T

HE reader is perhaps aware that new-comers to the Pacific coast, and especially those who sojourn in California, soon develop cacoethes scribendi, the particular form of the ailment being an uncontrollable desire to write letters home telling all about the climate. Students of history know that this malady was once endemic on the Atlantic seaboard and that as early as May 12, 1688, John Clayton, for example, wrote back to the Royal Society of London an account of his experiences on the voyage to Virginia. ""Tis wonderful," wrote the pious rector, "what influence the air has over men's bodies, whereof I had myself sad assurances." And we may reasonably infer that the reverend gentleman encountered some

that short stay of the Golden Hind at Point Reyes, June 17 to July 23, 1579, experienced the fog and the wind much about as we have them today. He did not, however, experience such a wind as we are going to describe and it was very fortunate for him that he did not. It may seem as if we were bragging of our wind in what follows; but in the words of the New England philosopher, the record shall "come up to the brag." The fullflowing river of speech can do scant justice to so light a matter as air in motion -sometimes called wind-as we have known it on this western rim of a busy continent.

From May 16 to May 19, 1902, northwest winds of extremely high velocity prevailed along the coast of California.

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tempestuous winds on the way over. At that time there were not many dwellers on the Atlantic coast, if we except the Indians; and there were few if any on our section of the Pacific seaboard. one here was writing home letters telling about our climate. And yet one hundred and nine years before the Virginia colonist even began his studies of climate, one of Great Britain's empire builders had landed on this coast and paid his compliments to our summer northwest wind. To be frank, he was not over-enthusiastic about it; and yet, indirectly it was the cause of his going still farther west, sailing around the world, instead of half way, and winning for the navigator undying fame. Francis Drake, from all that we can ascertain, during

At Point Reyes Light for the 48 hours. ending midnight May 18th, the average hourly velocity was 72 miles; for the 24 hours ending at the same time, 78 miles per hour; for the last 12 hours, 84 miles and for the last 6 hours, 88 miles. The greatest number of miles recorded in any one hour was 102, the maximum fiveminute velocity 110, and the extreme velocity, a mile in 30 seconds or at the rate of 120 miles per hour. For the 72 hours under consideration the anemometer at the Weather Bureau office registered 4701 miles of wind. The record is complete except for 17 minutes when the observer, Mr. Walter W. Thomas, was busy replacing the aluminum cups which had been blown off when the wind was blowing 91 miles.

Now do you realize what this movement of air means? An actual record of 102 miles per hour indicates a pressure of about 25 pounds per square foot. Such a blast no vessel cares to face. Wise were the skippers who made for shelter as soon as possible. From Saturday until Tuesday Drake's bay was crowded with a fleet of coasters, liners, colliers, schooners and all sorts and conditions of craft.

If one could travel with the speed of the wind on these dates it would require only 48 hours to go from one edge of the continent to the other. Quick traveling indeed! At 100 miles per hour the 2340 miles between San Francisco and Chicago could be traversed in a day.

One poor wayfarer of the deep, the ship Westgate, was making port at this time. Loyally and fairly had she borne

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T is a difficult matter to know exactly where to place some of the detached bands of Indians found here and there in Arizona. Prior to the "rounding up" of the Apaches and concentrating them on the San Carlos and White Mountain reservations they were scattered over a large territory. One of the most noted bands of fighters and raiders was located in what is now called the Short Horn Range of mountains, near the Gila river and some twenty to thirty miles from the station of Aztec on the line of the Southern Pacific Railway,

With copyright illustrations by the author

Sunset route. Owing to their near proximity to the Yuma river and Indians of that name, they were often termed Yuma Apaches, and this name has led to a good deal of general confusion as to the proper designation of the Yumas themselves, many contending that they are Apaches.

This band was not only composed of fearless and daring warriors, but had as leaders men who were competent to direct raids to take the initiative in the wholesale punishment and slaughter of the white men who had dared to invade their long-possessed territory. It is a common charge that the Indian always skulked in a cowardly manner and sneaked upon his unsuspecting foe, never daring to meet him in the open. That may be true, and yet such conduct does not necessarily imply either cowardice or meanness. It is well occasionally to look at the subject from the Indian side. He was in possession of land over which he had roamed undisturbed (except for the occasional quarrels with his neighbor), for many centuries. He was unarmed, save for the primitive weapons, the bows and arrows, stone axes and hammers, flint-headed lances, of his forefathers. An invader appears who is armed with weapons that kill at long distances, where bow and arrow, stone battle-axe and flint lance or spear are useless as weapons of offense or defense. One or two experiences with such a foe, armed