The Grand Canyon of Arizona [73]
as noonday. The lightning was of a brilliant, violet tint, and shone with fervent intensity. And it was not merely a few flashes. It came down in millions of jagged streaks, completely filling the heavens to the horizon in every direction.
A Frightened Traveler. In one of these blinding flashes, I caught sight of my neighbor. His face wore an expression of anguish. In his dread he had arisen, and had tried to pick up his clothes and blankets, in the hope of reaching shelter. In one of the sudden lulls of the tempest, I heard him talking to himself: "Shall I ever live through this awful night? Can I get to those cliffs? Why doesn't some one come to help me? I'm going to die. There's no help for it!" Taking advantage of the next flash, I picked up my blankets and carried them to the cliffs; then returned to him, gathered up his belongings, and urged him to follow me. As soon as he was secure, I spread out my sopping wet blankets in the first space I could find. Wet through as I was, I rolled myself up in my wetter blankets, and soon should have been asleep, had it not been for the moanings of the man I had rescued. He wished he hadn't come; he was sure the exposure would kill him, and he wondered why people were such fools as to take unnecessary trips. Just then the storm waters from above, seeking their accustomed drainage channels, found their way down to a rock which overhung my sleeping-place as a rude spout, and began to pour upon me in bucketfuls. Yet I vowed I would never admit that my sleep was in the slightest disturbed. So I turned over in my watery bed, and kept up the play until morning came, while the angry man complained the entire time. Funny? In spite of my own misery, it was funny enough to make a burro laugh.
Two Days' Rest. It took us a couple of days to get well dried out, which we spent at Tuba City, a Mormon town since abandoned by order of the Courts, which found that it was illegally located on an Indian reserve. Then we enjoyed a day or two at Moenkopi, watching the Hopi Indians at their interesting occupations, caring for their fields, and preparing to go on to Oraibi, forty miles distant, where the Snake Dance was soon to occur.
Camp at Blue Canyon. The heat was fearful--it was the middle of August -and the sand made hard pulling for the horses. It was late in the evening before we reached Blue Canyon. The road was uncertain, so we camped on the rim above, leading our animals down, as best we could, to a Navaho hogan, where we thought we might get water and some cornstalks for them. We got both, and then decided to hobble the animals and turn them loose in the Canyon, while we returned to our wagon above. The wind had come up, and was blowing fiercely, so, in the dark, I chose for a sleeping place a piece of ground that was somewhat sheltered from it. It was irregular, rocky and rolling, and as the wind continued to blow, the fine sand blew over and on to my face, while the coarser sand settled into my blankets. It was not a refreshing and comforting night.
An Exciting Descent. In the morning, when we went down for our animals, we found that they had broken through the flimsy fence of the Navaho, and had worked considerable havoc in his corn-patch. The Navaho grumbled and gesticulated, and showed unmistakable anger, but I took the matter coolly and, after seeing the extent of the damage, quietly asked the head of the family: "Tu-kwe peso?" (How many dollars?) On receiving his answer, I offered to give him sugar and flour to that amount. We became friends at once, and he invited us to bring our wagon down and spend the day with him. As we were all wearied, we decided to do so. To save going around by the wagon road, he showed us a quicker way of descent. It was a sand bank not quite vertical, but as nearly so as ever any one drove down and lived to tell the tale. So, harnessing the animals, we brought the wagon to the edge of this sandy descent; then, tying all the wheels securely, so that they would drag, all of us holding on to the hind axle and with weights trailing behind, the whole
A Frightened Traveler. In one of these blinding flashes, I caught sight of my neighbor. His face wore an expression of anguish. In his dread he had arisen, and had tried to pick up his clothes and blankets, in the hope of reaching shelter. In one of the sudden lulls of the tempest, I heard him talking to himself: "Shall I ever live through this awful night? Can I get to those cliffs? Why doesn't some one come to help me? I'm going to die. There's no help for it!" Taking advantage of the next flash, I picked up my blankets and carried them to the cliffs; then returned to him, gathered up his belongings, and urged him to follow me. As soon as he was secure, I spread out my sopping wet blankets in the first space I could find. Wet through as I was, I rolled myself up in my wetter blankets, and soon should have been asleep, had it not been for the moanings of the man I had rescued. He wished he hadn't come; he was sure the exposure would kill him, and he wondered why people were such fools as to take unnecessary trips. Just then the storm waters from above, seeking their accustomed drainage channels, found their way down to a rock which overhung my sleeping-place as a rude spout, and began to pour upon me in bucketfuls. Yet I vowed I would never admit that my sleep was in the slightest disturbed. So I turned over in my watery bed, and kept up the play until morning came, while the angry man complained the entire time. Funny? In spite of my own misery, it was funny enough to make a burro laugh.
Two Days' Rest. It took us a couple of days to get well dried out, which we spent at Tuba City, a Mormon town since abandoned by order of the Courts, which found that it was illegally located on an Indian reserve. Then we enjoyed a day or two at Moenkopi, watching the Hopi Indians at their interesting occupations, caring for their fields, and preparing to go on to Oraibi, forty miles distant, where the Snake Dance was soon to occur.
Camp at Blue Canyon. The heat was fearful--it was the middle of August -and the sand made hard pulling for the horses. It was late in the evening before we reached Blue Canyon. The road was uncertain, so we camped on the rim above, leading our animals down, as best we could, to a Navaho hogan, where we thought we might get water and some cornstalks for them. We got both, and then decided to hobble the animals and turn them loose in the Canyon, while we returned to our wagon above. The wind had come up, and was blowing fiercely, so, in the dark, I chose for a sleeping place a piece of ground that was somewhat sheltered from it. It was irregular, rocky and rolling, and as the wind continued to blow, the fine sand blew over and on to my face, while the coarser sand settled into my blankets. It was not a refreshing and comforting night.
An Exciting Descent. In the morning, when we went down for our animals, we found that they had broken through the flimsy fence of the Navaho, and had worked considerable havoc in his corn-patch. The Navaho grumbled and gesticulated, and showed unmistakable anger, but I took the matter coolly and, after seeing the extent of the damage, quietly asked the head of the family: "Tu-kwe peso?" (How many dollars?) On receiving his answer, I offered to give him sugar and flour to that amount. We became friends at once, and he invited us to bring our wagon down and spend the day with him. As we were all wearied, we decided to do so. To save going around by the wagon road, he showed us a quicker way of descent. It was a sand bank not quite vertical, but as nearly so as ever any one drove down and lived to tell the tale. So, harnessing the animals, we brought the wagon to the edge of this sandy descent; then, tying all the wheels securely, so that they would drag, all of us holding on to the hind axle and with weights trailing behind, the whole