Far off, down the incline of the plain, we could see the spot known as Bonita. Between us and the town all was open, save for some sage bushes here and there dotting the view. Surely McGill should now be on his way back, but not a sign of him could we see. We recalled the fact that we were hungry. Bates rummaged in the kit. The net results were a small paper of biscuits and a tin of beef--nothing else. We ate all the biscuits and half of the beef, collected more firewood, and, at about six o’clock, discovered the team slowly wending its way from Bonita. It was more than an hour before it arrived at our camp. Another serious matter now confronted us. Either we must stay with our improvised camp or, as McGill suggested, make for Brick Dust Canyon, in the mountain, where lived a frontiersman named James W. Smith, who had a little farm situated on an oasis of productive earth in the midst of this vast wilderness of alkali and sand. Eventually we decided upon the latter alternative, and succeeded in loading up and making a start. For a long time we crept upward, no one riding except McGill, in order to relieve the tired animals. Reaching the summit of the ascent at last, McGill stopped, for we had now to descend into a deep canyon. Daylight had by this time given way to deepest night, and ahead all looked black and forbidding. Our driver could not even see the road, which was, moreover, obscured by a growth of trees in the canyon. “Gentlemen,” said McGill, “this rig has no brake to hold it. There is a big down-grade here and a sharp turn at the bottom. From there to Jim’s house is about a mile. We must manage to stop one of the hind wheels, for these mules will never be able to hold the load in check; besides, I can’t see the road, and must let the animals take their course.” We tied the right rear wheel with a stout bit of rope and started again, but with this difference--Levy, Bates, and I each lighted cigars, which Levy had brought from Bonita, and, puffing vigorously at these, walked ahead of the load, endeavouring to pilot McGill by the glow of the lighted “stogies.” There were times when the mules and the locked wheel were insufficient to check the wagon to any great extent, on account of the steepness of the grade, but at first all went well. It was not long before we reached the sharp turn at the bottom. We were greatly in advance of McGill now, and, indeed, we could hear nothing of him, so Levy went back to investigate and to warn him of the danger ahead. He found the wagon halted at a fairly level spot to recuperate the exhausted animals. Levy told the Scotsman that he was about to plunge down the last and most precipitous piece of road, and urged him to give it up. McGill was headstrong, however, and insisted upon going ahead, so we took up our stand with our cigars, to mark the turn at the bottom, and the big vehicle started.