Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-09-11

motor, and we were roaring across the
desert in the direction of Owl Hole.
1t was nearly three o'clock in the
afternoon when we left the edge of
the gilch that had come SO near
TO being our tomb, but from the hour
until shutdown never once had the
motor throttle completely closed. l
drove over the rough ground with
Fletcher bouncing about in the side
car like bag of meal. Occasionally
he groaned until l could hear him
above the roar of the motor. i knew
that the ridge was Undoubtedly caus-
ing him untold agony, but there was
nothing to do but push on, and just
as the last rays of daylghtS faded
away. we pulled up at Owl Hole.
But for the fact that our head
lights had been smashed when the
machine plunged over the cliff. I
should have pushed on to Paradise
Spring that night. The pangs of
hunger gave me ample reason for
wanting 10 reach the first outpost of
civilization at the earliest possible
moment. but without headlights
attempting to travel would probably
only take us into new troubles. There
was nothing to, do but camp for the
night. with only coffee to partially
relieve my craving for food.
AS Il was DOIIlnS lH6
Fletcher scented the aroma in the
air. began to talk more nationally
than at any time since meeting with
his injury, and declared that he
thought he could drink some of the
beverage. | poured out a tin cup
full of 1t for him, and after drinking
it he5seemed to be tremendously i'm
proved.
Tn the morning we had more coffee,
and the light stimulant of it
seemed to augment Jacks strength
TO a point where he was able to stand
without my holding on to him. Later,
when we were ready to move he
appeared to be quite rational again,
and managed to get into the sidecar
unaided. Best of all. noted from
feeling his forehead that his fever
had almost entirely subsidized.
With Paradise Spring 40 miles
away, and the desert village of Bar
stow only 81 miles beyond, l drove
across the desert that morning, de-
termined to reach that outpost Of
civilization that day IL it were
humanity possible to do so. drove
all forenoon without a stop. and on
into the middle of the afternoon,
until my strength began to wane to
the point where II seemed that [
could not hang on to the handle bars
another minute. 'e~
The desire TO sleep almost over
came me, and several times l was all
but jolted off the machine as we
into cross washes and deep
sand at moments when I believe L
was on the verge of doing roff.
Realizing that my condition yeas liza
BILE TO lead us into disaster again,
and knowing that we were I'M no
condition to face it. ! was compelled
to slow down somewhat. Accord
ingly, it was nearly six o'clock that
evening before we reached Paradise
Spring, where a distinct surprise was
in store for us. @tFj-st
Paradise Spring is located In deep
between two ranges of arOl-
canic hills. and any vehicles approach
ing it from the surrounding desert
must come down the bottom ,ot Ithe
wash. With the motor roaring in our
haste to get to the spring and ON 10
Barstow, we came rafting doWnsthe
canyon and around the face of the wall
beside the water-hole to come upon
man kneeling there filling canteen.
He had much the appearance of a
desert prospector, but was complete
stranger to us. AS we came up r"
looked at us for several seconds w.
an expression of dumfounded amaze
ment. Then he dropped his canteen.
and ran down the canyon like
unatic, or one who had seen a couple
Of evil spirits, shouting at the top of
mis- voice:
- They're alive. They're alive:
They're aliver'
l was just wondering il he was mad
when dozen men came running up
he canyon-and l recognized the one
n the lead as Mark Williamson. the
PRESIDENT of the Los Angeles Motor
Iycle Club. With them was my wife,
Williamson came dashing forward
md. grabbing Fletcher and me by the
land, exclaimed:
Good heavens! men, what a joy It
; to find you alive. We gave you up
or dead three days ago. We've
ombed this desert over, gave you up
or lost, and were on our way home.
tcopyrirht 1917