or white women--Death Valley was fatal to them.
The Indians spent the summers up on the mountains. Denton said heat
affected men differently. Those who were meat eaters or alcohol
drinkers, could not survive. Perfect heart and lungs were necessary to
stand the heat and density of atmosphere below sea level. He told of a
man who had visited his cabin, and had left early in the day,
vigorous and strong. A few hours later he was found near the oasis
unable to walk, crawling on his hands and knees, dragging a full canteen
of water. He never knew what ailed him. It might have been heat, for the
thermometer registered one hundred and thirty-five, and it might have
been poison gas. Another man, young, of heavy and powerful build, lost
seventy pounds weight in less than two days, and was nearly dead when
found. The heat of Death Valley quickly dried up blood, tissue, bone.
Denton told of a prospector who started out at dawn strong and rational,
to return at sunset so crazy that he had to be tied to keep him out of
the water. To have drunk his fill then would have killed him! He had to
be fed water by spoonful. Another wanderer came staggering into the
oasis, blind, with horrible face, and black swollen tongue protruding.
He could not make a sound. He also had to be roped, as if he were a mad
steer.

[Illustration: IN THE CENTER OF THE SALT-INCRUSTED FLOOR OF DEATH
VALLEY, THREE HUNDRED FEET BELOW SEA LEVEL]

I met only one prospector during my stay in Death Valley. He camped with
us. A rather undersized man he was, yet muscular, with brown wrinkled
face and narrow dim eyes. He seemed to be smiling to himself most of the
time. He liked to talk to his burros. He was exceedingly interesting.
Once he nearly died of thirst, having gone from noon one day till next
morning without water. He said he fell down often during this ordeal,
but did not lose his senses. Finally the burros saved his life. This old
fellow had been across Death Valley every month in the year. July was
the worst. In that month crossing should not be attempted during the
middle of the day.

I made the acquaintance of the Shoshone Indians, or rather through
Nielsen I met them. Nielsen had a kindly, friendly way with Indians.
There were half a dozen families, living in squalid tents. The braves
worked in the fields for Denton and the squaws kept to the shade with
their numerous children. They appeared to be poor. Certainly they were a
ragged unpicturesque group.