The first mountain bearing snow, south of our course was probably what is known as Wilson's peak, and the high mountains still farther south, the San Bernardino mountains.

There were no names there known to us nor did we know anything of the topography of the country except that we supposed a range of mountains was all that separated us from California.
We were yet in the desert, and if we kept our due west course, we must cross some of the snow before us which if steep gave us some doubts whether we could get through or not.
We did not know exactly what the people left behind would do if we were gone longer than we intended, but if they started on it was quite plain to us they would be lost, and as seven days had already passed we were in serious trouble for fear we could not complete the trip in the time allotted to us.

We surveyed the plain and mountains to learn its situation and then started, on following our trail.

As we went on we seemed to be coming to lower ground, and near our road stood a tree of a kind we had not seen before.

The trunk was about six or eight inches through and six or eight feet high with arms at the top quite as large as the body, and at the end of the arms a bunch of long, stiff bayonet shaped leaves.
It was a brave little tree to live in such a barren country.