The daily morning journal and courier., 1901-09-03
little fortune, with which we should know how to make ourselves snug for our old age.--Rene Lara i'll Figaro,
OFF THE DESERT FOR A BREATH.
After Fifteen Years in Death Valley
 He Goes Away for a Whiff of Cool

AIT.
 Mont Lee, most marvellous of men,
 has crept back from his horror strick-
 en haunts in Death Valley to Gods
 country. Over the Mojave Desert to
 the Californian coast he has come for
 the first breath of pure cool air that
 has reached his lungs in fifteen years.
 Mont Lee is the only man whom the
 terrors and priVations of Death Valley
 cannot make afraid. He is the only
 man who can dwell in the shadow of
 mad under the frightful strain to
 which mind and body are there subject
 hundreds who have dared the deadly
 dangers of that desert furnace, that dwell from year to year in the hottest
 spot on earth, where the thermometer
 climbs to one hundred and forty de- grees in the shade and the cruel heat
 waves beat necessarily upon their hu- man victim until, praying with parched
 lips for water, he sinks dying to the
 sun baked earth, a spectacle to haunt
 forever the memory-a crazed and glb- bering thing that is more mummy than
 man, the life choked out of him by that demon of the desert sands, Thirst.
 From Death Valley, hotbed of human suffering, grave of human despair, comes the man whom the demon of thirst has thus far tortured in vain. For the first time in fifteen years of physical torment he gazes upon green trees and fertile fields and sees nature smiling benignly upon her children, while wonder, by the frowning Funeral Mountains, she shows a mood so mer- ciless that men, languishing upon her burning bosom, wither into shapes that none can recognize, and perish, cursing her to the last.
 But Mont Lee has not come to Gods country to stay.
 He is going back. In few days the desert will claim him. Mont Lee has declared that Death Valley will never down him, and he has daily fought death for fifteen dreary, desperate lonely years.
 The reason why Mont Lee dwells on desert sands under sky from which not so much as one plying rain drop ever falls Is simple enough. He earns a living there. The sum would not seem one to tempt-seventy-f dollars | monthly and expenses-but it Is suffi- cient to lure Mont Lee and hold him | there, year after year.
 For fifteen years Mont Lee has had | charge of the Pacific Coast Borax com pany's claim In Death Valley For the | past five years he has lived at the | mouth of Furnace Creek, near the Greenland ranch two hundred feet be- | low the sea level on alkali ground. He has outlived every man who has | worked with him in the valley. One after another he has watched them sicken and die, or go mad with the mis- cry that death only can relieve. His task it has been to keep the sand and alkali and the scorching winds that sweep the desert from destroying their wooden headstones, Grim, stolid, un- iaunted, he has stuck to his post, with the demon lurking ever near ready to 5lay. His health Is not what it was when he ventured first into the valley. -hough he Is still strong. and burly of 'ace and figure. If the awfulness of lis environment weighs upon his spirits le does not betray his emotion.
 Lee has a squaw wife and several lalf- breed children His Indian com )anion remains with him only Q part of he year.
 Lees fate is prophesied by more han one who wonders at his reckless less. It was predicted last year by an i'd and experienced desert ranger named Bennett of Ash Meadows. New, vho lost his life within a quarter of a nile of Bennett's wells in Death Val ey. Bennett was crossing to the Hot springs, and the terrific heat robbed Jim of his reason. Jumping from the wagon he tore off his clothing and ,roveled in the alkali for water, al- hough there were water barrels and novels in his outfit Mont Lee saw Bennett die. He scoffs at the sugges- ion that he. too, will some day sue umb in the same way.
 "Death Valley" he repeats, Twill nev r down me"
 There Is little danger of sunstroke in he valley. The air is too dry for that yo mist veis the suns glare and moisture is unknown. The heat cracks he lips, pinches the face until the food starts, swells the tongue, sucks he moisture from the body-and then omes madness, and upon the heels of 1adness treads the spectre, Death.
 Mont Lee has a brother, Sam, who ssists him in his work. They have elped to hunt and bury scores of bod ( IS since they went into the valley. It ] the custom of miners in the desert to stablish the grave of an unfortunate -ayfarer by a piece of scantling at the cad and foot of each nameless grave. andstorms tear away the humble lonuments and the next passerby re- laces them. On Lees way back to vilization recently he repaired the raves of the five soldiers who lost leir lives in the Fremont expedition. It is now planned to provide Death alley with sheet iron mlestones with lgraved directions, that will be heat nd wind proof, guiding to the alkali fl ater pools. Frequently at these yer in-infested pools Mont Lee has been ompeled to strain his drinking water trough towel Yet he Is going back.-San Francis