Arizona Sketches [5]
the same sensation that a man feels who is lost and suddenly finds himself again.
We immediately prepared to drive out to the ranch, which was ten miles distant and reached by a road that skirted the Dos Cabezas mountains. The new wagon was set up and put in running order and lightly loaded with supplies. All of the preliminaries being completed, the horses were harnessed and hooked to the wagon. The driver mounted his seat, drew rein and cracked his whip, but we didn't go. The horses were only accustomed to the saddle and knew nothing about pulling in harness. Sam was a condemned cavalry horse and Box was a native bronco, and being hitched to a wagon was a new experience to both. The start was unpropitious, but, acting on the old adage that "necessity is the mother of invention," which truth is nowhere better exemplified than on the frontier where conveniences are few and the most must be made of everything, after some delay and considerable maneuvering we finally got started.
The road for some distance out was level and smooth and our progress satisfactory. As we drove leisurely along I improved the opportunity to look about and see the sights. It was a perfect day in April and there never was a brighter sky nor balmier air than beamed and breathed upon us. The air was soft and tremulous with a magical light that produced startling phantasmagoric effects.
It was my first sight of a mirage and it naturally excited my curiosity. It seemed as if a forest had suddenly sprung up in the San Simon valley where just before had appeared only bare ground. With every change in the angle of vision as we journeyed on, there occurred a corresponding change in the scene before us that produced a charming kaleidoscopic effect. The rough mountain was transformed into a symmetrical city and the dry valley into a lake of sparkling water,--all seeming to be the work of magic in some fairyland of enchantment.
In a ledge of granite rock by the wayside were cut a number of round holes which the Indians had made and used as mills for grinding their corn and seeds into meal. Nearby also, were some mescal pits used for baking the agave, a native plant that is in great demand as food by the Indians. The spot was evidently an old rendezvous where the marauding Apaches were accustomed to meet in council to plan their bloody raids, and to feast on mescal and pinole in honor of some successful foray or victory over an enemy.
We next crossed several well-worn Indian trails which the Apaches had made by many years of travel to and fro between their rancherias in the Mogollon mountains and Mexico. The sight of these trails brought us back to real life and a conscious sense of danger, for were we not in an enemy's country and in the midst of hostile Indians? Nearly every mile of road traveled had been at some time in the past the scene of a bloody tragedy enacted by a savage foe. Even at that very time the Apaches were out on the warpath murdering people, but fortunately we did not meet them and escaped unmolested.
The road now crossed a low hill, which was the signal for more trouble. The team started bravely up the incline, but soon stopped and then balked and all urging with whip and voice failed to make any impression. After several ineffectual attempts to proceed it was decided not to waste any more time in futile efforts. The horses were unhitched and the wagon partly unloaded, when all hands by a united pull and push succeeded in getting the wagon up the hill. After reloading no difficulty was experienced in making a fresh start on a down grade, but a little farther on a second and larger hill was encountered, when the failure to scale its summit was even greater than the first. No amount of coaxing or urging budged the horses an inch. They simply were stubborn and would not pull.
Night was approaching and camp was yet some distance ahead. The driver suggested that the best thing to do under the circumstances was for the rest of us to take the led horses and ride on to camp, while he would remain with
We immediately prepared to drive out to the ranch, which was ten miles distant and reached by a road that skirted the Dos Cabezas mountains. The new wagon was set up and put in running order and lightly loaded with supplies. All of the preliminaries being completed, the horses were harnessed and hooked to the wagon. The driver mounted his seat, drew rein and cracked his whip, but we didn't go. The horses were only accustomed to the saddle and knew nothing about pulling in harness. Sam was a condemned cavalry horse and Box was a native bronco, and being hitched to a wagon was a new experience to both. The start was unpropitious, but, acting on the old adage that "necessity is the mother of invention," which truth is nowhere better exemplified than on the frontier where conveniences are few and the most must be made of everything, after some delay and considerable maneuvering we finally got started.
The road for some distance out was level and smooth and our progress satisfactory. As we drove leisurely along I improved the opportunity to look about and see the sights. It was a perfect day in April and there never was a brighter sky nor balmier air than beamed and breathed upon us. The air was soft and tremulous with a magical light that produced startling phantasmagoric effects.
It was my first sight of a mirage and it naturally excited my curiosity. It seemed as if a forest had suddenly sprung up in the San Simon valley where just before had appeared only bare ground. With every change in the angle of vision as we journeyed on, there occurred a corresponding change in the scene before us that produced a charming kaleidoscopic effect. The rough mountain was transformed into a symmetrical city and the dry valley into a lake of sparkling water,--all seeming to be the work of magic in some fairyland of enchantment.
In a ledge of granite rock by the wayside were cut a number of round holes which the Indians had made and used as mills for grinding their corn and seeds into meal. Nearby also, were some mescal pits used for baking the agave, a native plant that is in great demand as food by the Indians. The spot was evidently an old rendezvous where the marauding Apaches were accustomed to meet in council to plan their bloody raids, and to feast on mescal and pinole in honor of some successful foray or victory over an enemy.
We next crossed several well-worn Indian trails which the Apaches had made by many years of travel to and fro between their rancherias in the Mogollon mountains and Mexico. The sight of these trails brought us back to real life and a conscious sense of danger, for were we not in an enemy's country and in the midst of hostile Indians? Nearly every mile of road traveled had been at some time in the past the scene of a bloody tragedy enacted by a savage foe. Even at that very time the Apaches were out on the warpath murdering people, but fortunately we did not meet them and escaped unmolested.
The road now crossed a low hill, which was the signal for more trouble. The team started bravely up the incline, but soon stopped and then balked and all urging with whip and voice failed to make any impression. After several ineffectual attempts to proceed it was decided not to waste any more time in futile efforts. The horses were unhitched and the wagon partly unloaded, when all hands by a united pull and push succeeded in getting the wagon up the hill. After reloading no difficulty was experienced in making a fresh start on a down grade, but a little farther on a second and larger hill was encountered, when the failure to scale its summit was even greater than the first. No amount of coaxing or urging budged the horses an inch. They simply were stubborn and would not pull.
Night was approaching and camp was yet some distance ahead. The driver suggested that the best thing to do under the circumstances was for the rest of us to take the led horses and ride on to camp, while he would remain with