Our  friend  at  the  ranch  remembered  that  nearly
forty  years  ago  his  father  had  removed  from  it  scraps
of  iron  and  such  other  articles  as  the  hermit,  even
then  long  departed  and  already  become  historic,  had
left  behind  to  keep  his  memory  gray  (as  I  suppose  a
hermit  would  prefer  to  have  it) .  We  had  no  difficulty
in  identifying  the  place,  though  we  had  not  asked
for  direction  to  it.  A  mile  or  two  up  the  canon  we
found  a  sizable  cave  in  the  side  of  a  stony  hill  that
rose  from  the  eastern  bank  of  the  creek.  The  roof
was  still  begrimed  with  smoke,  so  that  the  swallows,
and  even  the  bats,  had  eschewed  the  place ;  and  Ey  tel
picked  up  near  the  entrance  a  stone  pestle,  such  as
was,  and  still  is  to  some  extent,  used  by  the  Cali-
fornia Indians  to  grind  flour  in  their  morteros.  This
no  doubt  was  the  property  of  the  legendary  man.
A  little  delving  in  the  floor  of  the  cave  brought  to
light  fragments  of  shells  of  mussels  and  clams,  but  no-
thing more  eloquent  of  the  past ;  nor  were  any  reflec-


26  CALIFORNIA  COAST  TRAILS

tive  inscriptions,  such  as  one  would  think  to  be  fitting
if  not  inevitable,  to  be  found  on  the  walls.  But  her-
mits, we  remembered,  are  not  all  given  to  scribbling;
and  then,  our  friend  (if  we  might  take  that  liberty
with  him)  might  not  have  been  able  to  write.  In
fact,  we  speculated  whether  he  might  not  have  been
one  of  those  Kanakas  whom  Dana,  in  "Two  Years
Before  the  Mast,"  reported  encountering,  I  thought,
at  San  Juan,  only  a  few  miles  from  this  very  spot.
