer see, stranger, Ben came into
our train down at Cimarron when we were
a-freighting DER the old Santa Fe trail
out of Colorado and New Mexico. and
aXed for a job skinning mules Anyone
could a-seed he war a tenderfoOt, ana
Pete the one with the busted jaw, lowed
it war some woman back east what had
gone back on him, an l lowed it war some
the breeze a-leadin' the sheriff: an after
awhile l lowed Pete war right fer Ben
never had nothin' to say to no man. an
We're as dumb as an old coffee cooler
Why, once I aXed him to ticker up an
when he'd swallowed his pisen l aXed.
perlite like, Say, Ben, old sox what war
yer name back east% and he just turned
white like an walked off an would never
hear me when l called again. When yer
find him Youll know why they call him
the yarner. He beats all you or anyone
else ever did see for story-tellin"
The days dragged slowly along 1t was
in the dead of summer. To the south the
snow crests of the Sierra Madre range
marked dtmly the dividing line between
the orange groves of the Italy of Amer
lea and the sands of the Sahara of our
republic To the south of the Nevada lire
was purgatory, while beyond and around
was inferno. As far as the eve could
see was weary waste of superheated
dazzling, binding sands dotted with
caCu of every imaginable size and shape
The only signs of life We're the innumer-
able lizards that darted across our pa+b
IN every direction, and the snakes, Ia