DESERT DRUG STORE

Desert Drugstore by Douglas Rigby

The book DESERT HAPPY by Douglas Rigby (J. B. Lippincott Co.), from which this article is taken, is an informal portrait of the desert as viewed by a newcomer who at first finds almost everything about the place strange and bigbly provocative. As mysteries yield to enquiry, more and more desert wonders are revealed, gradually the details are clarified, the picture takes shape, and the author and his wife, originally from New York City, discovering that they have fallen in love with the Southwest, decide to make Arizona their home. (After two seasons spent in the Catalina foothills, the Rigbys moved to Grasshopper Flat near Sedona, where they have lived for the past nine years.) Many of the experiences described in DESERT HAPPY will In our first visit to the Papago Indian reservation southwest of Tucson some years ago I was puzzled by an Indian mother's instruction to her six-year-old son. "Juanito," I heard her say, "go to the arroyo and get four cuts of the Little Bad-Smeller. Mind you bring good fresh leaves, now. Grandfather has a bad cough."

Soon the boy returned with a fistful of leafy twigs which I recognized at once as stemming from one of the most surprising of all the distinctive aridland plants, the creosote bush. For many centuries this shrub has faithfully served desert dwellers of the American Southwest in prodigal ways but chiefly as a sort of corner drugstore, and while a considerable number of desert plants have been used medicinally by these people, none is so resourceful in this respect as the creosote bush. To an interested visitor a Pima Indian once put it this way, "This plant cures everything. It is what nature gave us." With their gift for expressive name-giving the Mexicans are responsible for the label, hediondilla or "little be recognized by other newcomers to Arizona, and because the author has, as he puts it, "gone to school again, this time to the school of the desert," the book contains much that should prove helpful both to prospective settlers and to seasonal visitors interested in the desert enigmas. Describing a series of episodes around their cottage north of Tucson, the author tells of desert animals, birds and plants and their fascinating adaptations to the desert enviromnent. There are significant stories of men and women who were prominent in the region in the past, and the writer purposefully introduces some unspectacular but typical present-day folk to indicate how moderns are affected by the environment.

bad-smeller," with which many Papagos originally from Mexico would be familiar. After a rain the slim-twigged heart-shaped shrub gives off a peculiar acrid odor that some people dislike, but to me it is not disagreeable, being reminiscent of the aroma of a full-bodied turpentine. To decide for yourself in the prevalent dry weather you need only crush one or two of the small shiny leaves. Bronzehued in winter, mustard-green in summer, each of these

OPPOSITE PAGE

"BLOSSOMING PALO VERDE AND OCOTILLO" BY ESTHER HENDERSON. 5x7 Deardorff View camera; Ektachrome; f.22 at 1/5 sec.; Goerz Dagor lens; early May; bright sunlight at 9 A.M.; Weston 200 meter reading; ASA rating of 10. Photo taken near North Campbell Avenue in the Catalina Foothill Estates on the outskirts of Tucson. The desert bloomed very profusely in the spring of '58 with many varieties in bloom at the same time. Photographer says: "Trouble is not in the same place or sufficiently close to combine several plants into one picture. After struggling with this problem during the cool of the morning, gave up and found this nice combination on the way home! Moral: Don't hunt too hard!" is split halfway up the middle like a miniature pair of Dutchboy breeches. Thus they give the plant the second part of its scientific name, Larrea divaricata, and along with the twigs they provide some memorable usages which the desert traveler might do well to bear in mind.

In all his seventy-two years, I learned that day on the reservation with the aid of a tri-lingual Papago friend, Maria Arrista's father had never been to a doctor. Nor is this particularly surprising when you consider that his village is over sixty miles from the nearest modern settle-nment, that the roads across the desert there are little more than rutted wagon tracks, and that the Arristas have never owned a car. Besides, the outside world holds no temptation for Maria's father or for other elders of his tribe. In the village there are no telephones, no doctors or druggist down the street which itself is only a crooked lane. Under such conditions you must depend upon selfservice and be alive to nature's offerings. On the reservation, however, the hint is broad indeed-as far as the eye can reach, the unassuming and thornless creosote bush is the dominant plant, and in their meager land the Papagos bank on it.

A generation or so ago even our sophisticated urbanites tended to believe that the awfullest-tasting most evilsmelling medicines were the most effective ones, and the potion concocted from creosote bush belongs to that league. I know because I tried it once. Having brought home an armload of branches, I made a pot of the brew the way I had seen Maria fix it for Grandfather. Then I poured myself a cupful. Now I can testify on the end result. Pain, disease, scrofula, nothing can compare with it. When I had restored myself to an approximation of the old order, as casually as possible I offered my wife a taste. But she must have heard my first informal comment. And so, still wishing to share my discovery, I drove to

OPPOSITE PAGE UPPER-"PALO VERDE BLOSSOMTIME IN THE DESERT"

BY ESTHER HENDERSON. 5x7 Deardorff View camera; Ektachrome; f.16 at 1/5 sec.; Goerz Artar lens; early in May; about 6 A.M.; Weston 100 meter reading; ASA rating of 12. Taken on the Hacienda Del Sol Road which leads into the Catalina Mountains near Tucson. This place is just before one arrives at the Hacienda. In early May last year all the foothill Palo Verdes were in bloom for the first spring in several years because of good winter and spring rains. The photographer says: "The sun rises early-also the wind-so it is more comfortable in the morning with better light and stiller air to go photographing early. Sun is too high, light is too bright, and it is too hot to carry the equipment later-I'm home for my second cuppa coffee by 9 A.M."

The Palo Verde is Arizona's state tree. There are two native species of Palo Verde Cercidium in Arizona, the blue Palo Verde (Cercidium floridum), characterized by a blue-green color of the branches and leaves; and the foothill Palo Verde (Cercidium microphyllum), characterized by the yellow-green color of branches and leaves. Both bear a profusion of yellow blossoms when in bloom.

LOWER-"IN A DESERT CATHEDRAL" BY ESTHER

HENDERSON. 5x7 Deardorff View camera; Ektachrome; f.16 at 1/5 sec.; Goerz Dagor lens; early morning first week in May; Weston 100 meter reading; ASA rating of 12. Taken out on North Campbell Avenue, Tucson, near end of the road. Photographer says: "Best item in this scene is the large saguaro which, because it was growing in wash below road, put the top of it (with its blossoms) level with the camera instead of as usualthirty feet over my head!"

our Arizona village with a bottled sample for Carl, local medicine man of the garage. Carl is a hunter and a stoic who has never feared anything, so far as I know, in or out of bottles. As I had anticipated, he consented to try the stuff, but he took only one swallow. Then he blinked and wiped his mouth on a piece of waste-after he'd spit. He looked out the window for quite a speil, and when at last he got around to commenting he drawled he guessed he could about duplicate that there by dissolving an old tire in gasoline, mebbe dilute it a little, with a jigger of iodine.

Small wonder then that the early desert inhabitants who lived within arm's length of creosote bush should have put their trust in its antiseptic promise. American frontiersmen, whose senses were keener than ours, also knew a good thing when they smelled it. Like the natives, they believed stoutly in creosote bush, praised the tea made from its leaves for its value as a laxative, and trussed up their aches and pains in creosote poultices as the Indians taught them to do. So it went for a pioneer named John Dodd who had a wound that would not heal for days on end until a creosote-and-prickly-pear poultice finally turned the trick.

Yet when, convinced by much past evidence, I went to look it up, I was surprised to find that creosote bush is not even mentioned in the white man's pharmacopoeia today. So far the modern American seems to have found his sole use for greasewood, as the plant is often miscalled, in the form of an obscure product sometimes employed by industry to extend the fresh-keeping of lard. More lately it has been suggested that a high-grade hardboard can be made from the wood of this prolific desert shrub. That may well be so, but the few who care wonder what, if the financial backing for such a project can be found, will become of the desert drugstore which is still so vital to many people who have no knowledge of or use for the fine table tops or super T.V. cabinets that would be made of its wood.

The Mexicans, who rely on experience as well as on olfactory promissory nores, have a second and more respectful name for creosote bush than little bad-smeller. Gobernadora or "the governess" they also call it, because it cures so many ills. Their belief in the healing virtues of creosote bush is shared by many Indian tribes. Wherever in this region the shrub is found these people drink down or bathe in the brew made from creosote twigs and leaves. It is a concoction of wondrous impartiality, apparently, to be used for whatever ails a body, whether it be stomach ache, bladder stones, toothache, kidney trouble, rheumatism, the common cold, tuberculosis, infection, a high fever, dysentery, rattlesnake bite, bruises, sores, internal chills, dandruff, or B.O.

The Mexican-Americans of Tularosa, New Mexico grind the dry leaves into a powder which they rub on rheumatic arms or legs. The Pimas of Arizona chew and swallow the plant's gum to prevent intestinal disorders. To the same purpose the Maricopas use a weak decoction made from the bark. In Mexico the soles of shoes are sometimes lined with creosote twigs in leaf "to prevent the feet from perspiring."

Even the smoke of the burning bush is considered beneficial, as is the steam from water in which creosote branches have been heated. New mothers are given this steam treatment by the Yavapai four days after the lyingin. From the neck of many a Chiricahua Apache child swings a keep-well amulet fashioned from a growth produced on the plant by one of the scale insects. One Yaqui Indian medica even prescribes creosote bush as part of her formula for curing an obscure disease which she calls "weakness-laziness."

Larrea divaricata, however, is not confined to the medicine chest in its usefulness. Rather like one of our own transmogrified modern pharmacies, it plays department store as well to its grateful clients. Mexicans pickle the yellow flower buds and eat them much as we eat capers. In southwestern Arizona and in northern Sonora the Papagos tie forked creosote branches to the ends of the long saguaro staves and use them as hooks with which to snare the high-up fruit of the giant cactus which provides them with food and wine.

The gummy lac secretions produced by the activities of a scale insect on creosote twigs are as effective as the best commercial shellac. After preparation, this gum became the waterproofing the oldtime Papago applied to his baskets. It mended his broken pottery. With it he affixed his arrowheads to the shafts. From this natural plastic he shaped his tool handles and made outer coverings for the stone balls of his traditional games. But of all odd purposes the plant has served, the oddest is the scratch-yourself stick. During the periodic expeditions which Papagos formerly made to the Gulf of California to gather salt, a strict taboo forbade a man to scratch himself unless with a rasping stick made from the creosote bush.

Mending pottery, preventing or curing illness, assuaging pain, covering balls for foot races, making scratching respectable-any one of these accomplishments should recommend a lesser plant to the hall of fame. But this bush has also been an indispensable aid to the Indian gods, wherefore Heaven as well as the desert exalts the creosote.

Once, for example, when the world was young, creosote bush stood by to save the life of Itoy, most beloved deity of Papagoland. When the great flood was about to engulf the earth, the old Papagos gravely say, not even the gods were immune to the danger, but they had been forewarned. Itoy, known to the Papagos as Elder Brother, realized that the waters would rise above the highest mountains, on one of which was his home. This knowing disturbed him not, for after all his land was also the land of the creosote bush. He had only to make a floating cask from its thick black gum, climb into it, and all would be well.

Itoy built his cask and added a lid also of creosote gum for extra protection, in case of rough weather. Then he climbed in. The flood came, and before the waters receded, four times around the world Itoy sailed in his wonderful creosote gum boat. At last the faithful bark deposited him on one of the two peaks of Pinacate Mournrain, and Elder Brother was none the worse for wear, just a little hungry and a trifle thin.

While it has been generous indeed to men, few other creatures find consolation in creosote bush. Although unlike a host of desert plants it possesses no thorny armament, its repellent odor and taste suffice to ward off most voracious would-be assailants, animal or insect. In many ways the bush is, one might say, a plant genius which has surmounted, point by point and with unparalleled ingenuity, every test of a fiercely challenging environment. Unlike the narrow-leaved yucca or the night-blooming cereus, creosote has no tuberous storage vats underground to assist it in combating drought. Eschewing the example of certain other desert plants, it does not shed its leaves when the brief seasonal rains have passed, nor does it rush to live its entire life within the span of a few weeks, as do the famed ephemeral flowers of the desert. Nevertheless, in its own way, the pliant creosote outrides the supreme desert enemy, aridity, even as it rode out the primeval flood.

Not only are its small-surfaced leaves thrifty of transpiration; they are covered also with a lifetime protective varnish to ensure a double-tight grip on moisture. To supply a thin bush but a few feet tall the tap-root may delve down five and a half feet, and in some places creosote root-laterals will mesh fifty-five square yards of shallow soil. At the merest shower this efficient plant will secure at least its share of water.

Add a wry trick whereby creosote bush, so it is said, poisons most of its own seeds so that they cannot germinate; thus it prevents suicide by overpopulation in a land of scarcity. And count in finally the secret of the bear, the bacillus, and the bedbug-the ability of the organism (in this case, the seed above all) to sleep on indefinitely, conserving life until the propitious hour. In bad years the entire plant is privy to the allied secret of"drought dormancy." This is the decisive factor in the survival of many desert plants, and in times of direst emergency even the usually bland creosote employs it.

No other shrub in the entire Southwest is as vastly distributed, and in the driest, hortest, most punishing régions, on deserts where few birds or animals or even other plants can win the gamble for livelihood, creosote bushes offer yet another therapy in being the sole retainers of the windswept soil. Managing in the poorest earth, in clay or sand above a caliche hardpan that pales their stiletto-wielding competitors, and in places where the mean annual rainfall is less than three and a half inches, the creosotes anchor thousands of square miles beneath their distinctive bronze or mustard-green hue.

To these, the forlornest of our deserts, creosote bush is what the Tree of Heaven, Ailanthus, is to the pave-- ments of Brooklyn, representing the rooted kingdom of life and showing a green grow where all else green has fled. A benefactor noble in its tenaciousness and abiding endurance, here this brave bush has a final gift for man. To him who encounters it alone in the arid wilderness its example lends an infusion of courage, as the spider gave a leg up to King Arthur, one tonic the city chainstore cannot match.

Cactus

Continued from page twenty-seven Flowers are borne like a crown around the top of the stem, in a spectacular show of vibrantly vivid spectrum hues and shades. Regardless of the size of the Barrel, the flowers are large, measuring from two to three inches across. Spines are dense, strong, and quite interlaced, featuring curved ends on the major spines which straighten as they develop.

Stage wise the Barrel is a jolly character.

The Pincushion Cacti comprise the Coryphanthanae (kob-re-FAN-than-ee) sub-tribe of the Cereus. The flowery-sounding botanical name means "top flowering," a characteristic which qualifies the Pincushion as the little jewel of the Cactus Family. When in bloom the Pincushions are most conspicuous by the profusion and colors of the flowers. At other times they are quite unnoticed by the highway traveler and their acquaintance is better made afoot. Smallest of the cacti is the tiny Arizona Pincushion (Coryphantha arizonica), a native of the Grand Canyon region of northern Arizona. The one-inch ball of the baby Arizona Pincushion and the fifty-foot giant Saguaro represent the extremes of the native Cereus.

Some Pincushions display a pattern of long, usually dark-colored, abruptly-hooked spines in addition to their standard network. These are the true "Fishhook Cacti." A formidable appearance is presented by the Marmillarias, a heavily spiked Pincushion. Only this genus of the Coryphanthanae sub-tribe lacks the outer rib feature of the other Cereus cacti. Instead, the outer surface is a mass of nubs from which develop the areoles and spines.

The word Hedgehog is used universally in describing several species of Cereus cacti. However, it is most accurately descriptive of the Echinocereus sub-tribe. In many cases the clumps or clusters of stems suggest a litter of hedgehogs rather than single specimens. One of the outstanding examples is the Strawberry Hedgehog, so called because of its strawberry-color fruit. This cactus can hardly be mistaken for anything else, growing in low to medium height clumps of up to thirty stems, its shaggy, fat-cigar shaped stems densely covered with drooping needle-like spines one to five inches long. Purple or pink flowers appear in March and April, growing from the sides and near the top.

A most attractive Arizona native is the Rainbow Cactus, a single-stem plant three to four inches in diameter and up to twelve inches tall. It derives its name from the effect of the alternately colored spines which lie compressed flat around the stem. Red flowers appear in May.

The most dramatic member of the Cereus Tribe is the one least exposed to the public eye. Like a Cinderella, she's a ragamuffin by day and for a brief period of each year she becomes Queen of the Night (Peniocereus Greggi), the loveliest and the most celebrated of the night-blooming cacti. You won't be apt to find this character of the split personality by day as her offstage appearance is as unattractive as the gray stick she actually looks like, quite unrecognizable growing as in retirement under the cover of a tree or bush. Since the native species has been pretty well depleted by cactus collectors, you almost have to know the right people at the right time to witness the glamorous performance of her annual flowering act. The Queen blooms only at night following the hottest days during a two-week period around the middle of June. Soon after sundown you can actually watch the petals open in a jerky flow of movement. The large blossoms remain open throughout the night, perfuming the air for a radius of 100 feet. A luminous, almost fluorescent, quality creates a glowy effect in the dark. Lasting one night, the flowers close with the morning sun. The belief that the blooming cycle is over in one night is untrue as the period lasts about two weeks.

One of the most prolific performers at the Rose Tree Inn of Tombstone, Arizona, produced seventy-eight blooms in one season, twenty-five of them in a single night. Despite its glamour the plant is a distinct oddity even in the realm of the oddest characters for its frail upper structure is dependent upon a large turnip-shaped ruberbulb root base weighing from twenty-five to eighty-five pounds.

The distinctive form of the Prickly Pear Cactus (Platyopuntia) is easily recognized the world over. The many species vary somewhat in shape, color, size, and character and distribution of the areolae. Nevertheless, the Prickly Pear Cactus has come to be known as the world traveler of the family. Welcomed wherever introduced, it has naturalized itself into the permanent pattern of its locales, especially in the Mediterranean countries. In Sicily they are prized as a chief crop of subsistence for almost six months of the year. The fruits are not only cultivated and consumed as such but are also made into honey, fruit butter, and a paste of the dried fruit. When in season the fruit is available in the markets of the Southwest where it is used as an exotic salad fruit, juiced, or eaten out of hand. Before eating, however, the fruit must be de-spined, slit with a knife and the rind rolled back. Prickly Pear Cactus has been cultivated and used for cattle forage after the bristles have been burned off. Range cattle eat the stems and it is not uncommon to see an animal's muzzle bristling with spines, which sometimes result in a tormenting tangle from which the beast unable to free himself starves to death. Used extensively in Western landscaping the Prickly Pear has adapted to domestic cultivation easier than the other cacti. In fact, they thrive so well that they can easily become a pest unless controlled early. Compared to other cacti the life span of the Prickly Pear is short, rarely exceeding twenty-five years; but progressive multiplication accounts for its numbers. Almost as quickly As the stems fall to the ground they take root and grow. Flowers appear in the cool periods of early spring and wilt in a day of heat.

Now meet the "devil" of the cactus characters. Pronounced "choy-ah," Cholla is the common alias for Cylindropuntia. Cholla is a pretty word whether you say it or spell it. In Mexican it means "head." In American Cholla means you'll be sorry if you don't use your head and not your hands in the study and appreciation of these notorious but strangely charming characters. Driving through Cholla country during the late afternoon or early morning hours one cannot help but be fascinated by the silhouetted backlighted forms whose outlines seem to glow like bright sparklers etching the dark stems in outline with their effervescent halo. It's a tableau you won't see anywhere else on earth. The desert stage seems strangely alive as each character appears to be stopped in motion, like the dancers in a bizarre ballet.

Don't let the charm of the Chollas coax you too close. If you as much as touch them you'll swear they shot the tiny arrows into your skin. Your reflexes register a sensation that suggests the Choila jumped at you. Actually this is not true. The next time you reach for a Cholla, use a stick. Keep dogs at a safe distance as the extraction of a noseful of Cholla spines is a painful experience for both dog and master.

Most of the larger species are easy to identify. The Buckhorn or Staghorn Cholla (Opuntia acanthacarpa) branches like a deer's antlers. Teddy Bear Cholla (Opuntia bigelovii) is more thick-set and compact with plump stems formidably aglow with golden-yellow or greenishwhite needles that turn brown-black with age. Tall, with a top-heavy candelabra-like form, are the Chain-Fruit Chollas (Opuntia fulgida), distinctive by its droopy, curiously jointed chains of fruit. None of the Cholla fruits are edible. All the Chollas flower.

Other Chollas are not so spiny and less conspicuous, such as the Pencil Chollas and Cane Chollas. Although the Cholla is generally unapproachable to man, the plants are fortresses of safety for desert birds and animals. The Cactus Wren builds her nests in the thorny branches not one but several nests which she uses deceptively. The Kangaroo Rat as well as the Pack or Trade Rat line their tunnels and runways with the spiny stems, and the ground squirrels dart in and out of the Chollas with careless ease at lightning speed. Chollas usually appear in colonies where the stems, fallen to the ground, anchor themselves, and containing sufficient moisture, insure reproduction.

Cholla wood is strong but light-weight due to its airy, cellular construction. Choice shapes are much sought after as flower arrangement props and decorative pieces. You cannot be onstage in the cactus country without meeting the characters that co-inhabit the desert and are usually erroneously called cacti. The most notable cases of mistaken identity are the Joshua Tree and its relatives, the Yuccas, the Ocotillo, and the Century Plant Agave. Joshua Tree Yucca is a clannish character found mostly on the California side of the Mohave Desert, although a few colonies extend over the line into Arizona. These archaic-looking plants like all Yuccas are members of the Lily Family. They bear large flowers in irregular and spasmodic cycles. Since the flowers are not self-pollinating, nature has arranged for the little Pronuba moth to accomplish this important function, while at the same time it uses the flower to propagate its own eggs. This reciprocal arrangement is an exemplary case of interdependence. The Joshua Tree is the eccentric recluse of the desert and for the most part is an enigma to science. Lacking annual rings, their age is uncalculable. An old tree could be from 300 to 700 years old. Since no fossil evidence has ever been found, its evolutionary data broken and incomplete, the Joshua's history is obscure and after a point oblivious.

An in-and-out performer is the Ocotillo (oak-ahtee-oh). When it rains it leafs; de-leafs during the dry season; then rain again, leaf again. This leafing cycle may repeat several times during the year. During the dry season the Ocotillo is a tall shrub with up to thirty wand or whip-like unbranched stems radiating from its base. These canes which develop in almost straight lines display large thorns set at almost right angles to the stem. Leaves when they occur are small and green. In April and May the Ocotillo sports clusters of flame-like, intensely red flowers from high atop the stems.

Yuccas can be bush forms or trees with either narrow or broad leaves, which radiate from the ground or from a naked stem suggesting a palm. A handsome and familiar specimen is the Soap Tree Yucca, New Mexico's state flower. Spires of waxy white blossoms appear in May and June. The Soap Tree gets its name from the substance of its root and trunk which the early settlers and Indians used as a substitute for soap.

Century Plant is a misnomer for the Agave (ah-gahvay). Contrary to the common belief that the Agave requires a hundred years to bloom, the Century Plant is ready to bloom after ten years. Then up goes the tall stalk from which develop the greenish-yellow or whitish flowers. After they bloom the plant dies. Tequila and Mescal are made from the leaf bases and the stem of the Agave, and for this end is extensively cultivated on vast Mexican plantations.

The last chapters in the story of the cacti and their desert co-inhabitants may never be written by man as we know him, for the endless process of evolutionary change does not stop here. Of all the earth's plants the cacti have made the best of life and have triumphed in a feat of survival to such a degree toward perfection that today, poised as we are on the threshold of the Space Age, only the cacti are so far advanced that they alone foreshadow the possibility of introduction to the desiccated planets; and they may yet be the ancestors of the forests in the remote epochs of the earth's future. Anyway, it's a thought-provoking conclusion.

RED FRUIT OF STRAWBERRY HEDGEHOG Echinocereus Engelmannii

PRE-DAWN The dissonant rush Of traffic Dies to a muffled hush In gray wolf hours Before the dawn:-- The City sighs And closer draws Her mantle on.

MISSION FOR DAVID Take the far height Take young laughter Take all joy Following after. Take the courage Born of knowing Take the harvest Of life's sowing. Take the rainbow's Fairest shimmer Take the morning's Rarest glimmer. Hearts that sing Will travel far: Climb a ladder To a star.

WIND IN THE NIGHT Prowling around our neighborhood, Complaining in a thin, Unlovely voice, a black-cat wind Keeps trying to get in, Pushing her sleek, soft weight against First this door and then that, Until Dawn throws wide her window And suddenly shouts, "Scat!"

FIRST SPRING POPPIES Long-stemmed, Golden-skirted, They dance across the sand For their old choreographer, The wind.

SMOKE RINGS Chief Gray Wolf watched the smoke-rings Rise from the mountain dim. "What do they say?" I questioned Affrightedly of him. Slowly he read the message: "Send someone up the pass With ten or fifteen gallons. I'm running out of gas."

WESTERN LANDSCAPE The tawny, folding hills enfence The scattered cattle, grazing down A dry ravine with lazy calm, Their hides a dusty, sun-baked brown. In faded blues a cow-hand parks His bright red jeep, and does not dream That in his weary, weathered way He complements the color scheme.

SIGHT RESTORED: This letter is a pleasure to write since I am requesting something that I have always wanted-a subscription to your wonderful magazine. Two years ago I regained the sight of one of my eyes through a cornea transplant, and very soon I shall enter the hospital for another transplant and, if successful, will regain the sight in that eye. I have always said that some day when I have the use of both eyes I would want to feast them on the lovely, lovely sights and pictures that are in your magazine. I want to read your excellent articles, cut out your best photos, frame them, and adorn my walls with them so that I may really see and enjoy their beauty. In short, it would be a gift to myself from myself for the "gift of sight." Miss June I. Prescott Sacramento 21, California Dear Miss Prescott: Good sight; good reading and God bless you!

OVERLAND MAIL: Allow me to congratulate you on your article, "The Overland Mail," by B. Ira Judd, which appeared in the October issue of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS. It should be of great value to the modern historian and to the layman as well. Two objects are before me here in a cabinet, an ox shoe, and a through-bolt and shackle from a charred ox yoke, which we found buried in the ruts of the old road near the western entrance to Apache Pass. Sad reminders of the massacre of the emigrant train that occurred on that spot. With reference to the illustration of the Butterfield stage wagon shown on page 38 of the above issue, I should like to say that this was not exactly an "artist's sketch" as stated. It was a pen and ink drawing from an original drawing made by my grandfather, Stephen A. Seymour, who designed this type of a "Celerity" wagon as it was called, under the direction of John Butter field. It was copied in part from a thoroughbrace hung wagon used by the American Express Company in New York City. One hundred of these stage wagons, some of

Yours sincerely

which were altered in design, were built by the James Goold Coach Company, of Albany, New York, with which my grandfather was connected. This lighter built, lower hung vehicle was used from Springfield and Fort Smith to Los Angeles. With reference to this, I have seen a copy of the Overland Mail centennial postage stamp, which shows men on the top of what might be called a "hard top" coach, evidently shooting at Indians. The heavy built, full bodied coach with seats on top could never have made the required time over the route, and there is no record that such a coach was ever used through the Indian country during the time the Butterfield Mail operated over the Southern Route.

GUNSLINGERS: The November issue of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS magazine was read with much interest and I would like to take this opportunity to compliment you on this fine publication. In that issue "Gunslingers of the Old West" is the feature, and paintings of the characters are truly works of art. I would certainly be interested in buying a copy in color of each one of these paintings. I thought it possible that you would have some copies run off on a high grade paper suitable for framing, and should such be the case I wanted to put my order in for one or two of these sets.

I would appreciate you advising me if these will be available for purchase and the amount of these pictures. R. E. Beard Eagle Pass, Texas

OPPOSITE PAGE “STAGHORN CHOLLA” BY JOSEF MUENCH. 4x5 Linhof Super Technika camera; daylight Ektachrome; f.22 at 1/10th sec.; 5" Schneider Xenar lens; April; sunny midday. Photo taken in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Southern Arizona. The yellow flowers of this Staghorn Cholla (Opuntia versicolor) seemed an appropriate foreground to lead the eye out into the widespread panorama of the arboreal desert. Saguaros, Organ Pipes, Ocotillos and more of the marvelous vegetation spread to the dark outlines of Diaz Peak, capturing, the photographer felt, the very breath of spring in the National Monument.

BACK COVER “BEAVERTAIL CACTUS” BY CARLOS ELMER. 4x5 Burke & James Press camera; Ektachrome; f.22 at 1/10th sec; 90mm Schneider Angulon wide-angle lens; spring; bright sunlight; 400 meter reading; ASA rating of 10. Taken about two miles west of Hoover Dam on the road to Boulder City. This view looks northeast into Arizona's Mohave County, featuring colorful Fortification Hill at the right of the picture. The photographer says: “The magic of the wide-angle lens permitted me to sneak up right on top of this cactus plant to show its blossoms as well as the blue waters of Lake Mead in the distance. We oldtimers of this region are always surprised anew to see these waters where once we remembered only rocks and hills. One native reputedly was so sure it was a mirage that he drove his car right into the lake.”