Little Tales of The Desert Part 3

They ascended the next rise and what they saw was fairyland. They were at the entrance of a canyon. A tiny stream of water ran in the center and beside it wound a narrow trail. Foothills rolled up on either side and the steep walls were a ma.s.s of flowers. Wild heliotrope, thistle, poppies, white, pink and yellow gillias, long-leaved wild tobacco, with its rich yellow blossoms, all were ma.s.sed together and far more beautifully arranged than the stiff gardens in Central Park.

"Aunt Louise," called Jack to Mamma, who was riding behind with the little girls, "isn't that a campfire up on the next hill?"

"No, Jack," she replied, "not a fire, only a smoke tree. That is why it received its name. The branches are grayish with tiny sage-green leaves and at a distance it is often mistaken for a fire as it is all so delicate and filmy."

By this time Jack had ridden ahead for a closer inspection of the bush and startled us all by a little cry of pain.

"Be careful, Jack, it is also called the porcupine tree by the miners,"

called Mother, "the tiny leaves are nothing more than very sharp and p.r.i.c.kly spines."

"Why is it that so many desert plants have stickers and thorns?" asked Tom, the rancher's son.

"Why, can't you see for yourself, Tom?" called back Jack, "if they weren't sharp and p.r.i.c.kly all these little desert animals would tear them up when they were young and tender and they would never grow to be full sized."

"Yes," said Mother, "it is simply the way that nature protects her young so that it will not be destroyed in infancy. There are still other protections necessary on the desert for the hot sun would otherwise kill many plants. A large number are covered with a soft down which is really a ma.s.s of tiny air cells that keep the stems and leaves cool and protect them from the hot sun's rays."

"And see, there is a creosote bush, its rich green leaves are covered with a kind of varnish which keeps them cool the same as the hairs would do. See how the recent rains have brought out a ma.s.s of blossoms at the tip of every branch, what a delicate flower, held in a pale green cup.

And there is another smoke tree, nearer the water and so it has blossomed earlier, every point has a gorgeous purple flower."

"See the funny bunch of sticks over here, Mamma," called Mary, "they look like a lot of candles sticking up."

"And that is just what they are called, my dear, ocatilla, or candle cactus. They have no leaves for the greater part of the year, but after the rains they leave out and are soon covered with those beautiful scarlet bells."

"Yes," answered Mary, "they look like some beautiful winged bird just about to fly away. And how tall the candles are, lots higher than our tents back in camp."

It would take too long to tell you about all the desert beauties that the children saw, they all agreed that nothing as beautiful was ever seen "back East" where it rains half the time.

At noon they sat down under a clump of mesquite and ate the splendid luncheon. The pure fresh air had made them ravenously hungry. The mesquite was a low, stocky tree which did not grow high but spread out in every direction, branches thick with foliage.

"Why don't the old tree grow up higher and not bother about having so many side branches?" asked Jack.

Then Mother told him. "Why, can't you see?" she asked. "The sun is so hot that it kills the tiny buds on the end of the branch; but the tree is determined to grow, just the same, so it sends out side buds, where the sun's rays are not as hot and the short, stubby tree is the result."

"At any rate it makes a fine shade and that is all we need just now,"

answered Jack.

They rested under the wide spreading branches until the sun shone a bit less fiercely, then they slowly rode homeward through the beautiful blossoms, arriving just at dusk, very hungry, a little tired, but happy in the thought that they had visited one of the strangest and most beautiful corners of the earth.