Some distance away was a small ranch house also in
the water. The house, with lights in the upper story, was a cheering
sight; the windmill looked out of place in the midst of all this
desolation of water. Soon other houses appeared with lights showing
through the windows. Once I lost my way and spent a half hour in
getting back to the right channel.
Somewhere in the dark, I never knew just when, I passed the mouth of
the Gila River. In a similar way in broad daylight I had passed the
Bill Williams Fork above Ahrenburg.
At last I neared the town. I could discern some buildings on top of a
small hill, evidently one of the back streets of Yuma. After tying my
boat, I hid my small load in some mesquite trees, then climbed the
hill and passed between two peculiar stone houses dark as dungeons.
They puzzled me from the outside, but when once past them, I was no
longer in doubt. I had entered the open gateway leading to the
courtyard of the Yuma penitentiary. No wonder the buildings looked
like dungeons. This was a new experience for me, but somehow I had
always imagined just how it would look. I was considering beating a
retreat when a guard hailed me and asked me if I was not lost. With
the assistance of the guard, I escaped from the pen and found my way
to the streets of Yuma, just four days after leaving the Needles
bridge.
CHAPTER XXVI
ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER
"Mexico is a good place to keep away from just at present.
Pages:
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289