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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18538-8.txt b/18538-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd4e90b --- /dev/null +++ b/18538-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5275 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of I Married a Ranger, by Dama Margaret Smith + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: I Married a Ranger + +Author: Dama Margaret Smith + +Release Date: June 8, 2006 [EBook #18538] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I MARRIED A RANGER *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + I Married a Ranger + + _By Dama Margaret Smith_ + + (_Mrs. "White Mountain"_) + + + + + STANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS STANFORD UNIVERSITY, CALIFORNIA + LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS + STANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS STANFORD UNIVERSITY, CALIFORNIA + LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS + THE MARUZEN COMPANY TOKYO, OSAKA, KYOTO, SENDAI + THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 55 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK + + Copyright 1930 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior + University All Rights Reserved Published 1930 + + PRINTED AND BOUND IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY STANFORD UNIVERSITY + PRESS + + + + + _This book is lovingly dedicated + to + White Mountain Smith + who has made me glad + I married a Ranger_ + + + + +_FOREWORD_ + + +_I Married a Ranger_ is an intimate story of "pioneer" life in a +national park, told in an interesting, humorous way, that makes it most +delightful. + +To me it is more than a book; it is a personal justification. For back +in 1921, when the author came to my office in Washington and applied for +the clerical vacancy existing at the Grand Canyon, no woman had been +even considered for the position. The park was new, and neither time nor +funds had been available to install facilities that are a necessary part +of our park administrative and protective work. Especially was the Grand +Canyon lacking in living quarters. For that reason the local +superintendent, as well as Washington Office officials, were opposed to +sending any women clerks there. + +Nevertheless, after talking to the author, I decided to make an +exception in her case, so she became the first woman Government employee +at the Canyon. _I Married a Ranger_ proves that the decision was a happy +one. + +It is a pleasure to endorse Mrs. Smith's book, and at the same time to +pay a tribute of admiration to the women of the Service, both employees +and wives of employees, who carry on faithfully and courageously under +all circumstances. + + ARNO B. CAMMERER + _Associate Director,_ + National Park Service + + + + + TABLE OF CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. "_Out in Arizona, Where the Bad Men Are_" 1 + + II. "_This Ain't Washington!_" 11 + + III. "_I Do!_" 21 + + IV. _Celebrities and Squirrels_ 31 + + V. _Navajo Land_ 42 + + VI. "_They Killed Me_" 56 + + VII. _A Grand Canyon Christmas_ 67 + + VIII. _The Day's Work_ 77 + + IX. _The Doomed Tribe_ 89 + + X. _Where They Dance with Snakes_ 104 + + XI. _The Terrible Badger Fight_ 121 + + XII. _Grand Canyon Ups and Downs_ 131 + + XIII. _Sisters under the Skin_ 147 + + XIV. _The Passing Show_ 158 + + XV. _Fools, Flood, and Dynamite_ 170 + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter I: "OUT IN ARIZONA, WHERE THE BAD MEN ARE"_ + + +"So you think you'd like to work in the Park Office at Grand Canyon?" + +"Sure!" "Where is Grand Canyon?" I asked as an afterthought. + +I knew just that little about the most spectacular chasm in the world, +when I applied for an appointment there as a Government worker. + +Our train pulled into the rustic station in the wee small hours, and +soon I had my first glimpse of the Canyon. Bathed in cold moonlight, the +depths were filled with shadows that disappeared as the sun came up +while I still lingered, spellbound, on the Rim. + +On the long train journey I had read and re-read the _Grand Canyon +Information Booklet_, published by the National Park Service. I was +still unprepared for what lay before me in carrying out my rôle as field +clerk there. So very, very many pages of that booklet have never been +written--pages replete with dangers and hardships, loneliness and +privations, sacrifice and service, all sweetened with friendships not +found in heartless, hurrying cities, lightened with loyalty and love, +and tinted with glamour and romance. And over it all lies a fascination +a stranger without the gates can never share. + +I was the first woman ever placed in field service at the Grand Canyon, +and the Superintendent was not completely overjoyed at my arrival. To be +fair, I suppose he expected me to be a clinging-vine nuisance, although +I assured him I was well able to take care of myself. Time softens most +of life's harsh memories, and I've learned to see his side of the +question. What was he to do with a girl among scores of road builders +and rangers? When I tell part of my experiences with him, I do so only +because he has long been out of the Service and I can now see the +humorous aspect of our private feud. + +As the sun rose higher over the Canyon, I reluctantly turned away and +went to report my arrival to the Superintendent. He was a towering, +gloomy giant of a man, and I rather timidly presented my assignment. He +looked down from his superior height, eyed me severely, and spoke +gruffly. + +"I suppose you know you were thrust upon me!" + +"No. I'm very sorry," I said, quite meekly. + +While I was desperately wondering what to do or say next, a tall blond +man in Park uniform entered the office. + +The Superintendent looked quite relieved. + +"This is White Mountain, Chief Ranger here. I guess I'll turn you over +to him. Look after her, will you, Chief?" And he washed his hands of +me. + +In the Washington office I had often heard of "White Mountain" Smith. I +recalled him as the Government scout that had seen years of service in +Yellowstone before he became Chief Ranger at Grand Canyon. I looked him +over rather curiously and decided that I liked him very well. His keen +blue eyes were the friendliest I had seen since I left West Virginia. He +looked like a typical Western man, and I was surprised that his speech +had a "down East" tone. + +"Aren't you a Westerner?" + +"No, I'm a Connecticut Yankee," he smiled. "But we drift out here from +everywhere. I've been in the West many years." + +"Have you ever been in West Virginia?" I blurted. Homesickness had +settled all over me. + +He looked at me quickly, and I reckon he saw that tears were close to +the surface. + +"No-o, I haven't been there. But my father went down there during the +Civil War and helped clean up on the rebels!" + +Sparks flew then and I forgot to be homesick. But he laughed and led me +toward my new home. + +We strolled up a slight rise through wonderful pine trees, with here and +there a twisted juniper giving a grotesque touch to the landscape. The +ground was covered with springy pine needles, and squirrels and birds +were everywhere. We walked past rows and rows of white tents pitched in +orderly array among the pines, the canvas village of fifty or more road +builders. By and by we came to a drab gray shack, weather-beaten and +discouraged, hunched under the trees as if it were trying to blot +itself from the scene. I was passing on, when the Chief (White Mountain) +stopped me with a gesture. + +"This is your home," he said. Just that bald statement. I thought he was +joking, but he pushed the door open and we walked inside. The tiny shack +had evidently seen duty as a warehouse and hadn't been manicured since! +But in view of the fact that the Park Service was handicapped by lack of +funds, and in the throes of road building and general development, I was +lucky to draw a real house instead of a tent. I began to see why the +Superintendent had looked askance at me when I arrived. I put on my +rose-colored glasses and took stock of my abode. + +It was divided into two rooms, a kitchen and a combination +living-dining-sleeping-dressing-bath-room. The front door was a heavy +nailed-up affair that fastened with an iron hook and staple. The back +door sagged on its leather hinges and moved open or shut reluctantly. +Square holes were cut in the walls for windows, but these were innocent +of screen or glass. Cracks in the roof and walls let in an abundance of +Arizona atmosphere. The furniture consisted of a slab table that +extended all the way through the middle of the room, a wicker chair, and +a golden-oak dresser minus the mirror and lacking one drawer. + +White Mountain looked surprised and relieved, when I burst out laughing. +He didn't know how funny the financial inducements of my new job sounded +to me while I looked around that hovel: "So much per annum and furnished +quarters!" + +"We'll fix this up for you. We rangers didn't know until this morning +that you were coming," he said; and we went down to see if the cook was +in a good humor. I was to eat at the "Mess House" with the road crew and +rangers, provided the cook didn't mind having a woman around. I began to +have leanings toward "Equal-Rights-for-Women Clubs," but the cook was as +nice as could be. I fell in love with him instantly. Both he and his +kitchen were so clean and cheerful. His name was Jack. He greeted me as +man to man, with a hearty handclasp, and assured me he would look after +me. + +"But you'll have to eat what the men do. I ain't got time to fix fancies +for you," he hastened to add. + +A steel triangle hung on a tree near the cookhouse door, and when dinner +was ready Jack's helper struck it sharply with an iron bar. This made a +clatter that could be heard a mile and brought the men tumbling from +their tents to eat. As I was washing my hands and face in the kitchen I +heard Jack making a few remarks to his boarders: "Now don't any you +roughnecks forget there's a lady eatin' here from now on, and I'll be +damned if there's goin' to be any cussin', either." I don't believe they +needed any warning, for during the months I lived near their tents and +ate with them they never "forgot." + +Many of them no doubt had come from homes as good as mine, and more than +one had college degrees. As they became accustomed to having me around +they shed their reserve along with their coats and became just what they +really were, a bunch of grown-up boys in search of adventure. + +A week later it seemed perfectly natural to sit down to luncheon with +platters of steak, bowls of vegetables, mounds of potatoes, and pots of +steaming black coffee; but just then it was a radical change from my +usual glass of milk and thin sandwich lunch. The food was served on long +pine tables, flanked by backless benches. Blue and white enamel dishes, +steel knives and forks, and of course no napkins, made up the service. +We drank coffee from tin cups, cooling and diluting it with condensed +milk poured from the original can. I soon learned that "Shoot the cow!" +meant nothing more deadly than "Pass the milk, please!" + +The rangers ate at a table apart from the other men. The Chief sat at +the head of the table, and my plate was at his right. Several rangers +rose to greet me when I came in. + +"I'm glad you came," said one of them. "We are apt to grow careless +without someone to keep the rough edges polished for us." That was +Ranger Charley Fisk, the most loyal, faithful friend one could wish for. +He was never too tired nor too busy to add a shelf here or build a +cabinet there in my tiny cabin for me. But all that I had to learn +later. There was Frank, Ranger Winess; he and the Chief had been +together many years in Yellowstone; and Ranger West, and Ranger Peck. +These and several more were at the table. + +"Eat your dinner," the Chief advised, and I ate, from steak to pie. The +three meals there were breakfast, dinner, and supper. No lettuce-leaf +lunch for them. + +Dinner disposed of, I turned my attention to making my cabin fit to +live in. The cook had his flunky sweep and scrub the floor, and then, +with the aid of blankets, pictures, and draperies from my trunks, the +little place began to lose its forlorn look. White Mountain contributed +a fine pair of Pendleton blankets, gay and fleecy. He spread a Navajo +rug on the floor and placed an armful of books on the table. Ranger Fisk +threw the broken chair outside and brought me a chair he had made for +himself. Ranger Winess had been riding the drift fence while we worked, +but he appeared on the scene with a big cluster of red Indian paintbrush +blossoms he had found in a coulee. None of us asked if they were picked +inside the Park. + +No bed was available, and again Ranger Fisk came to the rescue. He lent +me his cot and another ranger contributed his mattress. + +White Mountain was called away, and when he returned he said that he had +hired a girl for the fire look-out tower, and suggested that I might +like to have her live there with me. "She's part Indian," he added. + +"Fine. I like Indians, and anyway these doors won't lock. I'm glad to +have her." So they found another cot and put it up in the kitchen for +her. + +She was a jolly, warm-hearted girl, used to life in such places. Her +husband was a forest ranger several miles away, and she spent most of +her time in the open. All day she stayed high in the fire tower, with +her glasses scanning the surrounding country. At the first sign of +smoke, she determined its exact location by means of a map and then +telephoned to Ranger Headquarters. Men were on their way immediately, +and many serious forest fires were thus nipped in the bud. + +She and I surveyed each other curiously. I waited for her to do the +talking. + +"You won't stay here long!" she said, and laughed when I asked her why. + +"This is a funny place to put you," she remarked next, after a glance +around our new domain. "I'd rather be out under a tree, wouldn't you?" + +"God forbid!" I answered earnestly. "I'm no back-to-nature fan, and this +is primitive a-plenty for me. There's no bathroom, and I can't even find +a place to wash my face. What shall we do?" + +We reconnoitered, and found the water supply. We coaxed a tin basin away +from the cook and were fully equipped as far as a bathroom was +concerned. + +Thea--for that was her Indian name--agreed that it might be well to +fasten our doors; so we dragged the decrepit dresser against the front +portal and moved a trunk across the back entrance. As there were no +shades at the windows, we undressed in the dark and retired. + +The wind moaned in the pines. A querulous coyote complained. Strange +noises were everywhere around us. Scampering sounds echoed back and +forth in the cabin. My cot was hard and springless as a rock, and when I +stretched into a more comfortable position the end bar fell off and the +whole structure collapsed, I with it. Modesty vetoed a light, since the +men were still passing our cabin on their way to the tents; so in utter +darkness I pulled the mattress under the table and there made myself as +comfortable as possible. Just as I was dozing, Thea came in from the +kitchen bringing her cot bumping and banging at her heels. She was +utterly unnerved by rats and mice racing over her. We draped petticoats +and other articles of feminine apparel over the windows and sat up the +rest of the night over the smoky lamp. Wrapped in our bright blankets it +would have been difficult to tell which of us was the Indian. + +"I'll get a cat tomorrow," I vowed. + +"You can't. Cats aren't allowed in the Park," she returned, dejectedly. + +"Well, then rats shouldn't be either," I snapped. "I can get some traps +I reckon. Or is trapping prohibited in this area?" + +Thea just sighed. + +Morning finally came, as mornings have a habit of doing, and found me +flinging things back in my trunk, while my companion eyed me +sardonic-wise. I had spent sufficient time in the great open spaces, and +just as soon as I could get some breakfast I was heading for Washington +again. But by the time I had tucked in a "feed" of fried potatoes, eggs, +hot cakes, and strong coffee, a lion couldn't have scared me away. +"Bring on your mice," was my battle cry. + +At breakfast Ranger Fisk asked me quite seriously if I would have some +cackle berries. I looked around, couldn't see any sort of fruit on the +table, and, remembering the cook's injunction to eat what he set before +me, I answered: "No, thank you; but I'll have an egg, please." After +the laughter had subsided, White Mountain explained that cackle berries +were eggs! + +I told the rangers about the mice in my house, and the cook overheard +the conversation. A little later a teamster appeared at my cabin with a +tiny gray kitten hidden under his coat. + +"Cook said you have mice, Miss. I've brought 'Tuffy' to you. Please keep +him hid from the rangers. He has lived in the barn with me up to now." + +With such a loyal protector things took a turn for the better, and my +Indian friend, my wee gray cat, and myself dwelt happily in our little +Grayhaven. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter II: "THIS AIN'T WASHINGTON!"_ + + +"This ain't Washington, and we don't keep bankers' hours here," was the +slogan of the Superintendent. He spoke that phrase, chanted it, and sang +it. He made a litany of it; he turned it into a National Anthem. It came +with such irritating regularity I could have sworn he timed it on a +knotted string, sort of "Day-by-day-in-every-way" tempo, one might say. +And it wasn't Washington, and we didn't live lives of ease; no banker +ever toiled from dawn until all hours of the night, Sunday included! + +I made pothooks and translated them. I put figures down and added them +up. For the road crew I checked in equipment and for the cook I chucked +out rotten beef. The Superintendent had boasted that three weeks of the +program he had laid out for me would be plenty to send me back where I +came from and then he would have a regular place again. But I really +didn't mind the work. I was learning to love the Arizona climate and the +high thin air that kept one's spirits buoyed up in spite of little +irritations. I was not lonely, for I had found many friends. + +When I had been at the Canyon a few days the young people gave a party +for me. It was my début, so to speak. The world-famous stone building at +Hermit's Rest was turned over to us for the evening by the Fred Harvey +people, and, attended by the entire ranger force, I drove out the nine +miles from Headquarters. We found the house crowded with guides, +cowboys, stage-drivers, and their girls. Most of the girls were Fred +Harvey waitresses, and if you think there is any discredit attached to +that job you had better change your mind. The girls there were +bookkeepers, teachers, college girls, and stenographers. They see the +world and get well paid while doing it. + +The big rendezvous at Hermit's Rest resembles an enormous cavern. The +fireplace is among the largest anywhere in the world, and the cave +impression is further carried out by having flat stones laid for the +floor, and rock benches covered with bearskins and Navajo rugs. Many +distinguished guests from all parts of the globe have been entertained +in that room, but we forgot all about distinguished personages and had a +real old-fashioned party. We played cards and danced, and roasted +weenies and marshmallows. After that party I felt that I belonged there +at the Canyon and had neighbors. + +There were others, however. The Social Leader, for instance. She tried +to turn our little democracy into a monarchy, with herself the +sovereign. She was very near-sighted, and it was a mystery how she +managed to know all about everything until we discovered she kept a pair +of powerful field-glasses trained on the scene most of the time. The +poor lady had a mania for selling discarded clothing at top prices. We +used to ask each other when we met at supper, "Did you buy anything +today?" I refused point-blank to buy her wreckage, but the rangers were +at a disadvantage. They wanted to be gentlemen and not hurt her +feelings! Now and then one would get cornered and stuck with a +second-hand offering before he could make his getaway. Then how the +others would rag him! One ranger, with tiny feet, of which he was +inordinately proud, was forced to buy a pair of No. 12 shoes because +they pinched the Social Leader's Husband's feet. He brought them to me. + +"My Gawd! What'll I do with these here box cars? They cost me six bucks +and I'm ruined if the boys find out about it." + +An Indian squaw was peddling baskets at my house, and we traded the +shoes to her for two baskets. I kept one and he the other. Not long +after that he was burned to death in a forest fire, and when I packed +his belongings to send to his mother the little basket was among his +keepsakes. + +There was a Bridge Fiend in our midst, too! She weighed something like +twenty stone, slept all forenoon, played bridge and ate chocolates all +afternoon, and talked constantly of reducing. One day she went for a +ride on a flop-eared mule; he got tired and lay down and rolled over and +over in the sand. They had some trouble rescuing her before she got +smashed. I told her the mule believed in rolling to help reduce. She +didn't see the joke, but the mule and I did. Grand Canyon life was too +exciting for her, so she left us. + +A quaint little person was the rancher's wife who brought fresh eggs and +vegetables to us. She wore scant pajamas instead of skirts, because she +thought it "more genteel," she explained. When a favorite horse or cow +died, she carefully preserved the skull and other portions of the +skeleton for interior-decoration purposes. + +Ranger Fisk and I took refuge in her parlor one day from a heavy rain. +Her husband sat there like a graven image. He was never known to say +more than a dozen words a day, but she carried on for the entire family. +As Ranger Fisk said, "She turns her voice on and then goes away and +forgets it's running." She told us all about the last moments of her +skeletons before they were such, until it ceased to be funny. Ranger +Fisk sought to change the conversation by asking her how long she had +been married. + +"Ten years; but it seems like fifty," she said. We braved the rain after +that. + +Ranger Fisk was born in Sweden. He ran away from home at fourteen and +joined the Merchant Marine, and in that service poked into most of the +queer seaports on the map. He had long since lost track of his kinsfolk, +and although he insisted that he was anxious to marry he carefully kept +away from all marriageable ladies. + +Ranger Winess was the sheik of the force. Every good-looking girl that +came his way was rushed for a day and forgotten as soon as another +arrived. He played his big guitar, and sang and danced, and made love, +all with equal skill and lightness. The only love he was really constant +to was Tony, his big bay horse. + +Ranger West, Assistant Chief Ranger, was the most like a storybook +ranger of them all. He was essentially an outdoor man, without any +parlor tricks. I have heard old-timers say he was the best man with +horses they had ever known. He was much more interested in horses and +tobacco than he was in women and small talk. But if there was a +particularly dangerous task or one requiring sound judgment and a clear +head, Ranger West was selected. + +He and Ranger Fisk and Ranger Winess were known as the "Three +Musketeers." They were the backbone of the force. + +Sometimes I think my very nicest neighbor was the gardener at El Tovar +Hotel. He saw me hungrily eying his flowers, and gave me a generous +portion of plants and showed me how to care for them. I planted them +alongside my little gray house, and after each basin of water had seen +duty for cleansing purposes it went to water the flowers. We never +wasted a drop of water. It was hauled a hundred miles in tank cars, and +cost accordingly. I sometimes wondered if we paid extra for the red bugs +that swam around in it so gaily. Anyway, my flowers didn't mind the +bugs. They grew into masses of beautiful foliage and brilliant blossoms. +I knew every leaf and bud on them. I almost sat up nights with them, I +was so proud of their beauty. My flowers and my little gray kitten were +all the company I had now. The fire guard girl had gone home. + +One of my neighbors asked me to go with a group of Fred Harvey girls to +visit the Petrified Forest, lying more than a hundred miles southeast +of the Canyon. As I had been working exceptionally hard in the Park +Office, I declared myself a holiday, and Sunday morning early found us +well on the way. + +We drove through ordinary desert country to Williams and from there on +past Flagstaff and eastward to Holbrook. Eighteen miles from there we +began to see fallen logs turned into stone. + +My ideas of the Petrified Forest were very vague, but I had expected to +see standing trees turned to stone. These big logs were all lying down, +and I couldn't find a single stump! We drove through several miles of +fallen logs and came to the Government Museum where unique and choice +specimens had been gathered together for visitors to see. It is hard to +describe this wood, that isn't wood. It looks like wood, at least the +grain and the shape, and knotholes and even wormholes are there; but it +has turned to beautifully brilliant rock. Some pieces look like +priceless Italian marble; others are all colors of the rainbow, blended +together into a perfect poem of shades. + +Of course I asked for an explanation, and with all the technical terms +left out, this is about what I learned: "These trees are probably forty +million years old! None of them grew here. This is proved in several +ways: there are few roots or branches and little bark." + +The ranger saw me touch the outside of a log that was covered with what +looked to me like perfectly good bark! He smiled. + +"Yes, I know that looks like bark, but it is merely an outside crust of +melted sand, et cetera, that formed on the logs as they rolled around in +the water." + +"Water?" I certainly hadn't seen any water around the Petrified Forest. + +"Yes, water. This country, at one time, was an arm of the Pacific Ocean, +and was drained by some disturbance which brought the Sierra Mountains +to the surface. These logs grew probably a thousand miles north of here +and were brought here in a great flood. They floated around for +centuries perhaps, and were thoroughly impregnated with the mineral +water, doubtless hot water. When the drainage took place, they were +covered by silt and sand to a depth of perhaps two thousand feet. Here +the petrifaction took place. Silica was present in great quantities. +Manganese and iron provided the coloring matter, and through pressure +these chemicals were forced into the grain of the wood, which gradually +was absorbed and its cell structure replaced by ninety-nine per cent +silica and the other per cent iron and manganese. Erosion brought what +we see to the top. We have reason to believe that the earth around here +covers many thousand more." + +After that all soaked in I asked him what the beautiful crystals in +purple and amber were. These are really amethysts and topazes found in +the center of the logs. Formed probably by resin in the wood, these +jewels are next hardest to diamonds and have been much prized. One +famous jeweler even had numberless logs blown to splinters with +explosives in order to secure the gems. + +The wood is very little softer than diamond, and polishes beautifully +for jewelry, book-ends, and table tops. The ranger warned us against +taking any samples from the Reserve. + +We could have spent days wandering around among the fallen giants, each +one disclosing new beauties in color and formation; but we finally left, +reluctantly, each determined to come back again. + +It was quite dark when we reached the Canyon, and I was glad to creep +into bed. My kitten snuggled down close to the pillow and sang sleepy +songs, but I couldn't seem to get to sleep. Only cheesecloth nailed over +the windows stood between me and all sorts of animals I imagined prowled +the surrounding forest. The cheesecloth couldn't keep the noises out, +and the cry that I heard might just as well have been the killing scream +of a cougar as a bed-time story of a tree frog. It made my heart beat +just as fast. And although the rangers declared I never heard more than +one coyote at a time, I knew that at least twenty howling voices swelled +the chorus. + +While I was trying to persuade myself that the noise I heard was just a +pack rat, a puffing, blowing sound at the window took me tremblingly out +to investigate. I knew some ferocious animal was about to devour me! But +my precious flowers were the attraction. A great, gaunt cow had taken +the last delectable bite from my pansy bed and was sticking out a greedy +tongue to lap in the snapdragons. Throwing on my bathrobe, I grabbed the +broom and attacked the invader. I whacked it fore and aft! I played a +tune on its lank ribs! Taken completely by surprise, it hightailed +clumsily up through the pines, with me and my trusty broom lending +encouragement. When morning came, showing the havoc wrought on my +despoiled posies, I was ready to weep. + +Ranger Winess joined me on my way to breakfast. + +"Don't get far from Headquarters today," he said. "Dollar Mark Bull is +in here and he is a killer. I've been out on Tony after him, but he +charged us and Tony bolted before I could shoot. When I got Tony down to +brass tacks, Dollar Mark was hid." + +I felt my knees knocking together. + +"What's he look like?" I inquired, weakly. + +"Big red fellow, with wide horns and white face. Branded with a Dollar +Mark. He's at least twenty years old, and mean!" + +My midnight visitor! + +I sat down suddenly on a lumber pile. It was handy to have a lumber +pile, for I felt limp all over. I told the ranger about chasing the old +beast around with a broom. His eyes bulged out on stems. + +Frequent appearances of "Dollar Mark" kept me from my daily tramps +through the pines, and I spent more time on the Rim of the Canyon. + +Strangely, the great yawning chasm itself held no fascination for me. I +could appreciate its dizzy depths, its vastness, its marvelous color +effects, and its weird contours. I could feel the immensity of it, and +it repelled instead of attracted. I seemed to see its barrenness and +desolation, the cruel deception of its poisonous springs, and its +insurmountable walls. I could visualize its hapless victims wandering +frantically about, trying to find the way out of some blind coulee, +until, exhausted and thirst-crazed, they lay down to die under the +sun's pitiless glare. Many skeletons, half buried in sand, have been +found to tell of such tragedies. + +It was only in the evenings, after the sun had gone down, that I could +feel at ease with the Canyon. Then I loved to sit on the Rim and look +down on the one living spot far below, where, almost a century ago, the +Indians made their homes and raised their crops, watering the fields +from the clear, cold spring that gushes out of the hillside. As the +light faded, the soft mellow moon would swim into view, shrouding with +tender light the stark, grim boulders. From the plateau, lost in the +shadows, the harsh bray of wild burros, softened by distance, floated +upward. + +On a clear day I could see objects on the North Rim, thirteen miles +away, and with a pair of strong field glasses I could bring the scene +quite close. It looked like a fairyland over there, and I wanted to +cross over and see what it was really like. White Mountain advanced the +theory that if we were married we could go over there for our honeymoon! +I had to give the matter careful consideration; but while I considered, +the moon came up, and behind us in the Music Room someone began to play +softly Schubert's "Serenade." I said, "All right. Next year we'll go!" + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter III: "I DO!"_ + + +The Washington Office decided, by this time, that I was really going to +stay, so they sent another girl out to work with me. The poor +Superintendent was speechless! But his agony was short-lived. Another +superintendent was sent to relieve him, which was also a relief to me! + +My new girl was from Alabama and had never been west of that state. She +was more of a tenderfoot than I, if possible. At first she insisted one +had to have a bathtub or else be just "pore white trash," but in time +she learned to bathe quite luxuriously in a three-pint basin. It took +longer for her to master the art of lighting a kerosene lamp, and it was +quite a while before she was expert enough to dodge the splinters in the +rough pine floor. I felt like a seasoned sourdough beside her! + +We "ditched" the big cookstove, made the back room into sleeping +quarters, and turned our front room into a sort of clubhouse. White +Mountain gave us a wonderful phonograph and plenty of records. If one is +inclined to belittle canned music, it is a good plan to live for a +while where the only melody one hears is a wailing coyote or the wind +moaning among the pines. + +We kept getting new records. The rangers dropped in every evening with +offerings. Ranger Winess brought us love songs. He doted on John +McCormack's ballads, and I secretly applauded his choice. Of course I +had to praise the Harry Lauder selections that Ranger Fisk toted in. +White Mountain favored Elman and Kreisler. The violin held him +spellbound. But when Pat came we all suffered through an evening of +Grand Opera spelled with capital letters! + +Nobody knew much about "Pat." He was a gentleman without doubt. He was +educated and cultured, he was witty and traveled. His game of bridge was +faultless and his discussion of art or music authentic. He was ready to +discuss anything and everything, except himself. + +In making up personnel records I asked him to fill out a blank. He gave +his name and age. "Education" was followed by "A.B." and "M.A." Nearest +relative: "None." In case of injury or death notify--"_Nobody._" That +was all. Somewhere he had a family that stood for something in the +world, but where? He was a striking person, with his snow-white hair, +bright blue eyes, and erect, soldier-like bearing. White Mountain and +Ranger Winess had known him in Yellowstone; Ranger Fisk had seen him in +Rainier; Ranger West had met him at Glacier. He taught me the game of +cribbage, and the old game of gold-rush days--solo. + +One morning Pat came to my cabin and handed me a book. Without speaking +he turned and walked away. Inside the volume I found a note: "I am +going away. This is my favorite book. I want you to have it and keep +it." The title of the book was _Story of an African Farm_. None of us +ever saw Pat again. + +The yearly rains began to come daily, each with more force and water +than the preceding one. Lightning flashed like bombs exploding, and +thunder roared and reverberated back and forth from Rim to Rim of the +Canyon. We sank above our shoes in mud every time we left the cabin. The +days were disagreeable, but the evenings were spent in the cabin, Ranger +Winess with his guitar and the other boys singing while we girls made +fudge or sea-foam. Such quantities of candy as that bunch could consume! +The sugar was paid for from the proceeds of a Put-and-Take game that +kept us entertained. + +We had a girl friend, Virginia, from Washington as a guest, and she fell +in love with Arizona. Also with Ranger Winess. It was about arranged +that she would remain permanently, but one unlucky day he took her down +Bright Angel Trail. He provided her with a tall lank mule, "By Gosh," to +ride, and she had never been aboard an animal before. Every time By Gosh +flopped an ear she thought he was trying to slap her in the face. On a +steep part of the trail a hornet stung the mule, and he began to buck +and kick. + +I asked Virginia what she did then. + +"I didn't do anything. By Gosh was doing enough for both of us," she +said. Ranger Winess said, however, that she turned her mule's head in +toward the bank and whacked him with the stick she carried. Which was +the logical thing to do. Unfortunately Ranger Winess teased her a +little about the incident, and a slight coolness arose. Just to show how +little she cared for his company, Virginia left our party and strolled +up to the Rim to observe the effect of moonlight on the mist that filled +it. + +Our game of Put-and-Take was running along merrily when we heard a +shriek, then another. We rushed out, and there was Dollar Mark Bull +chasing Virginia around and around among the big pine trees while she +yelled like a calliope. Seeing the door open she knocked a few of us +over in her hurry to get inside. Then she bravely slammed the door and +stood against it! Fortunately, Dollar Mark retreated and no lives were +lost. + +The rangers departed, we soothed Virginia, now determined not to remain +permanently, and settled down for the night. Everything quiet and +peaceful, thank goodness! + +Alas! The most piercing shrieks I ever heard brought me upright in bed +with every hair standing on end. It was morning. I looked at Virginia's +bed. I could see her quite distinctly, parts of her at least. Her head +was buried, ostrich-wise, in the blankets, while her feet beat a wild +tattoo in the air. Stell woke up and joined the chorus. The cause of it +all was a bewildered Navajo buck who stood mutely in the doorway, +staring at the havoc he had created. At arm's length he tendered a pair +of moccasins for sale. It was the first Reservation Indian in native +dress, or rather undress, the girls had seen, and they truly expected to +be scalped. + +It never occurs to an Indian to knock at a door, nor does the question +of propriety enter into his calculations when he has an object in view. + +I told him to leave, and he went out. An hour later, however, when we +went to breakfast, he was squatted outside my door waiting for us to +appear. He had silver bracelets and rings beaten out of Mexican coins +and studded with native turquoise and desert rubies. We each bought +something. I bought because I liked his wares, and the other girls +purchased as a sort of thank-offering for mercies received. + +The bracelets were set with the brilliant rubies found by the Indians in +the desert. It is said that ants excavating far beneath the surface +bring these semi-precious stones to the top. Others contend that they +are not found underneath the ground but are brought by the ants from +somewhere near the nest because their glitter attracts the ant. True or +false, the story results in every anthill being carefully searched. + +Virginia's visit was drawing to a close, and White Mountain and I +decided to announce our engagement while she was still with us. We gave +a dinner at El Tovar, with the rangers and our closest friends present. +At the same party another ranger announced his engagement and so the +dinner was a hilarious affair. + +One of the oldest rangers there, and one notoriously shy with women, +made me the object of a general laugh. He raised his glass solemnly and +said: "Well, here's wishin' you joy, but I jest want to say this: ef +you'd a played yo' cyards a little bit different, you wouldn't 'a had to +take White Mountain." + +Before the dinner was over a call came from the public camp ground for +aid. Our party broke up, and we girls went to the assistance of a +fourteen-year-old mother whose baby was ill. Bad food and ignorance had +been too much for the little nameless fellow, and he died about +midnight. There was a terrible electric storm raging, and rain poured +down through the old tent where the baby died. + +Ranger Winess carried the little body down to our house and we took the +mother and followed. We put him in a dresser drawer and set to work to +make clothes to bury him in. Ranger Fisk and Ranger Winess made the tiny +casket, and we rummaged through our trunks for materials. A sheer dimity +frock of mine that had figured in happier scenes made the shroud, and +Virginia gave a silken scarf to line the coffin. Ranger Winess tacked +muslin over the rough boards so it would look nicer to the young mother. +There were enough of my flowers left by Dollar Mark to make a wreath, +and that afternoon a piteous procession wended its way to the cemetery. +And such a cemetery! Near the edge of the Canyon, a mile or so from +Headquarters it lay, a bleak neglected spot in a sagebrush flat with +nothing to mark the cattle-tramped graves, of which there were four. At +the edge of the clearing, under a little pine, was the open grave, and +while the coffin was lowered the men sang. I never heard a more lonesome +sound than those men singing there over that little grave. White +Mountain read the burial service. + +We took the mother back to our cabin while the grave was being filled +in. I used to see her walking out there each morning with a few wild +flowers to put on the mound. Ranger Winess managed to ride that way and +keep her in sight until she returned to the camp ground. While the blue +lupine blossomed she kept the mound covered with the fragrant flowers. + +Ranger Fisk had a vacation about this time, and he insisted White +Mountain and I should get married while he could act as best man. So we +journeyed to Flagstaff with him and were married. It seemed more like a +wedding in a play than anything else. Ranger Fisk was burdened with the +responsibility of the wedding-ring, license, minister's fee, and flowers +for the occasion. He herded us into the clerk's office to secure the +necessary papers, and the girl clerk that issued them was a stickler for +form. We gave our names, our parents' names, our ages, birth-places, and +previous states of servitude. I was getting ready to show her my +vaccination scar, when she turned coldly critical eyes on me and asked: +"Are you white?" This for a Virginian to answer was quite a blow. + +We went to the minister's house, and since two witnesses were necessary, +the wife was called in from her washing. She came into the parlor drying +her hands on her apron, which she discarded by rolling up and tossing +into a chair. Ranger Fisk produced the ring, with a flourish, at the +proper moment, gave the minister his money, after all the "I do's" had +been said, and the wedding was over. So we were married. No wedding +march, no flower girls, no veil, no rice, no wedding breakfast. Just a +solemn promise to respect each other and be faithful. Perhaps the +promise meant just a little more to us because it was not smothered in +pomp. + +For a wedding-trip we visited the cliff dwellings in Walnut Canyon. +Here, hundreds of years ago, other newly married couples had set up +housekeeping and built their dreams into the walls that still tell the +world that we are but newcomers on this hemisphere. + +The news of our marriage reached the Canyon ahead of us, and we found +our little cabin filled with our friends and their gifts. They spent a +merry evening with us and as we bade them goodnight we felt that such +friendship was beyond price indeed. + +But after midnight! The great open spaces were literally filled with a +most terrifying and ungodly racket. I heard shrieks and shots, and tin +pans banging. Horrors! The cook was on another vanilla-extract +jamboree!! But--drums boomed and bugles blared. Ah, of course! The +Indians were on the warpath; I never entirely trusted those red devils. +I looked around for a means of defense, but the Chief told me not to be +alarmed--it was merely a "shivaree." + +"Now, what might that be?" I inquired. I supposed he meant at least a +banshee, or at the very least an Irish wake! It was, however, nothing +more or less than our friends serenading us. They came inside, thirty +strong; the walls of the cabin fairly bulged. They played all sorts of +tricks on us, and just as they left someone dropped a handful of sulphur +on top of the stove. Naturally, we went outside with our visitors to +wish them "godspeed!" + +"I'll never get married again; at least not in the land of the +shivaree," I told White Mountain as we tried to repair the damage. + +I guess we were let off easy, for when our ranger friend returned with +his bride they suffered a much worse fate. The groom was locked for +hours in the old bear cage on the Rim, and his wife was loaded into a +wheelbarrow and rolled back and forth across the railroad tracks until +the Chief called a halt to that. He felt the treatment was a little too +severe even for people in love. + +Since I could not go to live in the bachelor ranger quarters, White +Mountain moved into my cabin until our house could be completed. A tent +house was built for Stell in the back yard of our cabin. She was afraid +to live alone, and used to wake us at all hours of the night. Once she +came bursting into our cabin, hysterical with fright. A bunch of coyotes +had been racing around and around her tent trying to get into the +garbage can. They yelped and barked, and, finally, as she sobbed and +tried to explain, "They sat down in my door and laughed like crazy +people." She finished the night on our spare cot, for anybody that +thinks coyotes can't act like demons had better spend a night in Arizona +and listen to them perform. + +Stell wasn't a coward by any means. She was right there when real +courage was needed. A broken leg to set or a corpse to bathe and dress +were just chores that needed to be done, and she did her share of both. +But seven thousand feet altitude for months at a time will draw a +woman's nerves tauter than violin strings. I remember, one morning, +Stell and I came home in the dawn after an all-night vigil with a dying +woman. We were both nearly asleep as we stumbled along through the +pines, but not too far gone to see Dollar Mark come charging at us. We +had stopped at the cookhouse and begged a pot of hot coffee to take to +our cabins. Stell was carrying it, and she stood her ground until the +mean old bull was within a few feet of her. Then she dashed the +boiling-hot coffee full in his gleaming red eyes, and while he snorted +and bellowed with pain we shinnied up a juniper tree and hung there like +some of our ancestors until the road crew came along and drove him away. +We were pretty mad, and made a few sarcastic remarks about a ranger +force that couldn't even "shoot the bull." We requested the loan of a +gun, if necessary! Ranger Winess took our conversation to heart, and +next morning hung a notice in Headquarters which "Regretted to report +that Dollar Mark Bull accidentally fell over the Rim into the Canyon and +was killed." In my heart I questioned both the "regret" and the +"accidental" part of the report, and in order to still any remorse that +the ranger might feel I baked him the best lemon pie I had in my +repertoire! + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter IV: CELEBRITIES AND SQUIRRELS_ + + +Soon after our wedding the Chief crossed to the North Rim to meet a +party of celebrities, which included his old friend Emerson Hough. This +was to have been our honeymoon trip, but I was left at home! The new +Superintendent needed me in the office; therefore White Mountain spent +our honeymoon trip alone. I had heard of such a thing, but never +expected it to happen to me. I might have felt terribly cut up about it +but on the South Rim we were fermenting with excitement getting ready to +entertain important guests. + +General Diaz of Italy and his staff were coming, soon to be followed by +Marshal Foch with his retinue. And in the meantime Tom Mix and Eva Novak +had arrived with beautiful horses and swaggering cowboys to make a +picture in the Canyon. What was a mere honeymoon compared to such +luminaries? + +Tom and Eva spent three weeks making the picture, and we enjoyed every +minute they were there. Ranger Winess was assigned to duty with them, +and when they left the Canyon he found himself with the offer of a +movie contract. Tom liked the way the ranger handled his horse and his +rifle, and Tom's wife liked the sound of his guitar. So we lost Ranger +Winess. He went away to Hollywood, and we all went around practicing: +"I-knew-him-when" phrases. But Hollywood wasn't Grand Canyon, and there +wasn't a horse there, not even Tom's celebrated Tony, that had half as +much brains as his own bay Tony of the ranger horses. So Winess came +back to us, and everybody was happy again. + +While the picture was being made, some of the company found a burro +mother with a broken leg, and Ranger Winess mercifully ended her +suffering. A tiny baby burro playing around the mother they took to camp +and adopted at once. He was so comical with his big velvet ears and wise +expression. Not bigger than a shepherd dog, the men could pick him up +and carry him around the place. Tom took him to Mixville and the movie +people taught him to drink out of a bottle, so he is well on the road to +stardom. Ranger Winess, visiting in New Jersey a couple of years later, +dropped into a theater where Tom Mix was in a vaudeville act. Mix spied +the ranger, and when the act was over he stepped to the edge of the +stage and sang out: "Hey, Winess, I still got that burro!" + +A dummy that had been used in the picture was left lying quite a +distance up the side of a mountain, but quite visible from their movie +camp. Tom bet his Director, Lynn Reynolds, twenty-five dollars that the +dummy was six feet tall. He knew quite well that it was _not_ six feet +tall, and knew that Reynolds knew so too. But the bet was on. A guide +going to the top, was bribed by a ten-dollar bill from Tom, to stretch +the dummy out to the required length. This guide went up the trail a few +hours before Tom and Reynolds were due to measure the dummy. Imagine +their feelings when they arrived, and found the money and this note +pinned to the object of dispute: + + + "Mr. Tom Mix, deer sir. I streetched the dam thing till it busted. + It hain't no higher than me, and I hain't six feet. You'll plees + find herein yore money. + + Youers truly, + SHORTY." + + +It is said that Reynolds collected in full and then hunted Shorty up and +bestowed the twenty-five dollars on him. + +White Mountain returned from the North Rim full of his trip. He, +together with Director Mather and Emerson Hough, had been all through +the wonderful Southern Utah country, including Bryce Canyon and Zion +National Park. Mr. Hough had just sold his masterpiece, _The Covered +Wagon_, to the _Saturday Evening Post_, and was planning to write a +Canyon story. He told White Mountain he felt that he was not big enough +to write such a story but intended to try. His title was to be "The +Scornful Valley." Before he could come to the Canyon again, he died on +the operating table. + +Preparations were made for the visit of General Diaz, who came about +Thanksgiving time. A great deal of pomp and glory surrounded his every +movement. He and White Mountain were alone for a moment on one of the +points overlooking the Canyon, and the General, looking intently into +the big gorge, said to the Chief: "When I was a small boy I read a book +about some people that stole some cattle and hid away in the Canyon. I +wonder if it could have been near here?" White Mountain was able to +point out a place in the distance that had been a crossing place for +cattle in the early days, which pleased the soldier greatly. + +Hopi Joe and his Indian dancers gave an unusually fine exhibition of +their tribal dances for the visitors. The General expressed his +appreciation quite warmly to Joe after the dance ended, and asked Joe to +pose with him for a picture. He was recalling other boyhood reading he +had done, and his interest in the Indians was quite naïve. Joe took him +into the Hopi House and they spent an hour or so going over the +exhibition of Indian trophies there. + +After dinner, the General retired to his private car to rest, but the +staff remained at the hotel and we danced until well after midnight. The +General's own band furnished the music. There were no women in the +visitor's party, but there was no lack of partners for the handsome, +charming officers. That few of them spoke English and none of us +understood Italian made no difference. Smiles and flirtatious glances +speak a universal language, and many a wife kept her wedding-ring out of +the lime-light. + +While we all enjoyed the visit of this famous man, we took a personal +interest in Marshal Foch. And I'm not sure that General Diaz would have +been entirely pleased could he have seen the extra special arrangements +that were made to welcome Marshal Foch a few days later. Every ranger +was called in from outlying posts; uniforms were pressed, boots shined, +and horses groomed beyond recognition. Some of the rangers had served in +France, and one tall lanky son of Tennessee had won the Croix de Guerre. +To his great disgust and embarrassment, he was ordered to wear this +decoration. When the special train rolled in, the rangers were lined up +beside the track. The gallant old warrior stepped down from his car and +walked along the line. His eye rested on that medal. He rushed up and +fingered it lovingly "Croix de Guerre! Oui, oui, Croix de Guerre!" he +kept repeating, as delighted as a child would be at the sight of a +beloved toy. The ranger's face was a study. I believe he expected to be +kissed on both cheeks, as he probably had been when the medal was +originally bestowed upon him. + +White Mountain was presented to the Marshal as "Le Chieftain de le +Rangeurs," and, as he said later, had a handshake and listened to a few +words in French from the greatest general in history! + +The Marshal was the least imposing member of his staff. Small, +unassuming, and even frail, he gave the impression of being infinitely +weary of the world and its fighting, its falseness, and its empty pomp. +He spoke practically no English, but when a tiny Indian maid crept near +in her quaint velvet jacket and little full skirts, he extended a hand +and said quite brokenly: "How are you, Little One?" In fact he spoke +very little even in his own language. + +Several hours were consumed in viewing the Canyon and at lunch. Then he +was taken out to Hermit's Rest and sat in front of the great fireplace +for an hour, just resting and gazing silently into the glowing embers. +All the while he stroked the big yellow cat that had come and jumped +upon his knee as soon as he was settled. Then he walked down the trail a +little way, refusing to ride the mule provided for him. When it was +explained that his photograph on the mule was desired, he gravely bowed +and climbed aboard the animal. + +Our new Superintendent, Colonel John R. White, had been in France and +spoke French fluently. He hung breathlessly on the words of the Marshal +when he turned to him after a long scrutiny of the depths below. "Now," +thought Colonel White, "I shall hear something worthy of passing along +to my children and grandchildren." + +"What a beautiful place to drop one's mother-in-law!" observed the +Marshal in French. Later he remarked that the Canyon would make a +wonderful border line between Germany and France! + +Hopi Joe gave his tribal dances around a fire built in the plaza. After +the dance was over, the Marshal asked for an encore on the War Dance. +Joe gave a very realistic performance that time. Once he came quite near +the foreign warrior, brandishing his tomahawk and chanting. A pompous +newspaper man decided to be a hero and pushed in between Joe and Marshal +Foch. The General gave the self-appointed protector one look, and he was +edged outside the circle and told to stay there, while Joe went on with +his dance. + +A marvelous Navajo rug was presented to the visitor by Father Vabre, +with the information that it was a gift from the Indians to their friend +from over the sea. He was reminded that when the call came for +volunteers many thousands of Arizona Indians left their desert home and +went across the sea to fight for a government that had never recognized +them as worthy to be its citizens. + +The General's face lighted up as he accepted the gift, and he replied +that he would carry the rug with him and lay it before his own +hearthstone, and that he would tell his children its story so that after +he had gone on they would cherish it as he had and never part with it. +One likes to think that perhaps during his last days on earth his eyes +fell on this bright rug, reminding him that in faraway Arizona his +friends were thinking of him and hoping for his recovery. + +A wildcat presented by an admirer was voted too energetic a gift to +struggle with, so it was left in the bear cage on the Rim. Somebody +turned it out and it committed suicide by leaping into the Canyon. + +A raw cold wind, such as can blow only at the Canyon, swept around the +train as it carried Marshal Foch away. That wind brought tragedy and +sorrow to us there at El Tovar, for, exposed to its cold blast, Mr. +Brant, the hotel manager, contracted pneumonia. Travelers from all parts +of the world knew and loved this genial and kindly gentleman. He had +welcomed guests to El Tovar from the day its portals were first opened +to tourists. Marshal Foch was the last guest he welcomed or waved to in +farewell, for when the next day dawned he was fighting for life and in a +few days he was gone. + +He had loved the Canyon with almost a fanatic's devotion, and although +Captain Hance had not been buried on its Rim as had been his deep +desire, Mr. Brant's grave was located not far from the El Tovar, +overlooking the Great Chasm. The tomb had to be blasted from solid rock. +All night long the dull rumble of explosives told me that the rangers, +led by the wearer of the Croix de Guerre, were toiling away. The first +snow of the season was falling when the funeral cortège started for the +grave. White Mountain and other friends were pall-bearers, and twenty +cowboys on black horses followed the casket. Father Vabre read the +burial service, and George Wharton James spoke briefly of the friendship +which had bound them together for many years. Since that time both the +good priest and the famous author have passed on. + +Mr. Brant had an Airedale dog that was his constant companion. For days +after his death this dog would get his master's hat and stick and search +all over the hotel for him. He thought it was time for their daily walk. +When the dog died they buried him near his master's grave. This had been +Mr. Brant's request. + +The snow grew deeper and the mercury continued to go down, until it was +almost impossible to spend much time outside. But the little iron stove +stuffed full of pine wood kept the cabin fairly warm, and the birds and +squirrels learned to stay close to the stovepipe on the roof. + +The squirrels would come to the cabin windows and pat against them with +their tiny paws. They were begging for something to eat, and if a door +or window were left open a minute it was good-by to anything found on +the table. Bread, cake, or even fruit was a temptation not to be +resisted. One would grab the prize and dart up the trunk of a big pine +tree with the whole tribe hot-footing it right after him. One bold +fellow waylaid me one morning when I opened the door, and bounced up on +the step and into the kitchen. I shoved him off the cabinet, and he +jumped on top of the stove. That wasn't hot enough to burn him but +enough to make him good and mad, so he scrambled to my shoulder, ran +down my arm, and sank his teeth in my hand. Then he ran up to the top of +the shelves and sat there chattering and scolding until the Chief came +home and gave him the bum's rush. This same fellow bit the Chief, too; +but I always felt _he_ had it coming to him. White Mountain had a glass +jar of piñon nuts, and he would hold them while the squirrels came and +packed their jaws full. They looked too comical with their faces puffed +up like little boys with mumps. When "Bunty" came for his share, the +Chief placed his hand tightly over the top, just to tease him. He wanted +to see what would happen. He found out. Bunty ran his paws over the +slick surface of the jar two or three times, but couldn't find any way +to reach the tempting nuts. He stopped and thought about the situation a +while, then it seemed to dawn on him that he was the victim of a +practical joke. All at once he jumped on the Chief's hand, buried his +teeth in his thumb, then hopped to a lumber pile and waited for +developments. He got the nuts, jar and all, right at his head. He +side-stepped the assault and gloated over his store of piñons the rest +of the afternoon. + +It had been an off year for piñons, so boxes were put up in sheltered +nooks around the park and the rangers always put food into them while +making patrols. I carried my pockets full of peanuts while riding the +trails, and miles from Headquarters the squirrels learned to watch for +me. I learned to look out for them also, after one had dropped from an +overhanging bough to the flank of a sensitive horse I was riding. The +Fred Harvey boys purchased a hundred pounds of peanuts for the little +fellows, and the animals also learned to beg from tourists. All a +squirrel had to do in order to keep well stuffed was to sit up in the +middle of the road and look cunning. + +One day a severe cold kept me in bed. Three or four of the little +rascals found an entrance and came pell-mell into the house. One located +a cookie and the others chased him into my room with it. For half an +hour they fought and raced back and fourth over my bed while I kept +safely hidden under the covers, head and all. During a lull I took a +cautious look around. There they sat, lined up like schoolboys, on the +dresser, trying to get at the impudent squirrels in the glass! Failing +in that, they investigated the bottles and boxes. They didn't care much +for the smell of camphor, but one poke-nosey fellow put his nose in the +powder jar and puffed; when he backed away, he looked like a merry old +Santa Claus, his whiskers white with powder and his black eyes +twinkling. + +Once the Chief gave them some Eastern chestnuts and black walnuts. They +were bewildered. They rolled them over and over in their paws and +sniffed at them, but made no effort to cut into the meat. We watched to +see what they would do, and they took those funny nuts out under the +trees and buried them good and deep. Maybe they thought time would +mellow them. + +But the worst thing those little devils did to me happened later. I had +cooked dinner for some of the powers-that-be from Washington, and for +dessert I made three most wonderful lemon pies. They were dreams! Each +one sported fluffy meringue not less than three inches thick (and eggs +eighty cents a dozen). They were cooling on a shelf outside the door. +Along comes greedy Mr. Bunty looking for something to devour. + +"You go away. I'm looking for real company and can't be bothered with +you!" I told him, and made a threatening motion with the broom. + +He went--right into the first pie, and from that to the middle one; of +course he couldn't slight the third and last one, so he wallowed across +it. Then the horrid beast climbed a tree in front of my window. He +cleaned, and polished, and lapped meringue off his gray squirrel coat, +while I wiped tears and thought up a suitable epitaph for him. A dirty +Supai squaw enjoyed the pies. She and her assorted babies ate them, +smacking and gabbling over them just as if they hadn't been bathed in by +a wild animal. + + + + +[Illustration]. + +_Chapter V: NAVAJO LAND_ + + +Indians! Navajos! How many wide-eyed childhood hours had I spent +listening to stories of these ferocious warriors! And yet, here they +were as tame as you please, walking by my door and holding out their +native wares to sell. + +From the first instant my eyes rested upon a Navajo rug, I was +fascinated by the gaudy thing. The more I saw, the more they appealed to +the gypsy streak in my makeup. Each Navajo buck that came to my door +peddling his rugs and silver ornaments was led into the house and +questioned. Precious little information I was able to abstract at first +from my saturnine visitors. As we became better acquainted, and they +learned to expect liberal draughts of coffee sweetened into a syrup, +sometimes their tongues loosened; but still I couldn't get all the +information I craved regarding those marvelous rugs and how they were +made. + +Finally the Chief decided to spend his vacation by taking me on a trip +out into the Painted Desert, the home of this nomadic tribe. We chose +the early days of summer after the spring rains had brought relief to +the parched earth and replenished the water holes where we expected to +camp each night. Another reason was that a great number of the tribal +dances would be in full swing at this time. Old "Smolley," an antique +"navvy," had just disposed of a supply of rugs and was wending his way +homeward at the same time. Not choosing to travel in solitude, he firmly +fastened himself to our caravan. I would have preferred his absence, for +he was a vile, smelly old creature with bleary eyes and coarse uncombed +gray hair tied into a club and with a red band around his head. His +clothes were mostly a pair of cast-off overalls, which had not been +discarded by the original owner until he was in danger of arrest for +indecent exposure. Incessant wear night and day by Smolley had not +improved their looks. But Smolley knew that I never could see him hungry +while we ate; consequently he stuck closer than a brother. Our +hospitality was well repaid later, for he took care that we saw the +things we wanted to see in Navajo Land. + +The first day we rode through magnificent groves of stately yellow pines +which extended from Grand Canyon out past Grand View and the picturesque +old stage tavern there which is the property of Mr. W. R. Hearst. Quite +a distance beyond there we stopped for lunch on a little knoll covered +with prehistoric ruins. I asked Smolley what had become of the people +who had built the homes lying at our feet. He grunted a few times and +said that they were driven out on a big rock by their enemies and then +the god caused the rock to fly away with them somewhere else. +Interesting, if true. I decided that my guess was as good as his, so let +the subject drop. It must have been a long time ago, for there were +juniper trees growing from the middle of these ruins that the Chief said +were almost three thousand years old. (He had sawed one down not much +larger than these, polished the trunk and counted the annual rings with +a magnifying-glass, and found it to be well over that age.) Among the +rocks and débris, we found fragments of pottery painted not unlike the +present Zuñi ware, and other pieces of the typical basket pottery +showing the marks of woven vessels inside of which they had been +plastered thousands of years ago. I fell to dreaming of those vanished +people, the hands that had shaped this clay long since turned to dust +themselves. What had their owner thought of, hoped, or planned while +fashioning this bowl, fragments of which I turned over in my palms aeons +later? But the lunch-stop ended, and we moved on. + +That night we camped at Desert View and with the first streak of dawn we +prepared to leave the beaten path and follow a trail few tourists +attempt. When we reached the Little Colorado, we followed Smolley +implicitly as we forded the stream. "Chollo," our pack mule, became +temperamental halfway across and bucked the rest of the way. I held my +breath, expecting to see our cargo fly to the four winds; but the Chief +had not packed notional mules for years in vain. A few pans rattled, and +later I discovered that my hair brush was well smeared with jam. No +other damage was done. + +All day long we rode through the blazing sun. I kept my eyes shut as +much as possible, for the sun was so glaring that it sent sharp pains +through my head. In front the Chief rode placidly on. Outside of turning +him into a beautiful brick red, the sun seemingly did not affect him. +Smolley was dozing. But I was in agony with thirst and heat and +weariness. My horse, a gift from the Chief which I had not been wise +enough to try out on a short journey before undertaking such a trip, was +as stiff as a wooden horse. I told the Chief I knew Mescal was +knock-kneed and stiff-legged. + +"Oh, no," was the casual reply, "he's a little stiff in the shoulders +from his fall." + +"What fall?" + +"Why, I loaned him to one of the rangers last week and he took him down +the Hermit Trail and Mescal fell overboard." + +"Is he subject to vertigo?" I wanted to know. I had heard we should have +steep trails to travel on this trip. + +"No; the ranger loaded him with two water kegs, and when Mescal got +excited on a steep switchback the ranger lost his head and drove him +over the edge. He fell twenty feet and was knocked senseless. It took +two hours to get him out again." + +"Some ranger," was my heated comment; "who was it?" + +"No matter," said the Chief. "He isn't a ranger any more." The Chief +said Mescal did not suffer any from the stiffness, but I'll admit that I +suffered both mentally and physically. Anyway I had that to worry about +and it took my mind off the intolerable heat. + +Almost before we knew it a storm gathered and broke directly over our +heads. There was no shelter, so we just kept riding. I had visions of +pneumonia and sore throat and maybe rheumatism. In fact I began to feel +twinges of rheumatics, but the Chief scoffed. He said I should have had +a twelve-inch saddle instead of a fourteen and if I wasn't so dead set +on a McClellan instead of a Western Stock I would be more comfortable. +He draped a mackinaw around me and left me to my fate. I wasn't scared +by the storm, but Mescal was positively unnerved. He trembled and +cringed at every crash. I had always enjoyed electrical storms, but I +never experienced one quite so personal before. Cartwheels and +skyrockets exploded under my very nose and blue flame wrapped all around +us. The Chief had gone on in search of the pack mule, and I was alone +with Smolley. Through a lull in the storm I caught a glimpse of him. He +slouched stolidly in the saddle as unconcernedly as he had slouched in +the broiling heat. In fact I think he was still dozing. + +As suddenly as the storm had come it was gone, and we could see it ahead +of us beating and lashing the hot sands. Clouds of earthy steam rose +enveloping us, but as these cleared away the air was as cool and pure +and sweet as in a New England orchard in May. On a bush by the trail a +tiny wren appeared and burst into song like a vivacious firecracker. +Rock squirrels darted here and there, and tiny cactus flowers opened +their sleepy eyes and poured out fragrance. And then, by and by, it was +evening and we were truly in Navajo Land. + +We made our camp by a water hole replenished by the recent rain. While +the Chief hobbled the horses I drank my fill of the warm, brackish water +and lay back on the saddles to rest. The Chief came into camp and put a +can of water on the fire to boil. When it boiled he said, "Do you want a +drink of this hot water or can you wait until it cools?" + +"Oh, I had a good drink while you were gone," I answered drowsily. + +"Where did you get it? The canteens were dry." + +"Why, out of the waterhole, of course"; I was impatient that he could be +so stupid. + +"You did? Well, unless God holds you in the palm of his hand you will be +good and sick. That water is full of germs. To say nothing of a dead cow +or two. I thought you had better sense than to drink water from holes in +the ground." I rose up and took another look at the oasis. Sure enough, +horns and a hoof protruded from one end of the mudhole. I sank back +weakly and wondered why I had ever thought I wanted to visit the +Navajos. I hoped my loved ones back in the Virginias would not know how +I died. It sounded too unromantic to say one passed out from drinking +dead cow! I might as well say here that evidently I was held firmly by +the Deity, for I felt no ill effects whatever. I couldn't eat any +supper, but I knew Smolley would soon blow in and it would not be +wasted. + +As dusk settled around us we could almost hear the silence. Here and +there a prairie owl would whirl low to the ground with a throaty chuckle +for a time, but that soon ceased. Across the fire I could see the dull +glow of the Chief's cigarette, but the air was so quiet that not the +faintest odor of tobacco drifted to me. While we lolled there, half +waking, half dreaming, Old Smolley stepped noiselessly into camp and at +a wave of the Chief's hand swiftly emptied the coffeepot and skillet. He +wiped his greasy mouth on his sleeve and said: "Sing-sing this night. +Three braves sick. Sing 'em well. You wanna see?" + +Did we! I was up and ready before his last word was out. We followed him +for ten minutes up a dry wash filled with bowlders and dry brush. I +stepped high and wide, fully expecting to be struck by a rattlesnake any +minute. I knew if I said anything the Chief would laugh at me, so I +stayed behind him and looked after my own safety. We reached a little +mesa at the head of the coulee and found Indians of all shapes and sizes +assembled there. Two or three huge campfires were crackling, and a pot +of mutton stewed over one of them. Several young braves were playing +cards, watched by a bevy of giggling native belles. The lads never +raised their eyes to the girls, but they were quite conscious of +feminine observation. + +Three men, grievously ill indeed, and probably made worse by the long +ride to the scene of the dance, were lying in a hogan built of +cottonwood branches. Outside, standing closely packed together, were the +Navajo bucks and the medicine men. When an Indian is sick he goes to the +doctor instead of sending for the doctor to visit him. And then +invitations are sent out all over the Reservation for the singers to +come and assist in the cure. The Navajos had responded loyally on this +occasion and were grouped according to location. One group would sing +the weird minor wail for half an hour and then another bunch would break +in for a few minutes, only to have still a third delegation snatch the +song away from them. So closely did they keep time and so smoothly did +one bunch take up where another left off that we, standing less than +twenty feet away, could not tell which group was singing except when the +Tuba City crowd took up the plaint. Their number was so small that they +couldn't get out much noise. The Indians had discarded their civilized +garb for the occasion and were clad mostly in atmosphere helped out with +a gee-string of calico. Some had streaks of white and black paint on +them. I fell to dreaming of what it would have meant to be captured by +such demons only a few years ago, and it wasn't long until I lost +interest in that scene. I was ready to retreat. We watched the medicine +men thump and bang the invalids with bunches of herbs and prayer sticks +a few minutes longer; then with Smolley as our guide we wandered over to +the Squaw Dance beside another bonfire, located at a decorous distance +from the improvised hospital hogan. + +The leading squaw, with a big bunch of feathers fastened to a stick, +advanced to the fire and made a few impressive gestures. She was garbed +in the wide, gathered calico skirt, the velvet basque trimmed with +silver buttons, and the high brown moccasins so dear to feminine +Navajos. The orchestra was vocal, the bucks again furnishing the music. +After circling around the spectators a few times the squaw decided on +the man she wanted and with one hand took a firm grasp of his shirt just +above the belt. Then she galloped backward around him while he was +dragged helplessly about with her, looking as sheepish as the mutton +simmering in the kettle. Other squaws picked partners and soon there +were numerous couples doing the silly prance. Silly it looked to us, but +I thought of a few of our civilized dances and immediately reversed my +opinion. + +The squaws occasionally prowled around among the spectators, keeping in +the shadows and seeking white men for partners. These, mostly cowboys +and trading-post managers, were wary, and only one was caught napping. +It cost him all the loose silver he had in his pocket to get rid of the +tiny fat squaw that had captured him. + +We were told that dances and races would continue for several days, and +so, firmly bidding good night to Smolley, we went back to camp and fell +asleep with the faint hubbub coming to us now and then. + +Almost before the Chief had breakfast started the next morning Smolley +stepped into the scene and took a prominent seat near the steaming +coffeepot. "You arrive early," I remarked. "Now how could you know that +breakfast was so near ready?" This last a trifle sarcastically, I fear. +"Huh, me, I sleep here," pointing to the side of a rock not ten feet +from my own downy bed. That settled me for keeps. I subsided and just +gazed with a fatal hypnotism at the flapjacks disappearing down his +ample gullet. It was fatal, for while I was spellbound the last one +disappeared and I had to make myself some more or go without breakfast. +When Smolley had stilled the first fierce pangs of starvation he pulled +a pair of moccasins out of the front of his dirty shirt and tossed them +to me. (The gesture had somewhat the appearance of tossing a bone to an +angry dog.) Anyway the dog was appeased. The moccasins had stiff rawhide +soles exactly shaped to fit my foot, and the uppers were soft brown +buckskin beautifully tanned. They reached well above the ankles and +fastened on the side with three fancy silver buttons made by a native +silversmith. A tiny turquoise was set in the top of each button. I +marveled at the way they fitted, until the Chief admitted that he had +given Smolley one of my boudoir slippers for a sample. Eventually the +other slipper went to a boot manufacturer and I became the possessor of +real hand-made cowboy boots. + +Breakfast disposed of, we mounted and went in search of a rug factory, +that being the initial excuse for the journey. A mile or two away we +found one in operation. The loom consisted of two small cottonwood trees +with cross-beams lashed to them, one at the top and the other at the +bottom. A warp frame with four lighter sticks forming a square was +fastened within the larger frame. The warp was drawn tight, with the +threads crossed halfway to the top. Different-colored yarns were wound +on a short stick, and with nimble fingers a squaw wove the pattern. +There was no visible pattern for her to follow. She had that all mapped +out in her brain, and followed it instinctively. I asked her to describe +the way the rug would look when finished, and she said, "No can tell. Me +know here," tapping her forehead. I liked the way the weaving was begun, +and so I squatted there in the sunshine for two hours trying to get her +to talk. Finally I gave her ten dollars for the rug when it should be +finished and little by little she began to tell me the things I wanted +to know. We made no real progress in our conversation until I learned +that she had been a student at Sherman Indian Institute for eight years. +When she found that I knew the school well and some of the teachers, a +look of discontent and unhappiness came over her face. She said that she +had been very, very happy at Sherman. With a wave of her slender brown +hand she said: "Look at this!" Her eyes rested with distaste on the +flock of sheep grazing near, turned to the mud-daubed hogan behind us, +and swept on across the cactus-studded desert. "They teach us to sleep +in soft, white beds and to bathe in tile bathtubs. We eat white cooking. +We cook on electric stoves. We are white for years, and then they send +us back to this! We sleep on the earth, we cook with sheep-dung fires; +we have not water even for drinking. We hate our own people, we hate our +children when they come!" I was so startled at the outburst. Her English +was faultless. I had enough sense to keep still, and she went on more +quietly: "When I left Sherman I hoped to marry a boy there who was +learning the printer's trade. Then we could have lived as your people +do. My father sold me for ten ponies and forty sheep. I am a squaw now. +I live as squaws did hundreds of years ago. And so I try to be just a +squaw. I hope to die soon." And there it was, just as she said. Turned +into a white girl for eight years, given a long glimpse of the Promised +Land, then pushed back into slavery. We saw lots of that. It seemed as +though the ones that were born and lived and died without leaving the +reservation were much happier. + +"What is your name?" I asked after we had been silent while her swift, +nervous fingers wove a red figure into a white background. "I'm Mollie, +Smolley's daughter." So the greedy old dog had sold his own child. That +is the usual thing, Mollie said. Girls are sold to the highest bidder, +but fortunately there is a saving clause. In case the girl dislikes her +husband too much she makes him so miserable he takes her back to her +father and they are divorced instantly. The father keeps the wedding +gifts and sells her again for more sheep and horses. The flocks really +belong to the women, but I can't see what good they do them. The women +tend them and shear them and even nurse them. They wash and dye and card +and weave the wool into rugs, and then their lordly masters take the +rugs and sell them. A part of the money is gambled away on pony races or +else beaten into silver jewelry to be turned into more money. A certain +number of rugs are turned in to the trading-post for groceries, calico, +and velvet. Navajos never set a table or serve a meal. They cook any +time there is anything to cook, and then when the grub is done, eat it +out of the pot with their fingers. They have no idea of saving anything +for the next meal. They gorge like dogs, and then starve perhaps for +days afterward. + +Mollie had two children, a slim, brown lad perhaps ten years old, who +was watching the sheep near by, and a tiny maid of three, sitting +silently by her mother. The boy seemed to have inherited some of his +mother's rebellion and discontent, but it appeared on his small face as +wistfulness. He was very shy, and when I offered him a silver coin he +made no move to take it. I closed his fingers around it, and he ran to +his mother with the treasure. As he passed me going back to his sheep, +he raised his great, sad black eyes and for a second his white teeth +flashed in a friendly grin. + +The men folks had wandered on to the races a mile away, and Mollie, the +babe, and I followed. There was no business of closing up house when we +left. She just put the bright wool out of the reach of pack rats and we +were ready. I admired her forethought, for only the night before I had +lost a cake of soap, one garter, and most of my hairpins. Of course the +rat was honest, for he had left a dried cactus leaf, a pine cone, and +various assorted sticks and straws in place of what he took. That's why +this particularly vexing rodent is called a "trade rat." I used to hear +that it takes two to make a bargain. That knowledge has not penetrated +into pack-ratdom. + +A few Hopi and Supai Indians were darting around on show ponies, spotted +and striped "Paints," as they call them. A Navajo lad came tearing down +upon us, riding a most beautiful sorrel mare. It seemed that he would +ride us down; but I never did run from an Indian, so I stood my ground. +With a blood-chilling war whoop he pulled the mare to her haunches and +laughed down at me. He was dressed as a white man would be and spoke +perfect English. He was just home from Sherman, he explained, and was +going to race his mare against the visitors. I took his picture on the +mare, and he told me where to send it to him after it was finished. "I +hope you win. I'm betting on you for Mollie," I told him and gave him +some money. He did win! Around the smooth hillside the ponies swept, and +when almost at the goal he leaned forward and whistled in the mare's +ear. She doubled up like a jackknife and when she unfolded she was a +nose ahead of them all. Every race ended the same way. He told me he won +two hundred silver dollars all told. I am wearing a bracelet now made +from one of them. Very seldom does one see a rattlesnake portrayed in +any Hopi or Navajo work, but I had my heart set on a rattlesnake +bracelet. Silversmith after silversmith turned me down flat, until at +last Mollie and the boy told me they would see that I got what I wanted. +A month later a strange Indian came to my house, handed me a package +with a grunt, and disappeared. It was my bracelet. I always wear it to +remind me of my visit to Navajo Land. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter VI: "THEY KILLED ME"_ + + +White Mountain and I walked out to the cemetery one evening at sunset, +and I asked him to tell me about the four sleeping there. One trampled +grave, without a marker, was the resting-place of a forest ranger who +had died during the flu epidemic. At that time no body could be shipped +except in a metal casket, and since it had been impossible to secure one +he was buried far from his home and people. The mother wrote she would +come and visit the grave as soon as she had enough money, but death took +her too and she was spared seeing his neglected grave. + +The Chief stood looking down at the third grave, which still held the +weather-beaten débris of funeral wreaths. + +"Cap Hance is buried here," he said. "He was a dear friend of mine." + +From his tone I scented a story, and as we strolled back to Headquarters +he told me something of the quaint old character. In the days that +followed, I heard his name often. Travelers who had not been at the +Canyon for several years invariably inquired for "Cap" as soon as they +arrived. I always felt a sense of personal shame when I heard a ranger +directing them to his grave. He had begged with his last breath to be +buried in the Canyon, or else on the Rim overlooking it. "God willing, +and man aiding," as he always said. However, his wish had been ignored, +for the regular cemetery is some distance from the Rim. + +This Captain John Hance was the first settler on the Rim of the Grand +Canyon. The Hance Place is located about three miles east of Grand View +Point. Here he built the old Hance Trail into the Canyon, and discovered +numerous copper and asbestos mines. Many notables of the early days +first saw the Canyon from his home, staging in there from Flagstaff, +seventy miles away. He had an inexhaustible fund of stories, mostly made +up out of whole cloth. These improbable tales were harmless, however, +and in time he became almost an institution at the Canyon. The last +years of his life were spent at El Tovar, regaling the tourists with his +colorful and imaginary incidents of the wild and woolly days. + +He was quite proud of his Munchausenian abilities. Another old-timer at +the Canyon, W. W. Bass, who is still alive, was Cap's best friend. Cap +Hance was often heard to declare: "There are three liars here at the +Canyon; I'm one and Bass is the other two." + +Romantic old ladies at El Tovar often pressed him for a story of his +early fights with the Indians. Here is one of his experiences: + +"Once, a good many years ago when I was on the outs with the Navajos, I +was riding the country a few miles back from here looking up some of my +loose horses. I happened to cast my eye over to one side and saw a bunch +of the red devils out looking for trouble. I saw that I was outnumbered, +so I spurred old Roaney down into a draw at the left, hoping that I +hadn't been seen. I got down the draw a little piece and thought I had +given them the slip, but the yelling told me that they were still after +me. I thought I could go down this draw a ways and then circle out and +get back to my ranch. But I kept going down the canyon and the walls +kept getting steeper and steeper, and narrower and narrower until +finally they got so close together that me and Roaney stuck right +there." + +At this point he always stopped and rolled a cigarette. The ladies were +invariably goggle-eyed with excitement and would finally exclaim: + +"What happened then, Captain Hance?" + +"Oh, they killed me," he'd say simply. + +Another time he was again being chased by Indians, and looking back over +his shoulder at them, not realizing that he was so near the Rim of the +Canyon, his horse ran right up to the edge and jumped off into space. + +"I'd a been a goner that time," he said, "if I hadn't a had time to +think it over and decide what to do." (He fell something like five +thousand feet.) "So when my horse got within about fifteen feet from the +ground, I rose up in the stirrups and gave a little hop and landed on +the ground. All I got was a twisted ankle." + +A lady approached him one day while he stood on the Rim gazing into the +mile-deep chasm. + +"Captain Hance," she said, "I don't see any water in the Canyon. Is this +the dry season, or does it never have any water in it?" + +Gazing at her earnestly through his squinty, watery eyes, he exclaimed: + +"Madam! In the early days many's the time I have rode my horse up here +and let him drink _right where we stand_!" + +The old fellow was a bachelor, but he insisted that in his younger days +he had married a beautiful girl. When asked what had become of her he +would look mournful and tell a sad tale of her falling over a ledge down +in the Canyon when they were on their honeymoon. He said it took him +three days to reach her, and that when he did locate her he found she +had sustained a broken leg, so he had to shoot her. + +As he grew feeble, he seemed to long for the quiet depths of the gorge, +and several times he slipped away and tried to follow the old trail he +had made in his youth. He wanted to die down at his copper mine. At +last, one night when he was near eighty years old, he escaped the +vigilance of his friends and with an old burro that had shared his +happier days he started down the trail. Ranger West got wind of it and +followed him. He found him where he had fallen from the trail into a +cactus patch and had lain all night exposed to the raw wind. He was +brought back and cared for tenderly, but he passed away. Prominent men +and women who had known and enjoyed him made up a fund to buy a bronze +plate for his grave. Remembering the size of his yarns, whoever placed +the enormous boulders at his head and feet put them nine feet apart. + +Halfway between my cabin and the Rim, in the pine woods, is a well-kept +grave with a neat stone and an iron fence around it. Here lies the body +of United States Senator Ashurst's father, who was an old-timer at the +Canyon. Years ago, while working a mine at the bottom of the Canyon, he +was caught by a cave-in and when his friends reached him he was dead. +They lashed his body on an animal and brought him up the steep trail to +be buried. While I was in Washington, Senator Ashurst told me of his +father's death and something of his life at the Canyon. He said that +often in the rush and worry of capitol life he longed for a few peaceful +moments at his father's grave. + +I never saw Senator Ashurst at the Grand Canyon, but another senator was +there often, stirring up some row or other with the Government men. He +seemed to think he owned the Canyon, the sky overhead, the dirt +underneath, and particularly the trail thereinto. His hirelings were +numerous, and each and every one was primed to worry Uncle Sam's +rangers. As dogs were prohibited in the Park, every employee of the +Senator's was amply provided with canines. Did the tourists particularly +enjoy dismounting for shade and rest at certain spots on the trail, +those places were sure to get fenced in and plastered with "Keep Off" +signs, under the pretense that they were mining claims and belonged to +him. We used to wonder what time this Senator found to serve his +constituents. + +Uncle Sam grew so weary of contesting every inch of the trail that he +set himself to build a way of his own for the people to use. Several men +under the direction of Ranger West were set to trail-building. They made +themselves a tent city on the north side of the river and packers were +kept busy taking mule loads of materials to them daily. Hundreds of +pounds of TNT were packed down safely, but one slippery morning the +horses which had been pressed into service lost their footing, slid over +the edge of the trail, and hit Bright Angel again a thousand feet below. +The packers held their breath expecting to be blown away, as two of the +horses that fell were loaded with the high explosive. It was several +minutes before they dared believe themselves safe. They sent for White +Mountain, and when he reached the animals he found they were literally +broken to pieces, their packs and cargoes scattered all over the side of +the mountain. They dragged the dead animals a few feet and dropped them +into a deep fissure which was handy. Fresh snow was scraped over the +blood-stained landscape, and when the daily trail party rode serenely +down a few minutes later there was nothing to show that a tragedy had +taken place. + +Later an enormous charge of this high explosive was put back of a point +that Rees Griffith, the veteran trail-builder, wished to remove, and the +result was awaited anxiously. About four in the afternoon Rees called +Headquarters and reported that the shot was a huge success. He was +greatly elated and said his work was about done. + +It was. + +An hour later Ranger West called for help: Rees had climbed to the top +to inspect the shot at close range, and a mammoth boulder loosened by +the blast came tumbling down, carrying Rees to the rocks below. He was +terribly crushed and broken, but made a gallant fight to live. In +looking over some notes I found a copy of White Mountain's report, which +tells the story much more completely than I could hope to: + +"In accordance with instructions, accompanied by Nurse Catti from El +Tovar I left Headquarters about 6:30 P.M. bound for Camp +Roosevelt, to be of such assistance as possible to Rees Griffith, who +had been injured by a falling rock. + +"The night was not very cold, rather balmy than otherwise, and the +descent into the Canyon was made as quickly as possible, the factor of +safety being considered. Had we been engaged in any other errand the +mystical beauty of the Canyon, bathed in ethereal moonlight, would have +been greatly enjoyed. We reached the packers' camp at Pipe Creek at nine +o'clock and found hot coffee prepared for us. Miss Catti borrowed a pair +of chaps there from one of the boys, as the wind had come up and it was +much colder. We were warned to proceed slowly over the remainder of the +trail on account of packed ice in the trail. We covered Tonto Trail in +good time, but below the 1,500-foot level on down was very dangerous. +The tread of the trail was icy and in pitch darkness, the moonlight not +reaching there. However, we reached the bottom without mishap. Miss +Catti never uttered a word of complaint or fear, but urged me to go as +fast as I considered safe. + +"When we reached Kaibab Suspension Bridge a ranger was waiting to take +our mules. We walked across the bridge and found other mules there. We +thus lost no time in crossing the bridge with animals. + +"We arrived at Camp Roosevelt a few minutes after eleven and went +immediately to where Rees had been carried. Examination showed that he +had been dead probably fifteen minutes. He had been unconscious since +nine-thirty. Two fellow-Mormons sat with the body the rest of the night. + +"When morning came arrangements were made with Rangers West and Peck to +pack the body out of the Canyon if it should be so ordered. (We would +have mounted a platform on a mule's back, lashed the body in place, and +packed it out in that manner.) However, we all felt that it would be +much better to bury him in the Canyon near the place where he lost his +life. After conferring with the Superintendent by telephone, Miss Catti, +Landscape Engineer Ferris, Rangers West, Peck, and myself selected a +spot considered proper from the point of landscape engineering, high +water, surface wash, and proximity to the trail. This place is about +five hundred yards west of the bridge in an alcove in the Archaean Rock +which forms the Canyon wall. We dug a grave there. + +"The carpenter made a very good coffin from materials at hand, and we +lined it with sheets sent down by Mrs. Smith for that purpose. She also +sent a Prayer Book and a Bible to us by Ranger Winess, who accompanied +the coroner to the scene of the accident. An impaneled jury of six +declared the death to be due to unavoidable accident. After the inquest +the coroner turned the personal effects of Rees over to me. They +consisted of a gold watch and two hundred and ninety dollars in a money +belt. I hold these subject to instructions from the widow. The body was +prepared for burial by wrapping it in white according to Mormon custom. +The coffin was carried to the grave, and, while our small company stood +uncovered, I said a few words to the effect that it was right that this +man should be laid to rest near the spot where he fell and where he had +spent a great part of his life; that it was fitting and proper that we +who had known him, worked with him, and loved him should perform this +last duty. Then the services for the burial of the dead were read, and +we left him there beside the trail he built." + +In the meantime I had been hovering anxiously at the phone, worried +about the dark, icy trail White Mountain and Nurse had to travel, and +fearing to hear that Rees was seriously injured. As soon as they reached +camp they called and said he had gone before they could get there. He +told me to wire the doctor at Williams and tell him he was not needed; +also to see that a message was sent to the wife and children of the dead +man telling them he would have to be buried in the Canyon where he was +killed. These errands were to be attended to over the local phone, but +for some reason the wire was dead. I was in a quandary. Just having +recovered from a prolonged attack of flu, I felt it unwise to go out in +several feet of snow, but that was my only course. + +Dressing as warmly as I could, I started up through the woods to ranger +quarters. The snow was above my waist, and I bumped into trees and fell +over buried logs before I reached the building. The long hall was in +darkness. I knew that most of the boys were out on duty. What if no one +were there! I knew my strength was about used up, and that I could never +cross the railroad tracks to the Superintendent's house. + +I went down the long cold hall knocking on every door. Nothing but +silence and plenty of it. I reached the door at the end of the hall and +knocked. Instantly I remembered that room belonged to Rees. His dog, +waiting to be taken down into the Canyon, leaped against the inside of +the door and went into a frenzy of howling and barking. I was +panic-stricken, and my nerve broke. I began to scream. Ranger Winess had +slept all through my knocking, but with the first scream he developed a +nightmare. He was back in the Philippines surrounded by fighting Moros +and one was just ready to knife him! He turned loose a yell that crowded +my feeble efforts aside. Finally he got organized and came to my rescue. +I told him Rees was dead and gave him the Chief's message. + +"All right. I'll get dressed and attend to everything. You better get +back to bed." + +I informed him I would not move an inch until I had company back through +the darkness. He then took me home, and went to make arrangements. + +I called the Chief and told him Ranger Winess was on the job. Then I +tried to sleep again. Coyotes howled. Rees' dog barked faintly; a +screech owl in a tree near by moaned and complained, and my thoughts +kept going with the sad news to the little home Rees had built for his +family in Utah. + +Strange trampling, grinding noises close to the window finally made me +so nervous I just had to investigate. Taking the Chief's "forty-five," +which was a load in itself, I opened the rear door and crept around the +house. And there was a poor hungry pony that had wandered away from an +Indian camp, and found the straw packed around our water pipes. He was +losing no time packing himself around the straw. I was so relieved I +could have kissed his shaggy nose. I went back to bed and slept +soundly. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter VII: A GRAND CANYON CHRISTMAS_ + + +Funny how one can never get over being homesick at Christmas. Days and +weeks and even months can pass by without that yearning for family and +home, but in all the years since I hung my stocking in front of the big +fireplace in the old home I have never learned to face Christmas Eve in +a strange place with any degree of happiness. I believe the rangers all +felt the same way. Several days before Christmas they began to plan a +real "feed." + +We had moved into our new house now, and it was decided to make a home +of it by giving a Christmas housewarming. + +The rangers all helped to prepare the dinner. Each one could choose one +dish he wanted cooked and it was cooked, even if we had to send to +Montgomery Ward and Company for the makin's. Ranger Fisk opined that +turkey dressing without oysters in it would be a total loss as far as he +was concerned, so we ordered a gallon from the Coast. They arrived three +days before Christmas, and it was his duty to keep them properly +interred in a snow drift until the Great Day arrived. + +Ranger Winess wanted pumpkin pies with plenty of ginger; White Mountain +thought roast turkey was about his speed. Since we would have that +anyway, he got another vote. This time he called for mashed turnips and +creamed onions. The Superintendent, Colonel White, being an Englishman, +asked plaintively if we couldn't manage a plum pudding! We certainly +managed one just bursting with plums. That made him happy for the rest +of the day. + +I didn't tell anybody what I intended to have for my own special dish, +but when the time came I produced a big, rich fruit cake, baked back +home by my own mother, and stuffed full of nuts and fruit and ripened to +a perfect taste. + +All the rangers helped to prepare the feast. One of them rode down the +icy trail to Indian Gardens and brought back crisp, spicy watercress to +garnish the turkey. + +After it became an effort to chew, and impossible to swallow, we washed +the dishes and gathered around the blazing fire. Ranger Winess produced +his omnipresent guitar and swept the strings idly for a moment. Then he +began to sing, "Silent Night, Holy Night." That was the beginning of an +hour of the kind of music one remembers from childhood. Just as each one +had chosen his favorite dish, now each one selected his favorite +Christmas song. When I asked for "Little Town of Bethlehem" nobody +hesitated over the words. We all knew it better than we do "Star +Spangled Banner!" I could have prophesied what Colonel White would call +for, so it was no surprise when he swung into "God rest ye merry, +gentlemen, let nothing ye dismay." Fortunately, most of us had sung +carols in our distant youth, and we sang right with the Colonel. + +Someone suggested that each one tell of the strangest Christmas Day he +or she had ever spent. For a while none of us were in Arizona. Ranger +Winess was in a state of siege in the Philippines, while the Moros +worked themselves into a state of frenzy for the attack that followed; +Ranger Fisk scaled Table Mountain, lying back of Capetown, and there +picked a tiny white flower which he had pressed in the Bible presented +to him there that day; each sailor in port had received a Bible that day +with this inscription: "Capetown, Africa, Christ's Birthday, December +25, 19--." White Mountain snowshoed twenty miles in Yellowstone to have +Christmas dinner with another ranger, but when he got there he found his +friend delirious with flu. "Did he die?" we questioned anxiously. Ranger +Winess and the Chief looked at each other and grinned. + +"Do I look like a dead one?" Ranger Winess demanded. + +"I couldn't let him die," White Mountain said. "We had just lost one +Government man, mysteriously, and hadn't any more to spare. So I got his +dogs and sledge and hauled him into Headquarters." + +Of course we wanted to know about the "lost" ranger. It seemed that +there had broken out among the buffalo herd in the Park a strange malady +that was killing them all off. An expert from Washington was en route +to make a study of the ailment, and was due to arrive just before +Christmas. Days passed into weeks and still he didn't show up. Inquiries +to Washington disclosed that he had started as per schedule. Tracing his +journey step by step it was discovered that on the train out of Chicago +he had become ill with flu and had been left in a small town hospital. +There he had died without recovering his speech, and had been buried in +the potter's field! + +"Well, then what happened to the buffalo?" + +"Washington sent us a German scientist. We loved that nation just about +that time, and on his arrival diplomatic relations were badly strained. +He was too fat and soft to use snowshoes or skis, so we loaded him on a +light truck and started for the buffalo farm. We stalled time and again, +and he sat in lordly indifference while we pushed and shoveled out. We +seemed hopelessly anchored in one drift, and from his perch where he sat +swaddled up like a mummy came his 'Vy don't you carry a portable +telephone so ve couldt hook it over the vires and call for _them_ to +come and pull us oudt?' One of the rangers replied, 'It would be nice +for us to telephone ourselves to please pull us oudt. _We_ are the +_them_ that does the pulling around here.' + +"The old boy mumbled and sputtered but rolled out and put a husky +shoulder to the wheel, and we went on our way rejoicing. He won our +respect at the buffalo farm for he soon discovered the germ that was +killing our charges, and he prepared a serum with which we vaccinated +the entire herd." + +"Wow!" Colonel White exclaimed. "I think I'd rather fight Moros than +vaccinate buffalo." He, too, had spent years in foreign warfare; his +experiences are graphically told in _Bullets and Bolos_. + +While we heard about the buffalo, one of the rangers left the room. He +came back presently, and White Mountain said to me: "Don't you want to +see your Christmas present?" + +I looked across at my proud new riding-boots, with their fancy +stitching, and funny high heels just like those the rangers wore. "I'm +crazy about them," I said. + +But the whole bunch were laughing. White Mountain led me to the door, +and there I had my first glimpse of Tar Baby! He was a four-year-old +horse that had spent those years running wild on the range. A few months +before he had been captured and partly tamed. But he was hard-mouthed, +and stiff-necked and hell-bent on having his own way about things. I +didn't know all that when I saw him this Christmas Day. To me he was +perfect. He was round and fat, shiny black, with a white star in his +forehead, and four white feet. One eye was blue, and the other one the +nicest, softest, kindest brown! He was just that kind of a Dr. Jekyll +and Mr. Hyde horse, too! He was fitted out with a new saddle, a gaudy +Navajo saddle blanket, and a bridle with silver inlaid fittings. The +spade bit was necessary. I found that out later, also. + +I would have stood there speechless with admiration the rest of the day, +but the others reminded me it was time to light the big tree we had +planned for the children in the Park. + +The rangers had brought a slender fir into the Information Room and we +had it trimmed within an inch of its life. Cranberries and popcorn ropes +festooned its branches, and again Montgomery Ward and Company's +catalogue had been searched for treasures to load it with. Every child +in the Park, regardless of race or color, was remembered. Little brown +brothers, whose Filipino mothers worked in the laundry, found themselves +possessors of strange toys; Navajo babies and Hopi cupids from the Hopi +House were well supplied. One small Hopi lass wailed loudly at the look +of the flaxen-haired doll that fell to her lot. She was afraid to hold +it--she wouldn't let anybody else touch it--so she stood it in a corner +and squalled at it from a safe distance. When the party was over, an +older sister had to carry it for her. I suspect she much preferred her +native dolls. + +After the tree was bare, we all went down to the Fred Harvey Recreation +Room and danced the rest of the evening away. + +I could hardly wait for morning to go for a ride on Tar Baby. Ranger +West brought him down to the house to saddle him. While I dressed up in +my new boots I overheard the conversation between the ranger and the +horse. It was a rather one-sided talk, but quite interesting. + +"Whoa there, Tar Baby!" very firmly and casually. "Stand still now!" + +"Hey, now, you black devil, don't you try bitin' me again! Yes, he's a +nice baby horse," this last remark quite saccharine. A slight silence +fell while the cinches were being tightened, then--heels beating a tune +on the side of the shed, and sultry, sulphuric remarks being fitted to +the tune. About that time I was ready to go out. + +"Have any trouble with Tar Baby?" + +"No, oh, no. None whatever. Ready to go?" + +Every morning as soon as I was in the saddle we had the same argument. +Would he go where and as fast as I desired, or would he run as fast and +as far as he pleased? Sore wrists and a strained disposition were the +price I paid for winning the battle. He just went wild if he could race +with another horse. Of course White Mountain put his foot down on such +racing, and since the rangers were such good sports their Chief never +learned that racing was part of the daily program! + +One day, when some of the Washington officials were there, the Chief +borrowed Tar Baby to ride. He said it took him half a day to get him to +stay on the ground with the other horses. He came home fully determined +that I must trade my Christmas gift for a more sensible horse. Tears and +coaxing availed nothing, but I did win his consent to one more ride +before I gave him up. + +Ranger West was going to ride the drift fence and I started out with +him. Tar Baby was a handful that day, and I was having all I could do to +control him. We passed a bunch of tourists having lunch out of paper +sacks, and one of the men had a wonderful idea. He said something to the +others, and while they giggled he blew one of the bags full of air and +exploded it right under my horse. Of course Tar Baby bolted, and even as +he ran away I admired his ability to keep ahead of Ranger West, who was +running full tilt after us. It was five minutes before I could get the +bit out of his teeth and bring the spade device into play. I had to +choke him into submission. + +Ranger West and Ranger Fisk conducted those tourists out of the Park, +and they had to leave without seeing the Canyon. + +"Ve drove here from New York to see this Canyon," one complained, and +made wide gestures with both hands. + +"It wouldn't do you any good to see it," Ranger West told him grimly. +"You'd probably push somebody over the edge to have a little fun." + +I was sure the Chief would take Tar Baby away after that. But I guess he +thought if the horse hadn't killed me with such a good chance as he had, +I was safe. He never said another word about selling him. + +Several Indians were camped around in the woods near the Park, and we +visited them quite often. An Indian has as many angles in his makeup as +a centipede has legs. Just about the time you think you have one +characteristically placed, you put your finger down and he isn't there. +Charge one with dishonesty, and the next week he will ride a hundred +miles to deliver a bracelet you paid for months before. Decide he is +cruel and inhuman, and he will spend the night in heart-breaking labor, +carrying an injured white man to safety. + +I suggested hiring a certain Navajo to cut some wood, and was told that +he was too lazy to eat what he wanted. In a few days this same brave +came to Headquarters with the pelt of a cougar. He had followed the +animal sixty miles, tracking it in the snow on foot without a dog to +help him. We knew where he took the trail and where it ended. He killed +the big cat, skinned it, and carried the pelt back to the Canyon. You +won't find many white men with that much grit! A tourist from New York +saw the pelt and coveted it. He offered twenty-five dollars. Neewah +wanted fifty. The tourist tried to beat him down. There wasn't any +argument about it. The whole conversation was a monologue. The Indian +saw that the tourist wanted the skin badly, so he just sat and stared +into space while the tourist elaborated on how much twenty-five dollars +would buy and how little the pelt had cost the Indian! The buck simply +sat there until it was about time for the train to pull out, then he +picked up the hide and stalked away. Mr. Tourist hastened after him and +shelled out fifty pesos. I expect he told the home folks how he shot +that panther in self-defense. + +Ranger West did shoot a big cougar soon afterward. Not in self-defense +but in revenge. + +Not many deer lived on the South Rim then. That was before the fawns +were brought by airplane across the Canyon! The few that were there were +cherished and protected in every possible way. A salt pen was built so +high the cattle couldn't get in, and it was a wonderful sight to see the +graceful deer spring over that high fence with seemingly no effort at +all. Ranger West came in one morning with blood in his eye--one of his +pets had been dragged down under the Rim and half devoured by a giant +cougar. A hunt was staged at once. I was told to stay at home, but that +didn't stop me from going. Ranger Fisk always saddled Tar Baby for me +when everybody else thought it best to leave me behind. So I wasn't far +away when the big cat was treed by the dogs. He sat close to the trunk +of the dead tree, defying the dogs and spitting at them until they were +almost upon him. Then he sprang up the tree and lay stretched out on a +limb snarling until a rifle ball brought him down. He hit the ground +fighting, and ripped the nose of an impetuous puppy wide open. Another +shot stretched him out. He measured eight feet from tip to tip. His skin +was tanned by an Indian and adorns a bench in the Ranger Office. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter VIII: THE DAY'S WORK_ + + +The snow had been tumbling down every day for weeks, until several feet +lay on the ground. After each storm the rangers took snow plows and +cleared the roads along the Rim, but the rest of our little world lay +among big snow drifts. As we walked around among the houses, only our +heads and shoulders showed above the snow. It was like living in Alaska. +The gloomy days were getting monotonous, and when the Chief announced he +was going to make an inspection trip over Tonto Trail, I elected myself, +unanimously, to go along. + +"But it's cold riding down there, even if there is no snow," protested +White Mountain. "And, besides, your horse is lame." + +"Well, it isn't exactly hot up here, and I'll borrow Dixie. I'm going!" + +Ranger West obligingly lent Dixie to me and I went. The thermometer +registered well below zero when we started down Bright Angel Trail. On +account of the icy trail my descent threatened to be a sudden one. Dixie +slid along stiff-legged, and I was half paralyzed with fright and cold. +But every time the Chief looked back, I pulled my frozen features into +what I considered a cheerful smile. I got more and more scared as we +went farther down, and finally had a brilliant idea. "My feet are +awfully cold, and couldn't I walk a while?" The Chief had probably heard +that same excuse from a thousand others, but he gravely assented and +helped me dismount. I started down the trail leading Dixie. My feet +really were so cold they were numb. This was probably a mercy, since +Dixie kept stepping on them! I began to run to "keep out from in under," +and she kept pace until we were almost galloping down the trail. When we +got below the snow line, my excuse wouldn't work, and I had to ride +again. + +There was sagebrush and sand and cactus. Then sand and cactus and +sagebrush. Here and there we saw a lop-eared burro, and far away I saw +an eagle sailing around. Having nothing else to do I counted the burros +we passed--seventy. A bunch grazing near the trail looked interesting, +so I made a careful approach and took their picture. Of course I forgot +to roll the film, and a little later Friend Husband decided to +photograph the enormous pillar that gives the name to Monument Creek. +The result was rather amazing when we developed the film a week later. +The wild burros were grazing placidly on the summit of a barren rock, a +couple of hundred feet in the air, without visible means of ascent or +descent. The Chief made a few sarcastic remarks about this picture, but +I firmly reminded him my burros were there first! He didn't say anything +else--aloud. + +It took a long day's riding to reach Hermit's Camp just at dusk. We were +warmly welcomed by a roaring fire and hot supper. After I ate and then +sat a while I was too stiff to move. I knew I would stay awake all night +and nurse my aches. That, added to my fear of "phoby cats," made me +reluctant to retire. What's a hydrophobia cat? I don't know for sure +that it's anything, but the camp man told me to keep my door locked or +one would sneak in and bite me. He also said that I would go crazy if +one chewed on me. I intended to keep at least one ear cocked for +suspicious noises; but when I hit the cot everything was a blank until I +heard the Chief making a fire in the little tin stove. + +"Wake up and get dressed. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, and +I want you to walk down to the creek and see the trout." + +"Walk?" I never expected even to crawl again. Sore! Stiff!! I labored +all of ten minutes trying to get my boots on. And I had to ride up +Hermit Trail that day. I was glad to ride. I never mentioned walking to +warm my feet. The trail wound up and up. Today I slid down on Dixie's +tail, whereas yesterday I had braced my heels against her ears. A young +snowslide came down the mountainside, and we almost went on with it. It +missed us by such a very slight margin that fugitive snowballs rolled +around Dixie's feet and left her trembling and cringing with fright. + +Dixie and I had been loitering quite a distance behind, because White +Mountain had made us a little mad about something; but we decided we +really had no right to be killed without letting him know about it, and +we kept close to his heels the rest of the way. + +All too soon we reached near-zero weather again. It got zero, then +zero-er, and quickly zero-est. I thought of all the hot things I could +remember, endeavoring to raise the temperature. + +Real chili con carne. + +Pennsylvania Avenue in August. + +Hornet stings. + +Spankings sustained in my youth! + +It was useless. I couldn't qualify as a Scientist. Maybe I lacked +concentration, for between looking out for another avalanche and +wondering how soon I could decently ask for another cup of coffee from +the thermos bottle, my thoughts wandered. + +Perhaps the Chief was cold, too. Anyway, we stopped at Santa Maria +Spring and spread out our lunch. The quaint little shelter over the +spring was being rapidly covered with Boston ivy. White Mountain said +Earl Shirley used to ride down there twice a week after a hard day's +work to water the newly set plants so they would grow. One is always +learning new things about Western men! + +It was mighty good to find Ranger Fisk at the top of the trail. He said +he thought I would be cold and tired so he brought a flivver to take me +the remaining six miles in to Headquarters. He had the house warm and +had melted snow for drinking-water. All the water pipes had frozen while +we were gone, and I washed my face with cold cream for several days. + +I hadn't more than settled down comfortably when the Chief found it +necessary to make another trip down. When he mentioned going I played +the piano so loud I couldn't hear him. I had no desire to go. Not while +I could sit in my warm house and read and sew in my comfortable rocking +chair. It was without a single qualm that I waved him a floury adieu +from the midst of cookie-making. I closed the door and went back to my +baking, which was abruptly terminated by a blazing board falling into +the crock of dough. The house was burning over my luckless head. I +turned around and around a few times in the same spot, then tried to +throw a bucket of water up against the ceiling. Had I been the +conflagration it would have ended then and there, for I was thoroughly +drenched. Failing to be my own fire engine I ran out and happened to see +Ranger Winess crossing the road. He must have been startled at my war +whoop, for he came running. By that time the smoke was rolling out +through the roof. While he climbed into the loft and tore pieces of +blazing boards away, I gave the emergency call by telephone, and soon we +had plenty of help. After the fire was conquered, I went to the hotel +and stayed until the Chief got back. + +The months from Christmas to April are the dullest at Grand Canyon. Of +course tourists still come but not in the numbers milder weather brings. +There is little or no automobile travel coming in from the outside +world. Very few large groups or conventions come except in June, which +seems to be the month for brides and large parties. That left the ranger +family more time for play, especially in the evenings, and we had jolly +parties in our big living-room. The piano was the drawing card, and +combined with Ranger Winess' large guitar manufactured strange music. +When the other rangers joined in and sang they managed to make quite a +racket. Perhaps the songs they sang would not have met with enthusiasm +in select drawing-rooms, but they had a charm for all that. Cowboy +songs, sea chanties, and ballads many years old were often on call. +Kipling's poems, especially "I Learned about Women from Her" were prime +favorites. + +I soon learned to take my sewing close to the fire and sit there quietly +a few minutes in order to be forgotten. There are realms of masculine +pleasure into which no mere woman should intrude. Besides that, I never +could negotiate the weird crooks and turns they gave to their tunes. +Every time an old favorite was sung, it developed new twists and curves. +Ranger Winess would discover a heretofore unknown chord on his guitar: +"Get that one, boys. That's a wicked minor!" Then for the ensuing five +minutes, agonizing wails shattered the smoke screen while they were on +the trail of that elusive minor. I had one set rule regarding their +concerts--positively no lighted cigarettes were to be parked on my +piano! + +One song Ranger Winess always rendered as a solo, because all the others +enjoyed hearing it too much to join in with him: + + OLD ROANEY + + I was hangin' 'round the town, and I didn't have a dime. + I was out of work and loafin' all the time. + When up stepped a man, and he said, "I suppose + You're a bronco-buster. I can tell by your clothes." + + Well, I thought that I was, and I told him the same. + I asked him if he had any bad ones to tame? + "I have an old pony what knows how to buck; + At stacking up cowboys he has all the luck."' + + I asked him what'd he pay if I was to stay + And ride his old pony around for a day. + "I'll give you ten dollars;" I said, "That's my chance," + Throwed my saddle in the buckboard and headed for the ranch. + + Got up next morning, and right after chuck + Went down to the corral to see that pony buck. + He was standin' in the corner, standin' all alone---- + That pig-eyed pony, a strawberry roan! + + Little pin ears that were red at the tip; + The X-Y-Z was stamped on his hip. + Narrow in the chest, with a scar on his jaw, + What all goes with an old outlaw! + + First came the bridle, then there was a fight; + But I throwed on my saddle and screwed it down tight, + Stepped to his middle, feelin' mighty fine, + Said: "Out of the way, boys, watch him unwind!" + + Well, I guess Old Roaney sure unwound; + Didn't spend much of his time on the ground! + Went up in the East, come down in the West---- + Stickin' to his middle, I was doin' my best! + + He went in the air with his belly to the sun + The old sun-fishin' son-of-a-gun! + Lost both the stirrups and I lost my hat + Reached for the horn, blinder than a bat. + + Then Old Roaney gently slid into high, + Left me sittin' on nothin' but the sky. + There ain't no cowboy who is alive + Can ride Old Roaney when he makes his high dive! + +When the piano player stopped and Frank struck a few soft chords on his +guitar I knew they were getting sentimental. Pretty soon someone would +begin to hum: "When the dew is on the rose, and the world is all +repose." ... Those rangers lived close to danger and hardships every +day, but they had more real sentiment in their makeup than any type of +men I know. Maybe it's because women are so scarce around them that they +hold all womanhood in high regard. Most of them dreamed of a home and +wife and children, but few of them felt they had a right to ask a woman +to share their primitive mode of living. They might not jump up to +retrieve a dropped handkerchief, or stand at attention when a woman +entered a room, but in their hearts they had a deep respect for every +woman that showed herself worthy. + +Now and then, a certain son of Scotland, Major Hunter Clarkson, dropped +in. He was a real musician, and while I sewed and the Chief smoked he +treated us to an hour of true melody. He used to play the bagpipes at +home with his four brothers, he said, and he admitted that at times the +racket they made jarred his mother's china from the shelves! + +He had served with the British forces in Egypt, and if he could have +known how interested we were in his experiences, he would have given us +more than a bare hint of the scenes that were enacted during the defense +of the Dardanelles and the entrance into Jerusalem. + +One night he was telling us something about the habits of the Turks they +fought, when the telephone rang and interrupted the narrative, which was +never finished. The Chief had to go and investigate an attempted +suicide. + +It seemed that a lad under twenty, in Cleveland, had seen on a movie +screen a picture of Grand Canyon. He tucked that vision away somewhere +in his distorted brain, and when he had his next quarrel with his mother +he gathered together all his worldly wealth and invested it in a ticket +to Grand Canyon. There he intended to end his troubles, and make his +mother sorry she hadn't sewed on a button the instant he had asked her +to! That was a touching scene he pictured to himself--his heart-broken +mother weeping with remorse because her son had jumped into the Canyon. + +But! When he reached the Rim and looked over, it was a long way to the +bottom, and there were sharp rocks there. Perhaps no one would ever find +him, and what's the use of killing one's self if nobody knows about it? +Something desperate had to be done, however, so he shot himself where he +fancied his heart was located (he hit his stomach, which was a pretty +close guess) with a cheap pistol he carried, hurled the gun into the +Canyon, and started walking back to Headquarters. He met Ranger Winess +making a patrol and reported to him that he had committed suicide! +Rangers West and Winess took care of him through the night, with Nurse +Catti's supervision, and the next day the Chief took him to Flagstaff, +where the bullet was removed and he was returned to his mother a sadder +and a wiser boy. + +There is some mysterious power about the Canyon that seems to make it +impossible for a person to face the gorge and throw himself into it. + +A young man, immensely wealthy, brought his fiancée to the Canyon for a +day's outing. At Williams, where they had lunch, he proposed that she go +on to the Coast with him, but she refused, saying that she thought it +was not the thing to do, since her mother expected her back home that +night. He laughed and scribbled something on a paper which he tucked +carelessly into a pocket of his overcoat. They went on to the Canyon and +joined a party that walked out beyond Powell's Monument. He walked up to +the Rim and stared into the depths, then turned facing his sweetheart. +"Take my picture," he shouted; and while she bent over the kodak, he +uttered a prayer, threw his arms up, and leaped _backward_ into the +Canyon. He had not been able to face it and destroy the life God had +given him. Hours later rangers recovered his body, and in his pocket +found the paper on which he had written: "You wouldn't go with me to Los +Angeles, so it's goodbye!" + +Ranger West came in one day and told me that there was a lot of sickness +among the children at an Indian encampment a few miles from +Headquarters. I rode out with him to see what was the matter and found +that whooping-cough was rampant. For some reason, even though it was a +very severe winter, the Supai Indians had come up from their home in +Havasu Canyon, "Land of the Sky-Blue Water," made famous by Cadman, and +were camped among the trees on a hillside. The barefoot women and dirty +children were quite friendly, but the lazy, filthy bucks would have been +insolent had I been alone. They lolled in the "hewas," brush huts daubed +with mud, while the women dragged in wood and the children filled sacks +with snow to melt for drinking purposes. To be sure they didn't waste +any of it in washing themselves. + +They would not let me doctor the children, and several of them died; but +we could never find where they were buried. It is a custom of that tribe +to bury its members with the right arm sticking up out of the ground. In +case it is a lordly man that has passed to the Happy Hunting Ground his +pony is shot and propped upright beside the grave with the reins +clutched in the dead master's hand. + +I thought I might be able to reach a better understanding with the women +if the men were not present, so I told them to bring all the baskets +they made to my house and I would look at them and buy some of them. +Beautiful baskets were brought by the older squaws, and botched-up +shabby ones by the younger generation. Sometimes a sick child would be +brought by the mother, but there was little I could do for it outside of +giving it nourishing food. An Indian's cure-all is castor oil. He will +drink quarts of that if he can obtain it. + +The Supai women are without dignity or appeal, and I never formed the +warm friendships with them that I did with women of other tribes. They +begged for everything in sight. One fat old squaw coveted a yellow +evening gown she saw in my closet; I gave it to her, also a discarded +garden hat with big yellow roses on it. She draped the gown around her +bent shoulders and perched the hat on top of her gray tangled hair and +went away happier than Punch. In a few minutes a whole delegation of +squaws arrived to see what they could salvage. + +Wattahomigie, their chief, and Dot, his wife, are far superior to the +rest of the tribe, and when it was necessary to have any dealing with +their people the Chief acted through Wattahomigie. He had often begged +us to visit their Canyon home, and we promised to go when we could. He +came strutting into our house one summer day and invited us to accompany +him home, as the season of peaches and melons was at its height. He had +been so sure we would go that he left orders for members of the tribe to +meet us at Hilltop where the steep trail begins. We listened to him. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter IX: THE DOOMED TRIBE_[1] + + +Wattahomigie reminded us the next morning that we had promised to go +with him, so we rushed around and in an hour were ready to follow his +lead. + +It's a long trail, winding through forest and desert, up hill and down, +skirting sheer precipices and creeping through tunnels. And at the end +of the trail one stumbles upon the tiny, hidden village where the last +handful of a once powerful nation has sought refuge. Half-clad, +half-fed, half-wild, one might say, they hide away there in their +poverty, ignorance, and superstition. But oh, the road one must travel +to reach them! I hadn't anticipated Arizona trails when I so blithely +announced to White Mountain, "Whither thou goest, I will go." Neither +had I slept in an Indian village when I added, "And where thou lodgest, +I will lodge." + +We loaded our camp equipment into the Ford, tied a canvas bag of water +where it would be air-cooled, strapped a road-building shovel on the +running-board, and were on our way. + +The first few miles led through forests of piñon and pine. Gradually +rising, we reached the desert, where only cactus, sagebrush, and yucca +grew. As far as we could see the still, gray desert lay brooding under +the sun's white glare. Surely no living thing could exist in that alkali +waste. But look! An ashen-colored lizard darts across the trail, a sage +rabbit darts behind a yucca bush, and far overhead a tireless buzzard +floats in circles. Is he keeping a death watch on the grizzled old +"Desert Rat" we pass a little later? His face burned and seamed with the +desert's heat and storms, the old prospector cheerfully waved at us, as +he shared his beans and sour dough with a diminutive burro, which bore +his master's pack during the long search through the trackless desert +for the elusive gold. For us it would be suicide to leave the blazed +trail. The chances are that the circling buzzard and hungry coyotes will +be the only mourners present at his funeral. + +Now and then we passed a twisted, warped old juniper that was doubtless +digging for a foothold while Christ walked on earth. The Chief said +these old junipers vie with the Sequoias in age. Nothing else broke the +monotony of the heat and sand, until we came to the first water hole. + +It was dry now, for the summer rains were long overdue, and bogged +firmly in the red adobe mud was a gaunt long-horned cow. The Chief was +too tender-hearted to shoot her and drive on, as he knew he should. +Instead he stopped the car and got out to see if he could possibly +"extract" her. Failing to frighten her into pulling herself out, he +goaded her into a frenzy by throwing sharp stinging rocks at her. One +landed on her tender flank and she tossed her horns and struggled. The +Chief stooped, with his back to her, for another rock, just as she +pulled out. + +"Look out. She's coming for you!" I yelled. + +Straight at her rescuer she charged with an angry rumble. Round and +round a stunted piñon they raced, hot and angry. I was too helpless with +mirth to be of any aid, and the Chief's gun was in the car. Still, an +angry range cow on the prod is no joke, and it began to look serious. At +last the impromptu marathon ended by the Chief making an extra sprint +and rolling into the Ford just as her sharp horns raked him fore and +aft. + +"Well!" he exploded, and glared at me while I wiped the tears out of my +eyes. + +"Shall we drive on?" I inquired meekly. We drove on. + +A few miles along the way a piteous bawling reached us. Since even +Arizona cattle must drink sometimes, a cow had hidden her baby while she +went to a distant water hole. Three coyotes had nosed him out and were +preparing to fill up on unwilling veal. He bobbed about on his unsteady +little legs and protested earnestly. The sneaking beasts scattered at +our approach, and we drove on thinking the calf would be all right. +Looking back, however, we saw that the coyotes had returned and pulled +him down. This time the Chief's forty-five ended the career of one, and +the other two shifted into high, getting out of range without delay. The +trembling calf was loaded into the machine and we dropped him when the +main herd was reached. Here he would be safe from attack, but I have +often wondered if the mother found her baby again. At the next water +hole a lean lynx circled warily around with his eye fixed hungrily on +some wild ducks swimming too far from shore for him to reach. It seemed +that the sinister desert mothered cruel breeds. + +We had reached the "Indian Pasture" now, where the Indians kept their +ponies. A score of Supai bucks were digging a shallow ditch. Upon being +questioned they said the ditch was a mile long and would carry water to +the big dam in their pasture when the rains fell. They were finishing +the ditch just in time, for the first of the season's storms was closing +down upon us. There was an ominous stillness, then the black cloud was +rent with tongues of flame. And the rains descended--more than +descended. They beat and dashed and poured until it seemed that the very +floodgates of heaven had opened over our unfortunate heads. It was +impossible to stay in the glue-and-gumbo road, so we took to the open +prairie. Since this part of the country is well ventilated with +prairie-dog holes, we had anything but smooth sailing. + +"Stop," I shouted, trying to make myself heard above the roar of the +storm. + +"No time to stop now," was the answer. + +We pulled under a sheltering juniper and slowed up. + +"What did you want to stop there for? Don't you know we have to keep on +moving if we reach a shelter tonight?" inquired the pilot of our ship. +He had evidently been brooding over my unseemly mirth at the mad cow +episode. + +"Oh, all right," I agreed, "but the bedding-roll bounced out and I +thought you might want to pick it up." The fugitive bedding recovered, +we resumed our journey. + +The storm ended as suddenly as everything else happens in that +topsy-turvy land and in the eastern sky hung a double quivering rainbow. +I rubbed my eyes and looked again. It _was_ double! The Chief explained +that this was due to a mirage, but I placed it to the credit of +altitude, like all other Arizona wonders. + +At Hilltop we found Indian guides with trail ponies to take us the rest +of the way. They had been waiting two days for us, they said. Strolling +to the Canyon's brink I encountered a fearful odor. "What in the world +is that?" I asked Wattahomigie (which by the way means "Good Watchful +Indian"). "Him pony," was the stolid reply. "But--?" "Buck and fall over +trail," explained my Indian brave. I fled to the Chief for comfort and +change of air. He investigated and found that when Wattahomigie had +brought the ponies up from the village one had become unruly and pitched +over the Rim, landing squarely across the trail a hundred feet below. It +was the only trail, but it never occurred to the Noble Red Man to remove +the dead horse. No indeed! If it proved impossible to get around the +obstacle, why, stay off the trail until Providence cleared the way. In +other words let Nature take its course. The Chief procured a few pounds +of TNT from the Government warehouse located there, and with the aid of +that soon cleared the trail. + +"That good way to clear trail," approved Wattahomigie. "No pull, no dig, +no nothin'." I hoped no TNT would be left roaming at large for +promiscuous experiments by Wattahomigie while we were natives of his +village. + +We camped there at Hilltop that night, and after a supper of fried +sage-rabbit, corn cakes, and coffee, I rolled into the blankets and fell +asleep without worrying about the morrow. Something awakened me. I +certainly _had_ heard something. Inch by inch I silently lifted myself +from the blankets and peered into the shadows. Standing there like a +graven image was a beautiful doe with twin fawns playing around her. +Curiosity had conquered caution and she was investigating our camp. Just +then a coyote's wild cry sounded from the distance. She lifted her +sensitive nose and sniffed the air, then wheeled and glided into the +deep shadows. Other coyote voices swelled the chorus. Hundreds it seemed +were howling and shrieking like mad, when I dropped to sleep to dream I +was listening to grand opera at the Metropolitan. + +Morning dawned clear and crisp. "Will it rain today?" I asked an Indian. +"No rain; three sleeps, then rain," he told me; and this proved correct. + +Wattahomigie had provided a long-legged race horse for me to ride. "Will +he carry her all right?" the Chief asked him. Wattahomigie looked me +over carefully and one could almost see him comparing me mentally with a +vision of his fat squaw, Dottie. His white teeth flashed a smile: "Sure, +my squaw him all time ride that pony." That settled the matter. "Him +squaw" weighs a good two hundred pounds and is so enveloped in +voluminous skirts that the poor horse must feel completely submerged. + +This trail does not gradually grow steeper--it starts that way. I had +been told that all other trails we had traveled were boulevards compared +to this one, and it was well that I had been warned beforehand. My place +was near the center of the caravan, and I was divided between the fear +that I should slide down on top of the unwary Indian riding ahead and +the one that the Chief's horse directly behind would bump me off the +trail. It was a cheerful situation. The Canyon walls closed in upon us, +and the trail grew worse, if that could be possible. The firm rock gave +way to shale that slipped and slid under the feet of the horses. It was +so narrow that one slip of a hoof would send the horse crashing on the +rocks hundreds of feet beneath. Still this is the only path it has been +possible to make down to the Indian retreat. It was carved out by a past +generation when they crept down into the valley far below to make their +last futile stand. + +We rounded a point and came out near a sparkling pool of clear, inviting +water fed by a stream bursting out of what appeared to be solid rock. I +knelt to drink, but was jerked to my feet sharply by a watchful Indian. +The water is unfit to drink on account of the arsenic it contains. I +noticed that none of the hot, tired horses even dipped their dusty noses +into the pool. Safely away from this unhealthy spot we came into +Rattlesnake Canyon, so named for obvious reasons, where the riding was +much easier. Twelve miles onward and two thousand feet farther down +found us among bubbling springs and magnificent cotton woods. This is +where the Thousand Springs come into the sunlight after their rushing +journey through many miles of underground caverns. New springs broke +out from the roots of the trees and along the banks of the stream until +it was a rushing little river. + +We were evidently expected, for when we reached the village the natives +all turned out to see and be seen: brown children as innocent of +clothing as when they first saw the light; fat, greasy squaws with +babies on their backs; old men and women--all stared and gibbered at us. + +"Big Jim" and "Captain Burros" headed what seemed to be the committee of +welcome. Big Jim was clad in a full-dress suit and silk hat donated to +him by Albert, King of the Belgians, and with that monarch's medal of +honor pinned to his front, Jim was, speaking conservatively, a startling +vision. Captain Burros wore the white shirt of ceremony which he dons +only for special occasions, with none of the whiteness dimmed by being +tucked into his trousers. + +Big Jim welcomed us gravely, asking the Chief: "Did you bring my +_fermit_?" This permit, a paper granting Big Jim a camping location on +Park grounds, having been duly delivered, Jim invited us to share his +hewa, but after one look at the surroundings we voted unanimously to +camp farther up the stream among the cottonwoods. We chose a level spot +near the ruins of an old hewa. + +While supper was being prepared an aged squaw tottered into camp and sat +down. She wailed and beat her breast and finally was persuaded to tell +her troubles. It seemed that she and her husband had lived in this hewa +until his death a year or two before. Then the hewa was thrown open to +the sky and abandoned, as is their custom. She disliked to mention his +name because he might hear it in the spirit world and come back to see +what was being said about him. + +"Don't you want him to come back?" I asked idly, thinking to tease her. +Her look of utter terror was answer enough and shamed me for my +thoughtlessness. These Indians have a most exaggerated fear of death. +When one dies he and his personal belongings are taken to a wild spot +and there either cremated or covered with stones. No white man has ever +been permitted to enter this place of the dead. Any hour of the day or +night that a white man approaches, an Indian rises apparently from out +of the earth and silently waves him away. Until a few years ago the best +horse of the dead Indian was strangled and sent into the Happy Hunting +Ground with its owner, but with the passing of the older generation this +custom has been abandoned. + +From a powerful and prosperous tribe of thousands this nation has +dwindled down to less than two hundred wretched weaklings. Driven to +this canyon fastness from their former dwelling-place by more warlike +tribes, they have no coherent account of their wanderings or their +ancestors. About all they can tell is that they once lived in cliff +dwellings; that other Indians drove them away; and that then Spaniards +and grasping whites pushed them nearer and nearer the Canyon until they +descended into it, seeking refuge. They are held in low esteem by all +other Indian tribes and never marry outside of their own people. +Ridiculous and unreasonable tales about their savage customs have kept +timid explorers at a safe distance, and thus little has been learned +about them. This last fragment will pass away within a few years and all +trace will be lost. Tuberculosis claims a dozen yearly; the children are +weaklings from diseased parents and the result of intermarriage, so they +fall victims of comparatively harmless ailments. A few years ago an +epidemic of measles swept through the tribe. Poor ignorant creatures, +trying to cool the burning fever they spent hours bathing in the cold +waters of the stream flowing through the village. More than eighty died +in one week from the effects, and others that lived through it are +invalids. This was almost too much for their superstitious minds. They +were for fleeing from that accursed place, but the old men said: "Where +can we go? We have no other place but this. Let us wait here for death." +So they spent hours in dancing and ceremonies to appease the angry gods. +They have no favoring gods, only evil spirits which they must outwit or +bribe with dances. The Peach Dance which we had gone to see was for the +purpose of celebrating good crops of melons, corn, and other products +and to implore the mercy of harmful powers during the winter months. + +After the sun was out of sight we followed Wattahomigie to the scene of +the dance. There was no other light than that of the brush fires. A huge +circle of howling, chanting Indians had formed a wide ring in which a +dozen or more bucks and as many squaws were gathered. There seemed to be +no prearranged procedure. When one of the dancers would feel so +inclined, he, or she, would start a wild screeching and leaping about. +This would continue until the singer ran out of breath. Occasionally a +squaw would grow so enthused she would be quite overcome with emotion +and fall to the ground, foaming at the mouth. No notice would be taken +except to grab her by the hair and drag her to the edge of the circle. +The dance lasted until the gray dawn and was the most ghastly and weird +experience I ever went through. All I can compare it to is the nightmare +I used to have after too much mince pie. + +Safely back at our camp with a brisk fire crackling under a pot of +coffee, I began to throw off the shivering sensation, and by the time +the coffee pot was empty I was ready for new adventures. Word had gone +forth that I would buy all the baskets the squaws brought to me. I hoped +in this way to get some first-hand information about the feminine side +of affairs. Squaws and baskets and information poured in. Baskets of all +sizes and shapes were brought, some good, some bad, but I bought them +all. If I hesitated a moment over one the owner put the price down to a +few cents. Just a dime or two for a whole week's work. Time has no value +to them, and the creek banks are covered with the best willows in the +world for basket-making. The basket-making art is the only talent these +squaws have, while the bucks excel in tanning buckskin and other skins. +These they trade to the Navajo Indians for silver and blankets. Then +they race their ponies or gamble for the ownership of the coveted +blankets. How they do love to gamble! Horses, blankets, squaws--anything +and everything changes hands under the spell of the magic cards. Even +the squaws and children gamble for beads and bright-colored calico. When +a few pieces of real money are at stake, all is wild excitement. How +the black eyes snap, and how taut is every nerve! + +Their hewas are merely shelters of willow, and there is absolutely no +privacy about anything. Yet they are neither immoral nor unmoral. The +girls all marry very young. At the age of twelve or thirteen the girl is +chosen by some brave, who bargains with the father for her. A pony or +its value in buckskin will buy almost any father's favorite daughter. +But the girl is not forced to go with a lover whom she does not approve. +The marriage ceremony is not elaborate; after all preliminaries are +disposed of, the would-be bridegroom takes his blanket and moves into +the hewa of the girl's people. If two or three moons pass without any +quarrels between the young people, they move into a hewa of their own, +and thus it is known that they are married. Divorce is just as simple; +he merely sends her back to her father. An Indian brave of the Supai +tribe can have as many wives as he can buy according to the tribal law. +But since there is only about one squaw to every three braves, a man is +lucky to have any wife, and divorce is rare. When two or more braves +center their affections on one fair damsel, things are likely to happen. +But three Indian judges solemnly sit in council and settle the question. +Their solution is usually final, although two or three disgruntled +braves have journeyed to our home at El Tovar sixty miles away to appeal +to White Mountain for aid. + +The valley is fertile, and all sorts of fruits and vegetables thrive. In +fact the natives live on what they raise in their haphazard way. They +have a rude system of irrigation which carries water to every little +garden. One other thing grows in abundance there--dogs! Such a flock of +surly, mangy mongrels one would have to travel far to find. I don't know +what they live on, for I never saw one of them being fed. + +"Big sing tonight," said one of the squaws squatting by our campfire. + +"What is a sing, Dottie?" + +"Much sing and dance. Medicine man drive away bad spirit from blind +man." + +Of course we were present at the "sing," although I would never have +called it that. An old half-blind Indian afflicted with granulated +eyelids was the victim. The night was chilly, but he was clothed only in +a look of resignation. The medicine man had a shot-filled gourd, a bunch +of dried herbs, and an unlimited capacity for howling. First of all the +patient was given a "sweat bath." He was put into a little teepee made +of willows closely covered with burlap. Hot rocks were introduced and a +pan of water thrown on them. More rocks and more water went inside until +the poor Indian could stand it no longer. He came forth choking and +gasping with the perspiration running from him. Buckets of cold water +were then dashed over him and the medicine man got busy beating him over +the head with the bunch of herbs, keeping up an unearthly screeching. +This would last until morning, they said, but my interest flagged just +about the time the priest found his second wind, and I retired. + +Five beautiful waterfalls are scattered down the valley, and I was most +anxious to visit these. For some reason Wattahomigie hung back and we +had trouble in persuading him to take us there. He reluctantly +accompanied us when he saw we intended to go either with him or without. +His attitude was explained when we were well along the trail; some freak +of formation has made great sounding boxes of the Canyon, and these +gather the noises of the water and the wind and return them again in +shrieks of demoniacal laughter, barking of dogs, and sounds of talking +and singing. It is startling to say the least, and no amount of +explaining would convince Wattahomigie that it is not the revel hall of +departed Indian spirits. The sun is lost there at midday, and darkness +settles down soon after. + +We camped at Mooney Falls that night, so called on account of an +adventurous prospector of that name losing his life by falling over the +ledge there. It took ten months for his comrades to get equipment +together and recover his body, which they buried at the foot of the +falls. This place naturally holds no attraction for our Indian friends, +and we had literally to push them from under our feet. They almost sat +in the campfire, so determined were they to stay near us. + +The next day we started to Hilltop, with Big Jim and his squaw with us +as an escort of honor. Jim rode serenely along, while Mary trudged after +on foot. + +"Jim," said the Chief, "how is it that you ride and Mary walks?" + +Jim's voice was reproachfully astonished that anyone could be so dense: +"Mary, she no got um horse!" + +The Indians gathered to see us off. I looked at the faces before me. +Even the babies seemed hopeless and helpless. It is a people looking +backward down the years with no thought of the morrow. + +"Can't you get them to be more hopeful or cheerful? Won't they even try +to help themselves?" I asked Wattahomigie in desperation. He sadly shook +his head. + +"No help," he said; "plenty for today, maybe no tomorrow." + +And maybe he's right. Not many more morrows for that doomed tribe. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter X: WHERE THEY DANCE WITH SNAKES_[2] + + +A few days after our visit to Supai, Ranger Fisk dropped in. + +"Going to the Snake Dance?" he asked me. + +"What's a Snake Dance, and where is it?" + +"Oh, it's over in the Hopi Reservation, and the crazy redskins hop +around with rattlesnakes in their mouths so it'll rain." + +"I don't believe _that_. I'm going over and ask Joe about it," I +replied, indignant that Charlie would try to tell me anything so +improbable. + +I returned pretty soon from my visit to Joe, who is Chief of the Hopi +Indians. He made his home with the Spencers at the Hopi House, and we +were tried and true friends. + +"What did he say?" Both the Chief and Ranger Fisk hurled the question at +me. + +"He said rattlesnakes are their brothers and they carry messages to the +rain gods telling them of the need for rain in Hopi land. He didn't want +to tell me much about it. White Mountain, let's go. _Please!_" + +So we went. But before we started I managed to gather a little more +information about the yearly ceremony that is held in the Painted Desert +country. Joe told me that the Government at Washington was opposed to +their Snake Dance. He told me to bear in mind that water is the very +breath of life to the desert dwellers, and that while his people did not +like to oppose the agents placed there by the Government they certainly +intended to continue their dance. + +We loaded the flivver with food and water, since we knew our welcome +would be a shade warmer if we did not draw on the meager water supply in +the Reservation. We dropped down to Flagstaff, and there on every street +corner and in every store and hotel the Hopi Snake Dance was the main +subject of conversation. It seemed that everybody was going! + +We left the main road there and swung off across the desert for the Hopi +villages, built high on rocky mesas overlooking the surrounding country. +It was delightful during the morning coolness, but all too soon the sun +enveloped us. We met two or three Navajo men on their tough little +ponies, but they were sullen and refused to answer my waves to them. +While we repaired a puncture, a tiny Navajo girl in her full calico +skirt and small velvet basque drove her flock of sheep near and shyly +watched us. I offered her an apple and she shied away like a timid +deer. But candy was too alluring. She crept closer and closer, and then +I got sorry for her and placed it on a rock and turned my back. She lost +no time in grabbing the sweet and darting back to her flock. + +The road was badly broken up with coulees and dry washes that a heavy +rain would turn into embryo Colorados. I found myself hoping that the +Snake Dance prayer for rain would not "take" until we were safely back +over this road. + +Evening found us encamped at the foot of the high mesa upon which was +built the Hopi village where the dance would be held this year. Close +beside was the water hole that furnished the population with a scant +supply. It was a sullen, dripping, seeping spring that had nothing in +common with our gushing, singing springs of the Southern mountains. The +water was caught in a scooped-out place under the cliff, crudely walled +in with stones to keep animals away. Some stray cattle, however, had +passed the barrier and perished there, for their bones protruded from +the soft earth surrounding the pool. It was not an appetizing sight. +Rude steps were cut in the rocky trail leading to the pueblo dwellings +above two miles away, from whence came the squaws with big ollas to +carry the water. This spring was the gossiping ground for all the female +members of the mesa. They met there and laughed and quarreled and +slandered others just as we white women do over a bridge table. + +I found myself going to sleep with my supper untasted, and leaving White +Mountain to tidy up I went to bed with the sand for a mattress and the +stars for a roof. Some time in the night I roused sufficiently to be +glad that all stray rattlers, bull snakes, and their ilk were securely +housed in the kivas being prayed over by the priests. At dawn we +awakened to see half a score of naked braves dash by and lose themselves +in the blue-shadowed distance. While we had breakfast I spoke of the +runners. + +"Yes," said the Chief, "they are going out to collect the rattlesnakes." + +"Collect the rattlesnakes! Haven't they been garnered into the fold +yet?" + +"No, today they will be brought from the north, tomorrow from the west, +next day from the south, and last from the east." He glanced at me. +"Provided, of course, that they don't show up here of their own accord. +I _have_ heard that about this time of year every snake within a radius +of fifty miles starts automatically for the Snake Dance village." + +"Well, _I_ shall sleep in the car tomorrow night and the next night and +the next one, too." + +"Where will you sleep tonight?" + +"I'll not sleep. I intend to sit on top of the machine and see if any +snakes do come in by themselves. Not that I'm afraid of snakes," I +hastened to add; "but I'd hate to delay any pious-minded reptile +conscientiously bent on reaching the scene of his religious duties." + +We solved the difficulty by renting a room in one of the pueblo houses. + +We followed the two-mile trail up the steep cliff to Walpi and found +ourselves in a human aerie. Nobody knows how many centuries have passed +since this tribe first made their home where we found them now. Living +as they do in the very heart of a barren, arid waste, they control very +little land worth taking from them and have therefore been unmolested +longer than they otherwise would have been. They invite little attention +from tourists except during the yearly ceremonial that we had come to +witness. What _is_ this Snake Dance? The most spectacular and weird +appeal to the gods of Nature that has ever been heard of! + +To gain an understanding of what rain means to these Indians we had only +to live in their village the few days preceding the dance. They are +compelled to exist on the water from winter's melting snow and the +annual summer showers, which they catch in their rude cisterns and water +holes. One's admiration for this unconquerable tribe is boundless, as +the magnitude of their struggle for existence is comprehended. Choosing +the most inaccessible and undesirable region they could find in which to +make a determined and successful stand against the Spanish and the hated +friars, they have positively subjugated the desert. Its every resource +is known and utilized for their benefit. Is there an underground +irrigation that moistens the soil, they have searched it out and thrust +their seed corn into its fertile depths. The rocks are used to build +their houses; the cottonwood branches make ladders and supports for the +ceilings; the clay is fashioned into priceless pottery; grasses and +fiber from the yucca turn into artistic baskets under their skillful +fingers. Every drop of water that escapes from the springs nourishes +beans and pumpkins to be stored away for winter use. Practically every +plant on the desert is useful to them, either for their own needs or as +food for their goats and burros. + +We knew and were known by many of the younger members of the tribe who +had visited at the Grand Canyon, so we found a warm welcome and ready +guides in our stroll around the village. + +The Hopi Indians are friendly and pleasant. They always respond to a +greeting with a flashing smile and a cheery wave of the hand. This is +not the way the sullen Navajos greet strangers. We saw many of that +nomad tribe walking around the Hopi village. They were just as curious +as we were about this snake dance. + +"Do the Navajos believe your dance will make the rain come?" I asked a +young Hopi man who was chatting with the Chief. + +"Oh, yes. They believe." + +"Well, why don't you Hopis make them pay for their share of the rain you +bring. It falls on their Reservation." That was a new thought to the +Hopi and we left him staring over the desert, evidently pondering. I +hope I didn't plant the seed that will lead to a desert warfare! + +I watched with fascinated eyes the antics of round, brown babies playing +on the three-story housetops. I expected every instant that one would +come tumbling off, but nobody else seemed to worry about them. On one +housetop an aged Hopi was weaving a woolen dress for his wife. What a +strange topsy-turvy land this was--where the men do the weaving and the +wives build the houses. For the women do build those houses. They are +made from stone brought up from the desert far below, and then they are +thickly plastered with a mixture of adobe and water. Many families live +in the same pueblo, but there are no openings from one room to another. +Each house has its own entrance. There are generally three stories to +each pueblo, the second one set back eight or ten feet on the roof of +the first, and the third a like distance on the top of the second. This +forms a terrace or balcony where many household duties are performed. + +I noticed that one pueblo was completely fenced in with head and foot +pieces of ornate iron beds! Evidently the Government had at some time +supplied each family with a bed and they had all passed into the hands +of this enterprising landscape engineer. The houses we peeped into were +bare of furniture with the exception of a Singer sewing machine. I +venture to say there was one in every home up there. Many family groups +were eating meals, all sitting in a circle around the food placed in +dishes on the floor. It was difficult to see what they were serving, on +account of the swarms of flies that settled on everything around. I saw +corn on the ear, and in many places a sort of bean stew. Where there was +a baby to be cared for, the oldest woman in the family sat apart and +held it while the others ate. One old grandmother called my attention to +the child she had on her lap. He was a big-eyed, shrunken mite, strapped +flat to his board carrier. The day was broiling hot, but she motioned me +to touch his feet. "Sick," she said. His tiny feet were like chunks of +ice. It was a plain case of malnutrition, and what could I do to help, +in the few days I was to be there? + +Many of the school boys and girls from boarding-schools were home for +vacation, but they knew little or nothing about the meaning of the +different dances and ceremonies that were going on in a dozen +underground kivas in the village. One pretty maiden with marvelous +masses of gleaming black hair volunteered to help us interview her +uncle, an old Snake Priest, about his religion. We found "Uncle" +lounging in the sunshine, mending his disreputable moccasins. He was not +an encouraging subject as he sat there with only a loin cloth by way of +haberdashery. He welcomed us as royally, however, as if he wore a king's +robes, and listened courteously while the girl explained our errand. + +If there is a more difficult feat in the world than extracting +information from a reluctant Indian I have never come across it. We gave +up at last, and waited to see what was going to happen. + +The exact date of the dance is determined by the Snake Priest, and +announced from the housetops nine days before it takes place. The +underground "kivas" are filled with the various secret orders, +corresponding to our lodges, going through their mystic ceremonies. From +the top of the ladder that extends above the kiva opening, a bunch of +turkey feathers hung, notifying outsiders that lodge was in session and +that no visitors would be welcome. + +What candles and a cross mean to good Catholics, feathers mean to a +Hopi. Flocks of turkeys are kept in the village for the purpose of +making "bahos," or prayer sticks. These little pleas to spirits are +found stuck all over the place. If a village is particularly blessed, +they have a captive eagle anchored to a roof. And this bird is +carefully fed and watered in order that its supply of feathers may not +fail. + +Days before the dance, the young men are sent out to bring in the +snakes. Armed with a little sacred meal, feathers, a long forked stick, +and a stout sack, they go perhaps twenty miles from the village. When a +snake is located dozing in the sun, he is first sprinkled with the +sacred meal. If he coils and shows fight the ever trusty feather is +brought into play. He is stroked and soothed with it, and pretty soon he +relaxes and starts to crawl away. Quick as a flash he is caught directly +behind the head and tucked away in the sack with his other objecting +brethren. Every variety of snake encountered is brought in and placed in +the sacred kiva. + +The legend on which they so firmly base their belief in snake magic is +this: + +An adventurous Hopi went on a journey to find the dwelling-place of the +Rain God, so that he might personally present their plea for plenty of +showers. He floated down the Colorado until he was carried into the +Underworld. There he met with many powerful gods, and finally the Snake +God taught him the magic of making the rain fall on Hopi fields. They +became fast friends, and when the Hopi returned to his home the Snake +God presented him with his two daughters, one for a wife to the Hopi's +brother, who belonged to the Antelope Clan, and the other to become his +own bride. When the weddings took place all the snake brothers of the +brides attended, and a great dance was made in their honor. Since that +time a yearly dance and feast is held for the snakes, and they then +descend to their Snake God father and tell him the Hopis still need +rain. + +While the men garner snakes and perform in the kivas, the women are not +idle. Far from it! Pottery-makers are busy putting the last touches of +paint on their pottery, and basket makers add the last row of weaving to +the baskets. These wares are displayed in every doorway and window, +where they are most likely to catch the tourist eye. The best specimens +are not put out for sale. I believe the attitude is, "Why place pearls +before swine?" + +Houses are swept, and new plaster is applied inside and out. The girls +chatter over their grinding stones, where they crush the meal for making +"piki." Others mix and bake this piki, and it is piled high on flat +baskets. It is made of cornmeal and water, and is baked on hot flat +stones. The stone is first greased with hot mutton tallow, then the cook +dips her fingers into the mixture and with one swift swipe spreads it +evenly over the scorching surface. How they escape blistered fingers is +always a marvel to me. + +Squaws are wearily climbing the steep trail with heavy ollas of water on +their backs, held there by a shawl knotted around their foreheads. +Others pass them going to the spring, where they sit and gossip a while +before starting back with their burdens. It takes about the last of the +hoarded water to prepare for the dance, since religion demands that +every house and street be sprinkled and each and every Hopi must have +his yearly bath and shampoo. + +I found a pretty girl having her hair put up in squash blossoms for the +first time. Her mother told me she was ready to choose her husband now, +and that the hairdress would notify the young braves to that effect. In +Hopi land the girl chooses her own husband, proposes, and then takes him +to live in her house. If she tires of him she throws his belongings out, +and _he_ "goes back to mother!" After the Snake Dance my little girl +would make her choice. I tried to get advance information, but she +blushed and giggled like any other flapper. + +The old men were going to and from the planting grounds, many miles away +in the valley. They went at a sort of dog trot, unless one was rich +enough to own a burro; in that case it did the dog trotting. After the +fields are planted, brush shelters are built and the infirm members of +the tribe stay there to protect the fields from rabbits and burros. Who +could blame a hungry little burro for making away with a luscious hill +of green corn in the midst of a barren desert? And yet if he is caught +he has to pay, literally--one of his ears for the ear of corn he has +eaten. Very few Hopi burros retain their original couple of ears. + +The agents say that the time and strength consumed by the Indians in +going to and from their fields, and in carrying water up to the village, +could better be spent cultivating the crops. Therefore, many attempts +have been made to move the Hopis from their lofty homes on the crags to +Government houses on the level below. But they steadfastly refuse to be +moved. + +Stand at the mesa edge and look out across the enchanting scene. To the +far south the snow-crowned San Francisco peaks rear their lofty heights. +To the north and east the sandy desert stretches away in heart-breaking +desolation, relieved only by the tiny green patches of peach trees and +corn fields. The blazing sun beats down appallingly. A purple haze +quivers over the world. But evening comes, and as the sun drops out of +sight a pink glow spreads over the eastern sky, giving a soft radiance +to the landscape below. Soon this desert glow fades, and shadows creep +nearer and nearer, until one seems to be gazing into the sooty depths of +a midnight sea. Turn again toward the village. Firelight darts upward +and dies to a glow; soft voices murmur through the twilight; a carefree +burst of laughter comes from a group of returned school children. + +It suddenly dawns on one that this is the home of these people, their +home as it was their fathers' and their fathers' home before them. They +are contented and happy. Why leave their sun-kissed, wind-swept heights, +seven thousand feet high, for the scorching desert below? + +The village was seething at the first hint of dawn on the day of the +actual snake dance. Crowding the dizzy mesa edges were masses of Indians +and whites drawn there for the ceremony. Somewhere, far below, through +the desert dawn, a score of young men were running the grilling race to +reach the village. The first to arrive would secure the sacred token +bestowed by the Head Priest. This would insure fruitful crops from his +planting next year and, perhaps more important, the most popular girl in +the village would probably choose him for a husband. We stood near our +squash-blossom girl, and the progress of the race was written on her +face. I knew her choice was among the runners, and when the first one to +arrive darted, panting, up to the priest and grasped the token, I knew +who was her choice! + +The white visitors spent the forenoon strolling around the mesa, tasting +Hopi food, feeding candy to the naked, roly-poly babies, or bargaining +with visiting Navajos for rugs and silver jewelry. French, Spaniards, +Mexicans, Germans, Americans, and Indians jostled each other +good-naturedly. Cowboys, school teachers, moving-picture men, reporters, +missionaries, and learned doctors were all there. One eminent doctor +nudged the Chief gleefully and displayed a small flask he had hidden +under his coat. I wondered if he had fortified himself with liquor in +case of snakebite. He surely had! And how? He had heard for years of the +secret antidote that is prepared by the Snake Priest and his wife, to be +used all during the nine days the snakes are being handled. He traveled +there from Chicago to secure a sample of that mixture. He found the +ready ear of a Hopi youth, who supplied him with a generous sample in +return for five dollars. The doctor was satisfied, for the time being, +and so was the mischief-loving kid. He told us a few minutes later that +he had sold seven such samples on the Q.T. and that he was going to have +to mix up another brew! "What are you selling them?" I asked, trying to +be as stern as possible. "Water we all washed in," he said, and we both +had a good laugh. + +At noon the snakes were taken from the big jars and washed in other +ollas of water. This is a matter of politeness. Since the snake brothers +cannot wash themselves, it must be done for them. + +The middle of the afternoon found the crowd choosing places of vantage +for the Snake Dance, which would begin just before sundown and last +perhaps half an hour. Owners of houses were charging a dollar a seat on +their roofs, and they could have sold many more seats had there been +room for them. + +Scarcely a person seemed to realize that they were there to witness a +religious ceremony and that to the Indians it was as sacred as could be +any High Church service. Shouting and cheering, they waited for the +dancers to appear. + +Finally a naked Indian, painted white and black and red, with a lot of +strung shells draped over his chest, appeared, carrying the olla of +snakes. These he deposited in a hut built of willow boughs with a +bearskin for a door. + +Following him came twenty priests painted as he was, each with a loin +cloth and a coyote skin hanging from the cloth behind. These went around +the circle seven times, which seems to be the mystic number used in all +these ceremonies. They chanted a weird, wordless tune all the time. Then +they gathered in front of the kiva, where the snakes could be heard +keeping up a constant dull rattling, and chanted this same tune seven +times, stamping on the boards that covered the opening to the +Underworld, in order that the gods down there might know they were on +the job. One priest had a piece of board on the end of a strong string +and every so often he would step out in front of the others and whirl +and whiz that board around until it wailed like a lost soul. _That_ was +the wind before the rain! + +A priest entered the snake kiva and passed a snake out to a priest +dancer. The dancer placed this big rattler in his mouth and began the +circle. Close beside him danced a companion called the "hugger." This +protecting Indian kept one arm around the dancer's shoulders and his +other hand occupied with a bunch of feathers with which he kept the +snake's head from coming too close to the dancer's face. Entirely around +the ring they went until the starting-place had been reached, when, with +a quick, sharp jerk of his head, the dancer threw the snake into the +center of the plaza. It lay there coiled, sputtering, and rattling in +rage for a moment, then started to glide away. Quick as a flash a +"gatherer" snatched him up and twirled him around his arm. + +As soon as the first dancer was rid of his snake he went for another, +and we noticed that he was always given rattlers. Some of the other +priests had thin, nervous whip snakes; some had big, sluggish bull +snakes; but at least eighty per cent of the snakes were active, angry +rattlers. The first dancer was an old man, gray-headed, and rather +stooped. He had a poor hugger, for at least three times during the dance +the hugger let a rattler strike the old priest. Once the priest flinched +with pain and let the snake loose from his mouth. It hung on to his +cheek with its fangs firmly implanted, and at last he tore him loose +with both hands. The blood spurted from the wound, and a Hopi man beside +me made a nervous clucking sound. + +"Will he die from that bite?" I asked the Hopi. + +"I think not. Maybe. I don't know." And I'm sure he didn't know any more +about it than I did. But the old fellow continued with his dancing as if +nothing had happened. At last about eighty snakes had been danced with +and were now writhing, animated bouquets in the hands of the gatherers. +A squaw came out and made a circle of sacred meal. Into this all the +snakes were dumped, and more meal was sprinkled on them. Then each +carrier, of which there were four, gathered all the snakes he could +grasp by thrusting his arms into the squirming mass, and one carrier +departed in each direction. We watched one running swiftly down the +cliff until he reached the level desert, where he dumped his cargo, and +came back to the plaza. There he and his other returned companions lined +up on the edge of the mesa and drank a big draught of the secret +preparation prepared by the Snake Priest and his wife. Then they let +nature take its course. Such a heaving, vomiting set of redskins you +never saw! + +This little chore attended to, they removed their paint and prepared to +join in the feast and dancing that would last through the night. + +Before I left I hunted up the old Snake Priest and pressed him for an +explanation of why the snake bites did not harm them. This is what he +told me. + +"We do not extract the fangs. We do not cause the snakes to bite at +things and exhaust their poison. We do not stupefy them with drugs as +you could well see. But we do cleanse the priests so thoroughly that the +poison cannot take hold. For nine days they fast, partaking of no food, +and only of herb drinks prepared by our wise ones. They have many sweat +baths and get the harmful fluids out of their blood. They have +absolutely no fear of the snakes, and convey to them no nervousness or +anger. Just before the dance they have a big drink of the herb brew, and +they are painted thickly with an ointment that contains herbs that kill +snake poison. Then after the dance, the emetic. That is all." + +"How many of your tribe know of this secret preparation?" + +"Only two. Myself and my squaw. Should I die my squaw tell the secret to +my son. When my squaw die he teach _his_ squaw." + +Probably because this dance is staged at the time of year the rains are +due in Arizona, it is seldom that twenty-four hours elapse after the +dance before a downpour arrives. Hopi Snake Priests are good weather +prophets! + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter XI: THE TERRIBLE BADGER FIGHT_ + + +When winter ends, spring comes with a rush at the Canyon, and flowers +pop up over night. They follow the melting snow until the hills are +covered with flaming paintbrushes and tender blue lupine. Greasewood and +manzanita put out fragrant, waxy blossoms, and wild pinks and Mariposa +lilies hedge the trails. + +Encouraged by the glorious display of wild flowers, I planned, with more +enthusiasm than judgment, to have a real flower garden beside our new +house. + +I built a low rock wall around the space I had selected, and piled it +full of rich black loam as fine as any green-house could afford. Father +had sent seeds from the old garden at home, and various friends had +contributed from their gardens in the East. These seeds had been planted +in boxes which I kept near the stove until frost was gone. They were +full of promising plants. Hollyhocks, larkspur, pansies, and foxglove +were ready to transplant, when a terrible catastrophe occurred--a little +neighbor girl called on me, and, finding me gone, was right peeved. She +entertained herself by uprooting my posies. With a complete thoroughness +she mixed plants and dirt together, stirring water into the mixture with +my trowel. If her grown-up cake-making is done as conscientiously as was +that job, she'll be a wonderful pastry cook! I discovered the mischief +while it was still fresh, and out of the wreckage salvaged a few brave +seedlings. They pouted awhile before they took heart, and root, but +finally perked up again. Time healed their wounds and if an ambitious +squirrel hadn't been looking for a place to hide a nut I might still +have taken prizes in the state fair. As it was, only a very few sturdy +plants lived to grace the garden. They flourished, and I had begun to +look in their direction without crossing my fingers when a hungry cow +and her yearling boy appeared on the scene. + +"Help yourself, son!" Ma cow said, suiting her actions to the advice +given. + +Midsummer found a lonely cactus and a horned toad blooming in my garden. + +The weather got hotter and more hot, and my bird bath was duly +appreciated by the feathered population. They gathered there in flocks, +and the news went far and wide that water was to be had at the Chief's +house. All the birds that had been fed during the winter brought their +aunts, uncles, and cousins seventy times seven removed, until all I had +to do was lie in my hammock and identify them from a book with colored +plates. + +White Mountain's special pet was a tiny chickadee. This fragile little +speck of birddom fluttered into the house one stormy day, and the Chief +warmed it in his hands and fed it warm milk and crumbs. From that day on +it belonged, brave soul and wee body, to him. As the days grew warmer it +spent its time somewhere in the forest, but at mealtime when the Chief +came home all he had to do was step outside the door and whistle. Out of +the sky a diminutive atom would hurl itself downward to light on his +outstretched palm. While we ate it would perch on White Mountain's +shoulder and twitter and make soft little noises in its throat, now and +then coming across to me but soon returning to its idol. There was +something so touching in the confidence of the helpless bird, it brought +a tight feeling into one's throat. + +At the height of the drought a national railroad strike was called, and +for a few weeks things looked serious for us poor mortals stranded a +hundred miles from our water supply. Life took a backward leap and we +lived as our forefathers did before us. No water meant no light except +oil lamps, and when the oil supply failed we went to bed at dark. +Flashlights were carefully preserved for emergencies. We learned that +tomato juice will keep life in the body even if it won't quench thirst. + +There was one well four miles away, and rangers were stationed there to +see that nothing untoward happened to that supply. The water was drawn +with a bucket, and it was some job to water all the park animals. +Visitors were at that time barred from the Park, but one sage-brusher +managed to get in past the sentry. He camped at Headquarters and sent +his ten-year-old boy walking to Rowe Well to fill a pail with water and +carry it back. Just before dark that night the Chief and I coming in +from Hilltop met the little fellow, courageously struggling along eight +miles from Headquarters and getting farther away every step. His bucket +was leaky, and little of the precious water remained. We took him back +to the well again, filled his bucket, and delivered him to his father. +The lad pulled a dime from his pocket and extended it toward the Chief. + +"You keep it, son," said White Mountain. + +"Better take it, Mister. You hauled me quite a ways." + +The Chief leaned toward him confidentially. "You see it's like this. I +work for the Government and Uncle Sam doesn't like for us to take tips." + +And so the matter rested. The boy had discharged his obligation like a +gentleman. He didn't know he had offered the Chief Ranger a dime for +saving his life. + +A few stray I. W. W.'s ("I Won't Works," the rangers called them) came +in to see that nobody did anything for the Santa Fe. Of course the +rangers were put on for guard duty around the railroad station and power +house, day and night, and the fact that they protected the railroad's +property at odd hours did not relieve them from their own regular duties +the rest of the time. For weeks they did the work of three times their +actual number, and did it cheerfully. It finally became necessary to +import Indians from the Navajo Reservation to help with the labor around +the car yard and the boiler yard. These could hardly be described as +having a mechanical turn of mind, but they were fairly willing workers, +and with careful supervision they managed to keep steam up and the +wheels turning. The shop foreman, however, was threatened with apoplexy +a dozen times a day during their term of service. + +When it seemed that we just couldn't endure any more, some boss +somewhere pulled a string and train service was resumed. This brought in +a mass of tourists, and the rangers were on the alert again to keep them +out of messes. + +One day as the Chief and I were looking at some picturegraphs near the +head of Bright Angel Trail we saw a simple old couple wandering +childlike down the trail. + +"You mustn't go far down the trail," advised White Mountain. "It's very +hot today, and you would not be able to make the return trip. It's lots +harder coming back, you know." + +The old folks smiled and nodded, and we went on home. About midnight the +phone rang, and the Chief groaned before he answered it. A troubled +voice came over the wire. + +"My father and mother went down the trail to the river and haven't come +back. I want the rangers to go and find them," said their son. + +"In the morning," replied the Chief. + +"Right _now_!" ordered the voice. + +"I, myself, told your father and mother not to go down there. They went +anyway. They are probably sitting on a rock resting, and if so they are +safe. If they are not on the trail the rangers could not find them, and +I have no right to ask my men to endanger their lives by going on such a +wild-goose chase." + +The son, a middle-aged man, acted like a spoiled child. He threatened +and blustered and raved until the Chief hung up the receiver. At dawn +the rangers went after the two old babes in the wood and found them +creeping slowly up the trail. + +"Ma give out," puffed the husband. + +"Pa was real tuckered hisself," explained Ma. "But we had a nice time +and we'll know to do what we're told next time." She was a game old +sport. Son was speedily squelched by Ma's firm hand, and the adventure +ended. Ma confessed to me that she had sat through the night in deadly +fear of snakes, catamounts, and other "varmints," but, with a twinkle in +her eye: "Don't you dare tell them men folks I was a-scairt!" I knew +just how she felt. + +Everything was up in the air over the Fourth of July celebration that we +intended to stage. It was to be a combination of Frontier Days, Wild +West Show, and home talent exhibition. Indians came from the various +reservations; cow-hands drifted in from the range; tourists collected +around the edges; the rangers were there; and every guide that could be +spared from the trail bloomed out in gala attire. We women had cooked +enough grub to feed the crowd, and there was a barrel of lemonade, over +which a guard was stationed to keep the Indians from falling in head +first. + +The real cowboys, unobtrusive in their overalls and flannel shirts, +teetered around on their high-heeled tight boots and gazed open-mouthed +at the flamboyance of the Fred Harvey imitations. Varied and unique +remarks accompanied the scrutiny. Pretty soon they began to nudge each +other and snicker, and I saw more than one of them in consultation with +the rangers. I felt in my bones that mischief was brewing. + +The usual riding and roping and tying stunts were pulled off, and in the +afternoon the Indians were challenged to race horses with the white +boys. The race was for half a mile and back, around the curve of a +hillside. Off they went amid the wildest war-whoops and cowboy yells I +ever heard. The Indians had the advantage, since they burdened their +mounts with neither saddle nor bridle. Stretched flat along the pony's +back, the rider guided him by knee pressure and spurred him to victory +by whistling shrilly in a turned back ear. I was amused to see how the +wily Indians jockeyed for the inside of the track, and they always got +it too. Not a white man's horse won a dollar in the race. It might have +been different, probably would have, in an endurance race, for Indian +horses are swift only in short runs. They never have grain, and few of +them have as much water as they need. + +Just before the sports ended, White Mountain announced that some of the +cowboys had brought a badger into Headquarters with them and that they +had another one located. If they succeeded in capturing it, there would +be a badger fight at the Fred Harvey mess hall that night--provided no +gambling or betting was done. Since the show was to be put on by the +cowboys, they themselves should have the honor of picking the men +fortunate enough to hold the ropes with which the badgers would be tied. +Among the rangers broke out a frenzied dispute as to which ones should +be chosen. That was more than the guides could stand for. No ranger +could put that over on _them_. They pushed in and loudly demanded their +rights from the owners of the fightin' badgers. In fair play to both +sides, Frank Winess was chosen from the ranger force and a sheik +stage-driver, newly arrived, represented Fred Harvey. The guides were +forced to be satisfied with this arrangement. We disbanded to meet at +seven for the fight. In case the other badger made good his escape we +could still have a look at the one already in captivity and the evening +would not be wasted. + +"Better wear your riding boots," Ranger Winess advised me. "Badgers +scratch and fight like forty, and you know your failing when it comes to +getting into the middle of a bad fix." I didn't reply to this, but I put +on my high boots. + +At seven we reached the scene of battle. I was not entirely pleased with +the idea of letting two frantic animals scratch each other to death, but +the Chief seemed quite serene and I had the utmost confidence in his +kindness to dumb animals. Two or three hundred onlookers, including +tourists, were circled around an open space, which was lighted with +automobile headlights. Under each of two big wooden boxes at opposite +sides of the circle, a combatant lay. + +"Stand well back," ordered the Chief. And the crowd edged away. "Hey, +you, Billy, I said no betting!" Billy Joint hastily pocketed the roll of +bills he had been airing. + +"What's wrong, Frank?" For Ranger Winess limped into the ring, flinching +at every step. + +"Nothin', Chief," bravely trying to cover up the pain with a grin. + +"I asked you what's the matter!" + +"Well, gee whiz, if you have to know everything, one of them broncs +piled up with me this afternoon, and I busted my knee." + +The Chief felt sorry for Frank, because he knew how his heart was set on +the sport in hand. + +"Sorry, Winess, but you'll have to step out and let Charley take your +place." + +Ranger Fisk began to protest: "Gee, Chief, I ain't a fightin' man. I +don't hanker to hold that tearing varmint." Frank was too crushed to say +anything. But Shorty--in the foremost ranks stood Shorty! No guide so +wonderfully chapped, so brightly handkerchiefed, so amazingly shirted, +or so loudly perfumed as Shorty. He had a tourist girl on his manly arm +and he longed for worlds to conquer. + +He advanced with a firm and determined tread. "Look here, Chief Ranger. +Your man has been disqualified. The rangers have had their chance. It's +up to us guides now. I demand the right to enter this ring." + +The Chief considered the matter. He looked at the rangers, and after a +few mutters they sullenly nodded. + +"All right, Shorty. But you are taking all responsibility. Remember, +whatever happens you have made your own choice. Charley, you and Frank +look out for Margie. You know how foolish she is. She's likely to get +all clawed up." + +I was mad enough to bite nails into tacks! Foolish! Look out for _me_! +He was getting awfully careful of me all of a sudden. I jerked my arm +loose from Ranger Fisk when he tried to lead me back from the front, +and he reluctantly stayed beside me there. + +The pretty stage-driver was nervous. With his gloved hand he kept +smoothing his hair back and he shifted from one foot to the other, while +he grasped the rope firmly. As for Shorty, he was entirely unconcerned, +as became a brave bold man. He merely traded his sheepskin chaps for a +pair of silver-studded leather ones. Then he clamped his wide sombrero +firmly on his head and declared himself ready. + +"Jerk quick and hard when we raise the boxes," the referee directed. "If +they see each other at once, you boys aren't so liable to get bit up." + +"Jerk them out," bellowed Frank. + +They jerked. The onlookers gasped; then howled! then _roared_!! + +The gladiators fled! Nor stood on the order of their going. + +In the middle of the ring, firmly anchored to the ropes, were two +articles of crockery well known to our grand-mothers in the days when +the plumbing was all outside. + +So ended the Glorious Fourth. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter XII: GRAND CANYON UPS AND DOWNS_[3] + + +I was busy baking pies one morning when White Mountain sauntered into +the kitchen and stood watching me. "How soon can you be ready to start +across the Canyon?" he asked, as carelessly as though I had not been +waiting for that priceless moment nearly two years. + +"How soon?" I was already untying my apron. "Right _now_!" + +"Oh, not that sudden. I mean can you be ready to start in the morning?" + +And with no more ceremony than that my wonderful adventure was launched. +Long before dawn the next morning I was up and dressed in breeches, wool +shirt, laced boots, and a wide felt hat, and felt like a full-fledged +"dude." The Chief had insisted that I should ride a mule, but I had my +own notions about that and "Supai Bob" was my mount. This was an Indian +racing horse, and the pride of Wattahomigie's heart, but he cheerfully +surrendered him to me whenever I had a bad trail to ride. He was high +from the ground, long-legged, long-necked and almost gaunt, but gentle +and sure-footed. + +We left El Tovar before anybody was stirring and while the depths of the +Canyon were still lost in darkness. At the head of the trail I +involuntarily pulled up short. "Leave hope behind all ye who enter +here," flashed through my brain. Dante could have written a much more +realistic _Inferno_ had he spent a few days in the Grand Canyon +absorbing local color. Far below, the trail wound and crawled, losing +itself in purple shadows that melted before the sun as we descended. The +world still slept, with the exception of a few saucy jays who flew about +us loudly claiming the heavens, the earth, and the waters beneath, +should there be any. Two hours of steady descent brought us to the base +of the red-wall limestone. In that two hours we had passed from the belt +of pine and shrub to the one of sagebrush and cactus. Half an hour +farther, and we arrived at Indian Gardens, a clump of willows and +cottonwoods shading a stream of cold bubbling water from a never-failing +spring. This little stream is full of delicious watercress, and more +than once on festive occasions a ranger had gone down and brought back a +supply to garnish the turkey. Not until I made the ride myself could I +appreciate his service. At one time this spot was cultivated by the +Havasupai Indians; hence the name. Every dude that has followed a Fred +Harvey guide down the trail remembers this God-given oasis with +gratitude. Water and shade and a perfectly good excuse for falling out +of the saddle! No flopping mule ears; no toothache in both knees; no +yawning void reaching up for one. Ten whole minutes in Paradise, and +there's always a sporting chance that Gabriel may blow his horn, or an +apoplectic stroke rescue one, before the heartless guide yells: "All +aboard." + +We filled our canteens from the spring, for this is really the last good +water until the bridge is crossed, and rode across the Tonto Trail along +the plateau for five miles, through sagebrush, cactus, and yucca. Here +and there a chuckwalla darted across the trail or a rock squirrel sat on +his haunches and scolded as we passed. Nothing broke the monotony of the +ride. At one point on the ride the trail hangs over the edge of Pipe +Creek, a mere little chasm two thousand feet deep. Anywhere else this +crevice between sheer walls of blackened, distorted, jagged rocks would +be considered one of the original Seven Wonders. Placed as it is, one +tosses it a patronizing glance, stifles a yawn, and rides on. A mile or +so along we crossed a trickle of water coming from Wild Burro Springs, +so named because the burros common to this region come there to drink. +Just as we drew rein to allow our horses to quench their thirst, the +sultry silence was shattered beyond repair. Such a rasping, choking, +jarring sound rolled and echoed back and forth from crag to crag! +"What's that?" I gasped, after I had swallowed my heart two or three +times. The Chief pointed to a rock lying a few feet away. Over the top +of this an enormous pair of ears protruded, and two big, solemn eyes +were glued on us unblinkingly. It was only a wee wild burro, but what a +large voice he owned! The thousand or more of these small gray and black +animals are a heritage from the day of the prospector. Some of them are +quite tame. One called "Bright Angel" was often utilized by tourists as +a mount while they had pictures snapped to take to the admiring family +left behind. + +We passed on across the plateau and rounded O'Neill Butte, named for +Bucky O'Neill, one of Roosevelt's Rough Riders killed at San Juan Hill, +and we suddenly came to the "sure 'nuff" jumping-off place at the edge +of Granite Gorge. One should have at least a week's warning before this +scene is thrown upon the screen. I think it was here that Irvin Cobb +tendered his resignation--effective immediately. Straight down, fifteen +hundred feet beneath one, flows the Colorado. There are no words to +describe this. One must see it for one's self. Down, down, back and +forth zigzags that trail, jumping from crag to crag and mesa to mesa, +finally running on to the mere thread suspended from wall to wall high +above the sullen brown torrent. When once started down this last lap of +the journey riverward, one finds that the trail is a great deal smoother +than that already traveled. But the bridge! Picture to yourself a +four-foot wooden road, four hundred and twenty feet long, fenced with +wire, and slung on steel cables fifty feet above a rushing muddy river, +and you will see what I was supposed to ride across. My Indian horse +stopped suddenly, planted himself firmly--and looked. I did likewise. + +"Those cables look light," I said, seeking some excuse to stay right +where I was. But the Chief calmly informed me that they were "heavy +enough." I presume he should know, having helped to carry them down that +twelve-mile trail. Pride alone prevented me from turning and fleeing +back up that steep trail like a fly up a wall. I looked at White +Mountain. He was riding serenely on, never doubting my close attendance +at his horse's heels. I told myself that I had undoubtedly reached a +bridge that _had_ to be crossed, and so I spoke firmly, or as firmly as +possible under the circumstances, to Supai Bob. No results. Bob was as +unresponsive as any other Indian when he doesn't want to "savvy." I +coaxed, I pulled, I pushed. I spanked with a board. Bob was not +interested in what was across the river. Then and there I formed a high +regard for that pony's sound judgment and will-power. At last the Chief +looked back and saw my predicament. He turned his horse loose to +continue across alone and came back over the wildly swaying bridge to +me. + +"What's the matter?" + +Just as if he couldn't well see! I glared at him and he grinned. + +"Why don't you talk to him in Supai language?" + +"Speak to him yourself," I snapped and stalked out on that heaving +horror. I never learned the details of the conversation, but a clatter +of hoofs sounded behind me and Bob anchored his nose against my +shoulder, there to remain until terra firma was regained. I worried all +the rest of the way over and back about having to get him across again, +but returning, he walked on to the bridge as if crossing it were his +life work. + +On the north end of the bridge where the cables are anchored is a +labyrinth of trails crossing and recrossing. The Chief explained that +Bright Angel, the little wild burro, had made those at a time when high +water had marooned him on that small area. While the bridge was being +built he hung around constantly, and when it was completed he was the +first animal allowed to cross it. I wonder what he thought of the +promised land he had gazed at so longingly for years. Poor Brighty fell +a victim to a tramp who refused to listen to advice, and crossed to the +North Rim after the snows had come. Perhaps he had reasons for hiding +away, but he took little Brighty from his winter home in the bottom of +the Canyon to carry his pack for him. After being snowed in for several +weeks in a cattle cabin several miles back from the Rim, Brighty died of +starvation and was eaten by the man. Brighty had plenty of friends that +miss him when they go down into the Canyon, and it will fare badly with +his murderer if any of the rangers or guides see him again. + +Beside the trail, just across the bridge, is a prehistoric ruin. When +Major Powell landed there on his first trip down the Colorado River in +1869, he found broken pottery, an old "matate" and many chipped flints, +indicating that this had been the home of an arrowmaker. The mealing +stone, or matate, can be seen at Phantom Ranch, half a mile on along the +trail. + +And just at this point of the trip we came to a tragic spot, the one +where Rees Griffith lies buried beside his own well-built trail. It had +been in the dead of winter when Rees was buried there by his friends, +and now the summer's scorching sun was streaming down on his grave. The +colorful lines of the half-breed Déprez drifted through my mind: + + And there he lies now, and nobody knows; + And the summer shines, and the winter snows, + And the little gray hawk floats aloft in the air, + And the gray coyote trots about here and there, + And the buzzard sails on, + And comes back and is gone, + Stately and still like a ship on the sea; + And the rattlesnake slides and glitters and glides + Into his rift in a cottonwood tree. + +Just that lonely and already forgotten was the resting-place of the +master trail-builder. + +It was noontime now, and all our grub, with the exception of a box of +crackers and a jar of fig jam, likewise our bedding, was far ahead on a +pack mule which had decided not to stop for lunch or dinner. Since we +were not consulted in the matter we lunched on jam and crackers and then +dined on crackers and jam. We hung the remainder of the feast in a tree +and breakfasted on it a week later on our return trip. + +When one tries to describe the trail as it was to the North Rim in those +days, words prove weak. The first twelve miles we had already traveled +are too well known to need description; the remaining twenty--all +rebuilt since that time--defy it. Sometimes the trail ran along in the +creek bed for yards and yards. This made it impassable during the spring +freshets. Arizona horses are trained to drink at every opportunity for +fear there may never be another chance, and our mounts had learned +their lesson well. They tried to imbibe at every crossing, and long +after they were loaded to the gunwales they dipped greedy noses into the +current. + +Six miles north of the river we turned aside from the main trail and +followed a path a few rods to Ribbon Falls. We had intended to spend the +night there, and I supposed we were to sleep standing up; but there was +Chollo, our prodigal pack mule, who had found a luscious patch of grass +near the Falls and decided to make it her first stopping-place. In that +manner we recovered the bedding roll. White Mountain murmured a few +sweet nothings into her innocent ear and anchored her firmly to a stake. +That didn't please her at all. She complained loudly to her wild +brethren, and they sympathized in heart-comforting brays from all points +near at hand. Our horses were given grain and turned into the grassy +cove, and supper was prepared. And while the coffee boiled we had a +refreshing swim in Nature's bathtub at the bottom of the Falls. High +above, the crystal stream bursts forth from the red cliff and falls in a +sparkling cascade seventy feet, to strike against a big rock upholstered +in softest green. Here it forms a morning-glory pool of almost icy +coolness. Hot coffee and bacon with some of White Mountain's famous +biscuits baked in a reflector tasted like a feed at Sherry's. I watched +the Chief mix his biscuits while I lay resting against the piled-up +saddles. I wondered how he intended to cook them, but managed to keep +still and find out for myself. He took a folded piece of tin from his +pack and with a few magic passes turned it into a roof-shaped structure +resting on its side on two short steel legs. Another twist of the wrist +lifted a little tin shelf into place. This contraption was set about a +yard from the glowing fire and the pan of biscuits was placed on the +shelf. As I stared at the open-work baker the biscuits puffed into +lightness and slowly turned a rich tempting brown. After we had eaten +the last one and the camp was put in order, we sat watching a fat moon +wallow lazily up from behind the Rim. Strange forms crept into sight +with the moon-rise--ruined Irish castles, fortresses hiding their dread +secrets, sculptured groups, and weird goblins. By and by a few stars +blossomed--great soft golden splashes, scattered about in an inverted +turquoise bowl. The heavens seemed almost at our fingertips from the +bottom of this deep southern gorge. + +While Bright Angel Creek murmured a soft accompaniment, the Chief told +me how it received its name. An old legend says: Among the first Spanish +explorers a small party attempted to cross the Colorado Canyon. They +wandered down on to the plateau north of the river, and there their food +and water gave out. Many hundreds of feet below them at the bottom of a +sheer precipice flowed the great river. Their leader swooned from thirst +and exhaustion. It seemed certain that death was near. Above them +towered a wall they could not surmount. Just as they were ready to throw +themselves into the river so far below, their leader revived and pleaded +with them to keep going a little longer. He said: "In my dreams I have +seen a beautiful _luminoso angelo_ with sparkling water dripping from +his pinions. He beckons us on, and promises to lead to water." They took +fresh courage and struggled on in desperation, when, lo, at their very +feet flowed a crystal stream of life-giving water. In remembrance of the +vision this stream was called "Bright Angel." Pretty as this legend is, +the bestowal of the name is now officially credited to Major Powell. + +After the story ended I crept between my blankets, and as soon as I +became sufficiently inured to the conversation between Chollo and her +sympathizers I fell asleep. But along toward morning some inquisitive +deer came in to share the grain our horses had scattered, and a big +porcupine came home from lodge, quarreling and debating with himself +about something. He stopped near us and chattered angrily about it, +permanently ending our sleep. + +After breakfast we followed the trail through more ancient ruins, into a +cottonwood grove and then on to a sandy flat. Sitting low in my saddle, +almost dozing, I revived suddenly at a never-to-be-mistaken B-u-u-z-z-z! +The horses recognized it instantly and froze in their tracks. Sibilant, +wicked, it sounded again, and then a yellow streak slid across the trail +and disappeared under a low bush. We waited, and pretty soon a +coffin-shaped head came up and waved slowly to and fro. The Chief shot +him with his forty-five and the snake twisted and writhed into the +trail, then lay still. A moment later I had the rattles in my hatband +for a souvenir. "Look out for his mate," the Chief said; but we didn't +see it, and a few days later a ranger camping there found it coiled in +his bed, and its rattles joined the ones already in my possession. + +On and on climbed the trail, growing steeper at every turn. I could have +walked with a greater degree of comfort, but the Chief said: "Ride!" So +I rode; and I mean just that. I rode every inch of that horse several +times over. What time I wasn't clinging to his tail being dragged up a +precipice, I was hanging around his neck like a limpet. One time, when +the girth slipped, both the saddle and I rode upside down under his +belly. Some time ago I saw a sloth clinging, wrong end to, to the top +bars of his cage. It brought back painful memories of when the saddle +slipped. + +When we reached the blue-wall a mighty roaring was audible. Far above, a +torrent of water from some subterranean cavern bursts from the ledge +with such force that the sound carries for miles. This is called Roaring +Springs. Getting up over the blue-wall limestone was arduous. This +limestone formation is difficult to conquer wherever it is found. Almost +straight up, clinging to the horse's mane, we climbed, stopping +frequently to let the panting animals breathe. + +As we neared the North Rim, now and then along the trail a wild rose +blossomed, and as we climbed higher we threaded a maze of sweet locust, +fern, and bracken. It was a fairyland. And then the trail topped out at +an elevation of eight thousand feet into the forest primeval. Towering +yellow pines, with feet planted in masses of flowers, pushed toward +heaven. Scattered among the rugged pines were thousands of slender aspen +trees, swaying and quivering, their white trunks giving an artificial +effect to the scene as if the gods had set a stage for some pagan drama. +Ruffed grouse strutted about, challenging the world at large. Our +horses' hoofs scattered a brood and sent them scuttling to cover under +vines and blossoms. Roused from his noonday siesta, a startled deer +bounded away. One doe had her fawn secreted near the trail and she +followed us for some distance to make sure her baby was safe. + +As we swung around a curve into an open valley, we came to a decrepit +signpost. And what do you suppose it said? Merely: "Santa Fe R. R. and +El Tovar," while a hand pointed back the way we had come. I wondered how +many travelers had rushed madly around the corner in order to catch the +Santa Fe Limited. But in those days the North Rim seemed to sprout +signs, for soon we overtook this one: + + + THE JIM OWENS CAMP + GUIDING TOURISTS AND HUNTING PARTIES A SPECIALTY + COUGARS CAUGHT TO ORDER + RATES REASONABLE + + +Of course the signing of Park lands is contrary to the policies of the +National Park Service, and after White Mountain's inspection trip, these +were promptly removed. + +At length we arrived at Jim's camp. Uncle Jim must have caught several +cougars to order, for the cabin walls were covered with pelts and +murderous-looking claws frescoed the ceiling. Uncle Jim told us that he +has caught more than eleven hundred cougars in the past twenty years. He +guided Teddy Roosevelt on his hunts in Arizona, and I doubt if there is +a hunter and guide living today that is as well known and loved by +famous men as is Jim Owens. He has retired from active guiding now, and +spends his time raising buffalo in the Rock House Valley. + +Scenery on the North Rim is more varied and beautiful than that where we +lived at El Tovar. Do you favor mountains? "I will lift up mine eyes to +the hills from whence cometh my help." Far across the Canyon loom the +snow-capped heights of San Francisco Peaks. Truly from those hills comes +help. Water from a huge reservoir filled by melting snow on their +summits supplies water to towns within a radius of a hundred miles. + +Look to the south and you see the Navajo Reservation, and the glorious, +glowing Painted Desert. If peaceful scenes cloy, and you hanker for a +thrill, drop your glance to the Colorado River, foaming and racing a +mile or so below. Sunset from this point will linger in my memory while +I live. A weird effect was caused by a sudden storm breaking in the +Canyon's depths. All sense of deepness was blotted out and, instead, +clouds billowed and beat against the jutting walls like waves breaking +on some rock-bound coast. + +Point Sublime has been featured in poems and paint until it needs little +introduction. It was here that Dutton drew inspiration for most of his +poems of Grand Canyon, weaving a word picture of the scene, +awe-inspiring and wonderful. How many of you have seen the incomparable +painting of the Grand Canyon hanging in the Capitol at Washington? The +artist, Thomas Moran, visited Point Sublime in 1873 with Major Powell, +and later transferred to canvas the scene spread before him. + +Deer and grouse and small animals were about us all the way, and I had +the pleasure of seeing a big white-tailed squirrel dart around and +around a tree trunk. This squirrel is found nowhere else. + +That evening at sunset we drove with Blondy Jensen to VT Park through +the "President's Forest." At first we saw two or three deer together, +and then we came upon them feeding like herds of cattle, literally +hundreds of them. They were all bucks. Blondy said the does were still +back in the deep woods with their fawns. We reached the Diamond Bar +Ranch just as supper was ready, and the cowboys invited us to eat. Two +big Dutch ovens were piled with live coals before the fireplace. I eyed +them with a lot of curiosity until a smiling cowboy lifted the lids for +me to peep within. One was full of simmering tender beef and the other +held biscuits just turning a delicious brown. I made up our minds then, +and we all stayed for supper. + +It was late when we started back to our camp on the Rim, and the big car +slid along at a great rate. Suddenly Blondy jammed on the brakes and +almost lost me through the windshield. An enormous full-grown deer +loomed directly in front of the headlights. There he stood, head thrown +back, nostrils distended, monarch of all he surveyed. A moment longer he +posed, then leaped away into the darkness, leaving us wondering if we +had really seen anything. + +All too soon it was time for us to start back to the South Rim, and we +made a reluctant departure. It rained on us part of the way, and +loosened rocks made the going perilous. Halfway down the steepest part +we met half a dozen loose pack mules. One of the first rules of safety +for a trail without turnouts is that no loose stock must be allowed on +it. My Indian horse chose that particular time and place to throw a fit +of temperament, and he climbed out of the way of the wild mules by +scrambling up a perpendicular rock and flattening out against the +hillside. I slid off over his tail and landed in the trail on the back +of my neck, but popped up to see what had happened to the Chief. The +pack mules were being urged on from the rear by a fool mule-skinner, and +they had crowded Tony, the Chief's mount, off the trail on to a +good-sized rock that stuck out over the brink. He stood trembling on the +rock and the Chief stood beside him on the same rock with an arm around +the scared horse's neck, talking to him in his usual slow, calm way, all +the time stroking Tony's ears and patting his neck. Inch by inch the +rock was parting from the earth holding it, and it seemed to me I would +just die of terror. White Mountain just kept on talking to the horse and +trying to coax him back into the trail. At last Tony turned an almost +human look on the Chief and then stepped back into the trail, just as +the boulder gave way and went crashing down the incline, carrying trees, +rocks, and earth with it. + +"Why didn't you let him go? Why did you just stand there like an idiot?" +I raved. The reaction was so great that I entirely lost my temper. + +"Oh, my good new saddle was on him. I couldn't let that go, you know," +said White Mountain. + +In the meantime the mules continued to mill and buck in the trail. Up +rushed Mr. Mule-Skinner. He addressed the Chief in about these words: +"Get the hell outa my way, you ---- ---- fool. Ain't you got no sense at +all?" + +We will skip the next inch or two of this narrative, and let kind +oblivion cover it as cool dusk masks the ravages of burning noon. +Anyway, this was part of a hunting outfit, including Fred Stone, bound +for the North Rim. To this day I can't see any comedy in Mr. Stone's +acting. + +Tony seemed quite unnerved by his encounter, and as we crossed the +swinging bridge he became startled at something and plunged wildly +against the wire fencing the bridge. The Chief threw out a hand to +steady himself and his ring, caught on a broken wire, cut into and +buried itself in his flesh. When we reached the south end of the bridge +we dismounted and tried to care for the painful wound, but with no +medicine or water there was little we could do. We bound it up in a +handkerchief and went on to the top, the Chief suffering agonies with +the injury and the intense heat. On top a ranger cut the flesh away and +filed the ring off. I added it to my other souvenirs. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter XIII: SISTERS UNDER THE SKIN[4]_ + + + "For the Colonel's Lady and Judy O'Grady + Are sisters under the skin!" + + +"And what of the women and children? How do they live?" I have been +asked again and again, when speaking of Indians of the Southwest. And +who isn't interested in the intimate details of the home life of our +Indian sisters? + +What of their work? Their homes? Their dress? And--most interesting to +us paleface women--what of their love affairs? + +Most of you have seen the stolid squaw, wrapped in a soiled blanket, +silently offering her wares to tourists throughout the Southwest. Does +it seem strange to you that this same stoical creature is just bubbling +over with femininity? That she loves with devotion, is torn with +passionate jealousy, and adorns herself just as carefully within her +limited means for the benefit of masculine eyes, as you do? Among +friends she sparkles, and laughs and gossips with her neighbors over a +figurative back fence just as you do in Virginia or Vermont. Just +living, loving, joyous, or sorrowing women are these brown-skinned +sisters of ours. + +Were I looking for inspiration to paint a Madonna I would turn my steps +toward the Painted Desert, and there among the Indian people I would +find my model. Indian mothers are real mothers. Their greatest passion +is mother-love. Not a pampering, sheltering, foolish love, but a great, +tender love that seeks always what is best for the child, regardless of +the mother's feelings or the child's own desires. The first years of an +Indian baby's life are very simple. Apart from being fed without having +to catch his dinner, there is not much to choose between his existence +and that of any other healthy young animal. He and his little companions +dart about in sunshine and rain, naked as little brown kewpies. I have +never seen a deformed Indian baby or one with spinal trouble. Why? +Because the mothers grow up living natural lives: they dress in +loose-fitting, sensible clothing; they wear flat-heeled shoes or +moccasins; they eat plain, nourishing food; and they walk and ride and +work until almost the minute the child is born. They take the newborn +babe to a water hole, bathe it, then strap it on a straight board with +its little spine absolutely supported. Here it spends the first six +months of its existence. + +The child's chin is bound round with a soft strip of leather, so that +its breathing is done through its nostrils; no adenoids or mouth +breathing among the Indians, and very little lung trouble as long as +they do not try to imitate the white man's ways. + +Different tribes celebrate the birth of a child in different ways. The +gift is always welcome when a little new life comes into an Indian home. +The Hopi mother rubs her baby with wood ashes so that its body will not +be covered with hair. Then a great feast is held and thank-offering +gifts are received. Each relative brings an ear of corn to the mother +and gives a name to the child. It may receive twenty or more names at +birth, and yet in later life it will choose a name for itself or be +named by its mother. + +Not so much ceremony greets the Navajo baby. Navajo mothers are far too +busy and baby additions are too frequent to get excited about. The +mother bathes herself and the newcomer in cold water, wraps him in his +swaddling clothes of calico, straps him on his board cradle, suspends it +on a limb, and goes on with the spinning or weaving that had occupied +her a few minutes before. All Indian babies are direct gifts from the +Powers That Be, and a token of said Powers' favor. A childless Indian +wife is pitied and scoffed at by her tribe. + +After a few months the child is released from his cradle prison and +allowed to tumble around the mother's loom while she weaves her +blankets. He entertains himself and learns to creep and then to walk +without any help. If there is an older child he is left in its care. It +is not unusual to see a two or three-year-old youngster guarding a still +younger one, and keeping it out of the fire or from under the hoofs of +the ponies grazing around the camp. + +As the children grow older they are trained to work. The boys watch the +flocks and help cultivate the fields, if fields there be, and the little +girls are taught the household tasks of tanning the sheep hides, drying +the meat in the sun, braiding the baskets, carding and spinning wool and +making it into rugs, shaping the pottery and painting and baking it over +the sheep-dung fires. These and dozens of other tasks are ever at hand +for the Indian woman to busy herself with. If you think for an instant +that you'd like to leave your own house and live a life of ease with the +Indian woman, just forget it. It is a life of labor and hardship, of +toil and endless tasks, from day-break until long after dark, and with +the most primitive facilities one can imagine. Only on calendars do we +see a beauteous Indian maiden draped in velvet, reclining on a mossy +bank, and gazing at her own image in a placid pool. That Indian is the +figment of a fevered artist brain in a New York studio. Should a real +Indian woman try that stunt she'd search a long way for the water. Then +she'd likely recline in a cactus bed and gaze at a medley of hoofs and +horns of deceased cows bogged down in a mud hole. Such are the +surroundings of our real Indians. + +Indian women are the home-makers and the home-keepers. They build the +house, whether it be the brush hewa of the Supai or the stone pueblo of +the Hopi. They gather the piñon nuts and grind them into meal. They +crush the corn into meal, and thresh and winnow the beans, and dry the +pumpkin for winter use. They cut the meat into strips and cure it into +jerky. They dry the grapes and peaches. They garner the acorns and store +them in huge baskets of their own weaving. They shear the sheep, and +wash, dye, spin, and weave the wool into marvelous blankets. They cut +the willows and gather sweet grasses for the making of baskets and +trays. They grind and knead and shape clay into artistic pottery and +then paint it with colors gleaned from the earth. They burn and bake the +clay vessels until they are waterproof, and they carry them weary miles +to the railway to sell them to the tourists so that their children may +have food and clothing. + +The Hopi woman brings water to the village up a mile or two of +heart-breaking trail, carrying it in great ollas set on her head or +slung on her back. She must have water to make the mush for supper, and +such trivial things as a shampoo or a bath are indulged in only just +before the annual Snake Dance. Religion demands it then! + +Where water is plentiful, however, the Indians bathe and swim daily. +They keep their hair clean and shining with frequent mud baths! Black, +sticky mud from the bottom of the river is plastered thickly over the +scalp and rubbed into the hair, where it is left for several hours. When +it is washed away the hair is soft, and gleams like the sheeny wing of +the blackbird. Root of the yucca plant is beaten into a pulp and used as +a shampoo cream by other tribes. Cosmetics are not greatly in use among +these women. They grow very brown and wrinkled at an early age, just +when our sheltered women are looking their best. This is accounted for +by the hard lives they live, exposed to the burning summer suns and +biting winter winds, and by cooking over smoky campfires or hovering +over them for warmth in the winter. + +An Indian's hands are never beautiful in an artistic sense. How could +they be? They dress and tan the sheep and deer hides; they make +moccasins and do exquisite bead work; they cut and carry the wood and +keep the fires burning. They cook the meals and sit patiently by until +the men have gobbled their fill before they partake. They care tenderly +for the weaklings among the flocks of sheep and goats. Navajo women +often nurse a deserted or motherless lamb at their own ample breasts. +They make clothes for themselves and their families, although to look at +the naked babies one would not think the dress-making business +flourished. + +But with all the duties incumbent on an Indian mother she never neglects +her children. They are taught all that she thinks will help them live +good lives. The girls grow up with the knowledge that their destiny is +to become good wives and mothers. They are taught that their bodies must +be kept strong and fit to bear many children. And when the years of +childhood are passed they know how to establish homes of their own. + +Many interesting customs are followed during courtship among the tribes. +The Pueblos, among whom are the Hopis, have a pretty way by which the +maidens announce their matrimonial aspirations. How? By putting their +soft black hair, which heretofore has been worn loose, into huge whorls +above the ears. This is called the squash-blossom headdress and +signifies maturity. When this age is reached, the maiden makes up her +mind just which lad she wants, then lets him know about it. The Hopi +girl does her proposing by leaving some cornmeal piki or other edible +prepared by her own hands at the door of the selected victim under cover +of darkness. He usually knows who has left it, and then, if "Barkis is +willin'," he eats out of the same bowl of mush with her, the medicine +man holds a vessel of water into which both dip their hands, and the +wedding ceremony is finished. He moves into the bride's house and they +presumably live happily ever afterward. However, squalls do arise +sometimes, and then the husband is likely to come home from work in the +fields or a night at the lodge and find his wardrobe done up in his +Sunday bandanna waiting on the doorstep for him. In that case all he can +do is take his belongings and "go home to mother." His wife has divorced +him by merely throwing his clothes out of her house. + +Navajo bucks purchase their wives for a certain number of sheep or +horses, as do also the Supai, Cheyenne, Apache, and other desert tribes. +There is not much fuss made over divorce among them, either. If a wife +does not like her husband's treatment of her, she refuses to cook for +him or to attend to any of her duties, and he gladly sends her back to +her father. He, like Solomon of old, agrees that "it is better to dwell +alone in the wilderness than with an angry and contentious woman." The +father doesn't mind getting her back, because he keeps the original +purchase price and will also collect from the next brave that wants to +take a chance on her; why should he worry? In a few instances braves +have been known to trade wives and throw in an extra pony or silver belt +to settle all difficulties. The missionaries are doing much to +discourage this practice and are trying to teach the Indians to marry in +a civilized manner. In case they do succeed let us hope that while the +savages embrace the marrying idea they will not emulate civilized people +in divorce matters. + +For a primitive people with all the untrained impulses and natural +instincts of animals, there is surprisingly little sexual immorality +among the tribes. It seems that the women are naturally chaste. For +there is no conventional standard among their own people by which they +are judged. If an unmarried squaw has a child, there are deploring +clucks, but the girl's parents care tenderly for the little one and its +advent makes no difference in the mother's chances for a good marriage. +Also the child does not suffer socially for its unfortunate birth, which +is more humane at least than our method of treating such children. The +children of a marriage take the mother's name and belong to her clan. +She has absolute control of them until the girl reaches a marriageable +age; then Dad collects the marriage price. + +Another thing we civilized parents might take into consideration. Indian +babies are never punished by beating or shaking. It is the Indian idea +that anything which injures a child's self-respect is very harmful. Yet +Indian children are very well-behaved, and their respect and love for +their elders is a beautiful thing. I have never seen an Indian child cry +or sulk for anything forbidden it. + +Schools for Reservation children are compulsory, but whether they are +altogether a blessing or not is still doubtful. To take an Indian child +away from its own free, wild life, teach it to dress in white man's +clothes, eat our food, sleep in our beds, bathe in white-tiled bathtubs, +think our thoughts, learn our vices, and then, having led them to +despise their own way of living, send them back to their people who have +not changed while their children were being literally reborn--what does +this accomplish? Doesn't Aesop tell us something of a crow that would be +a dove and found himself an outcast everywhere? We are replacing the +beautiful symbolism of the Indian by our materialism and leaving him +bewildered and discouraged. Why should he be taught to despise his +hogan, shaped after the beautiful rounded curve of the rainbow and the +arched course of the sun in his daily journey across the sky--a type of +home that has been his for generations? Do we ever stop to think why the +mud hut is dome-shaped, why the door always faces the east? + +I have been watching one Hopi family for years. In this case simple +housekeeping, plain sewing, and suitable cooking have been taught to the +girl in school. The mother waits eagerly for the return of the daughter +from school so that she can hear and learn and share what has been +taught to her girl. Her efforts to keep pace with the child are so +intense and her pride in her improved home is so great that it is +pitiful. Isn't there some way the elders can share the knowledge we are +trying to give the younger generation, so that parents and children may +be brought closer together rather than estranged? + +No matter what color the skin, feminine nature never varies! Let one +squaw get a new calico dress, and it creates a stir in every tepee. The +female population gathers to admire, and the equivalent to our ohs and +ahs fills the air. It takes something like twenty yards of calico to +make an Indian flapper a skirt. It must be very full and quite long, +with a ruffle on the hem for good measure. There is going to be no +unseemly display of nether limbs. When a new dress is obtained it is put +on right over the old one, and it is not unusual for four or five such +billowing garments to be worn at once. A close-fitting basque of velvet +forms the top part of this Navajo costume, and over all a machine-made +blanket is worn. Store-made shoes, or more often the hand-made moccasins +of soft doeskin trimmed with silver and turquoise buttons, are worn +without stockings. The feet of Indian women are unusually small and +well-shaped. The amount of jewelry that an Indian wears denotes his +social rank, and, like their white brothers, they adorn the wife, so +that it is not unusual to see their women decked out until they resemble +prosperous Christmas trees. Many silver bracelets, studded with the +native turquoises, strings and strings of silver beads, and shell +necklaces, heavy silver belts, great turquoise earrings, rings and +rings, make up the ensemble of Navajo jewelry. Even the babies are +loaded down with it. It is the family pocketbook. When an Indian goes to +a store he removes a section of jewelry and trades it for whatever takes +his fancy. And one thing an Indian husband should give fervent thanks +for--his wife never wears a hat. + +Our Indian sisters are not the slaves of their husbands as we have been +led to believe. It is true that the hard work in the village or camp is +done by the squaws, but it is done cheerfully and more as a right than +as a duty. In olden times the wives kept the home fires burning and the +crops growing while the braves were on the warpath or after game. Now +that the men no longer have these pursuits, it never occurs to them to +do their wives' work. Nor would they be permitted to do it. + +After the rugs, baskets, or pottery are finished, the husband may take +them to the trading-post or depot and sell them; but the money must be +turned over to the wife or accounted for to her full satisfaction. + +All the Indian women are tireless and fearless riders. They ride +astride, with or without a saddle, and carry two or three of the smaller +children with them. However, if there is only one pony, wifie walks, +while her lordly mate rides. That is Indian etiquette. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter XIV: THE PASSING SHOW_ + + +Tourists! Flocks of them, trainloads and carloads! They came and looked, +and passed on, and were forgotten, nine-tenths of them at least. + +Anyone who is interested in the study of human nature should set up shop +on the Rim of the Grand Canyon and watch the world go by. I have never +been able to determine why Eastern people can't act natural in the West! +For instance: Shy spinster schoolma'ams, the essence of modesty at home, +catch the spirit of adventure and appear swaggering along in the +snuggest of knickers. They would die of shame should their home-town +minister or school president catch them in such apparel. Fat ladies +invariably wear breeches--tight khaki breeches--and with them they wear +georgette blouses, silk stockings, and high-heeled pumps. I have even +seen be-plumed chapeaux top the sport outfit. One thing is a safe +bet--the plumper the lady, the snugger the breeches! + +Be-diamonded dowagers, hand-painted flappers, timid wives from Kansas, +one and all seem to fall for the "My God" habit when they peer down +into the Canyon. Ranger Winess did tell me of one original damsel; she +said: "Ain't it cute?" + +I was standing on the Rim one day, watching a trail party through field +glasses, when a stout, well-dressed man stopped and asked to borrow my +glasses. He spoke of the width and depth of the Canyon, and stood +seemingly lost in contemplation of the magnificent sight. I had him +classified as a preacher, and I mentally rehearsed suitable Biblical +quotations. He turned to me and asked, "Do you know what strikes me most +forcibly about this place?" + +"No, what is it?" I hushed my soul to listen to some sublime sentiment. + +"_I haven't seen a fly since I've been here!_" + +I was spluttering to White Mountain about it and wishing I had pushed +him over the edge, but the Chief thought it was funny. He said the man +must have been a butcher. + +It is a strange fact that tourists will not listen to what Rangers tell +them to do or not to do. The Government pays men who have spent their +lives in such work to guide and guard strangers when they come into the +National Parks. Many visitors resent advice, and are quite ready to cry +for help when they get into difficulties or danger by ignoring +instructions. And usually they don't appreciate the risks that are taken +to rescue them from their own folly. + +A young man from New York City, with his companion, walked down the +Bright Angel Trail to the Colorado River. Everybody knows, or should +know, that the Colorado River is a most treacherous river. One glance at +the sullen, silt-filled current tells that story. It seldom gives up its +dead. But the New Yorker swam it, with his shoes and underclothing on. +By the time he reached the far side he was completely exhausted. More +than that he was panic-stricken at the undercurrents and whirlpools that +had pulled at him and almost dragged him under. He would not swim back. +His companion signaled and yelled encouragement, but nothing doing. + +Behind him rose a hundred-foot precipice; his clothes and his friend +were on the southern bank. The bridge was four miles above, but +unscalable walls made it impossible for him to reach that. Furthermore, +night was at hand. + +When his friend knew that it was hopeless to wait any longer, he left +him perched on a rock and started to Headquarters for help. This was a +climb over seven miles of trail that gained a mile in altitude in that +distance. Disregarding the facts that they had already done their day's +work, that it was dark, and that his predicament was of his own making, +the rangers went to the rescue. + +A canvas boat was lashed on a mule, another mule was led along for the +victim to ride out on, and with four rangers the caravan was off. It was +the plan to follow the trail to the Suspension Bridge, cross to the +northern bank, follow down the river four miles to the cliff above the +spot where the adventurer was roosting let the boat down over the ledge +to the river, and, when the New Yorker got in, pull the boat upstream by +means of the ropes until they found a safe place to drag it to shore. + +When almost down the trail they met the lad coming up, and he was mad! +"Why didn't they come quicker? Why wasn't there a ranger down there to +keep him from swimming the river?" And so forth. But no thanks to the +men that had gone willingly to his rescue. However, they said they were +well paid by the sight of him toiling up the trail in the moonlight, _au +naturel_! They loaded him on a mule and brought him to the top. Then he +refused to pay Fred Harvey for the mule. I might add _he paid_! + +I often wondered why people pay train fare across the continent and then +spend their time poking around in _our_ houses. They would walk in +without knocking, pick up and examine baskets, books, or anything that +caught their fancy. One woman started to pull a blanket off my couch, +saying "What do you want for this?" It was an old story to members of +the Park Service, and after being embarrassed a few times we usually +remembered to hook the door before taking a bath. + +One day Chief Joe and I were chatting in front of the Hopi House. His +Indians had just completed one of their entertaining dances. As it +happened we were discussing a new book that had just been published and +I was interested in his view of the subject, _Outline of History_. All +at once an imposing dowager bore down upon us with all sails set. + +"Are you a real Indian?" + +"Yes, madam," Joe bowed. + +"Where do you sleep?" + +"In the Hopi House." + +"What do you eat?" She eyed him through her lorgnette. + +"Most everything, madam," Joe managed to say. + +Luckily she departed before we lost control of ourselves. Joe says that +he has been asked every question in the category, and then some. I think +some of our stage idols and movie stars would be jealous if they could +see the number of mash notes Joe receives. He is flattered and sought +after and pursued by society ladies galore. The fact that he is married +to one of his own people and has a fat, brown baby does not protect him. + +The Fred Harvey guides could throw interesting lights on tourist conduct +if they wished, but they seldom relate their experiences. Our card club +met in the recreation room of the guide quarters, and sometimes I would +get a chance to listen in on the conversation of the guides. Their +narrations were picturesque to say the least. + +"What held you up today, Ed?" + +"Well," drawled Ed, "a female dude wouldn't keep her mule movin' and +that slowed up the whole shebang. I got tired tellin' her to kick him, +so I jest throwed a loop round his neck and hitched 'im to my saddle +horn. She kept up then." + +"Make her mad?" + +"Uh-huh." A pause while he carefully rolled and lighted a cigarette. "I +reckon so. When we topped out an' I went to help her down, she wuz right +smart riled." + +"Say she wuz goin' to report you to the President of these here United +States?" + +"Don't know about that. She gimme a cut across the face with her bridle +reins." Another pause. "'Twas real aggravatin'." + +Personally, I marveled at his calm. + +"What made you late in toppin' out?" Ed asked in his turn. + +"Well, we wuz late in startin' back, anyhow, and then I had to stop fer +an hour pickin' cactus thorns outta an old-maid female." + +"Mule unload her in a patch, or did she sit down on one?" Ed was +interested. + +"Naw, didn't do neither one. She tried to eat a prickly pear offa bush +of cactus, and got her tongue full uv stickers. Said she always heard +tell them cactus apples wuz good eatin'. I propped her mouth open with a +glove so she couldn't bite none, and I picked cactus stickers till I wuz +plumb weary." + +"Yeh, women is funny that way," philosophized the listener. "They do say +Eve et an apple when she shouldn't ought to had." + +Another lad was lamenting because he had a pretty girl next to him in +the trail party; as he said: "I was sure tryin' to make hay before the +sun went down. Every time I'd say something low and confidential for her +ear alone, a deaf old coot on the tail-end of the line would let out a +yarp-- + +"'What'd you say, Guide?' or, 'I didn't get _that_, Guide.' + +"I reckon he thought I was exclaimin' on the magnificence of the +picturesque beauty of the scenery, and he wasn't gittin' his money's +worth of the remarks." + +One guide said he had trouble getting a man to make the return trip. He +was so scared going down he figured he'd stay down there rather than +ride back up the trail. + +Every morning, rain, snow, or shine, these guides, in flaming +neckerchiefs, equally audible shirts, and woolly chaps, lead their +string of patient mules up to the corral at the hotel, where the trail +parties are loaded for the trip into the Canyon. Each mule has a +complete set of individual characteristics, and mules are right set in +their ways. If one wants to reach over the edge of a sheer precipice and +crop a mouthful of grass, his rider may just as well let him reach. +Mules seldom commit suicide, although at times the incentive must be +strong. + +"Powder River," "Dishpan," "Rastus," and a few other equally hardy mule +brethren are allotted to carry helpless fat tourists down the trail. +It's no use for a fragile two-hundred-pound female to deny her weight. +Guides have canny judgment when it comes to guessing, and you can't fool +a Harvey mule. + +"Saint Peter," "Crowbar," and "By Jingo" are assigned to timid old +ladies and frightened gentlemen. + +If I were issuing trail instructions for Canyon parties I would say +something like this, basing my directions on daily observation: + +"The trail party starts about nine o'clock, and the departure should be +surrounded with joyous shouts of bravado. After you have mounted your +mule, or been laboriously hoisted aboard, let your conscience guide you +as to your actions up and down the trail. When you top out at the end of +the day and it is your turn to be unloaded, weakly drag your feet out +of the stirrups, make sure that the guide is planted directly underneath +you, turn loose all holds, and fall as heavily as possible directly on +top of him. + +"After you have been placed on your feet, say about the third time, it +might be well to make a feeble effort to stand alone. This accomplished, +hobble off to the hotel, taking care to walk as bow-legged as possible. +If you have a room with bath, dive into a blistering hot tubful and +relax. If you were having a stingy streak when you registered, order a +bath at the public bathroom and be thankful you have seventy-five cents +with which to pay for it. Later take an inventory of your damages and, +if they are not too severe, proceed to the dining-room and fill up on +the most soul-satisfying meal Fred Harvey ever placed before the public. + +"Afterward, in the lobby, between examinations of 'I wish you were here' +postcards, it might be well to warn newcomers about the dangers of the +trip. Probably few tourists are as expert riders as you." + +We liked to poke fun at the saddle-sore dudes, but all the same the trip +is a soul-trying one, and the right to boast to home folks about it is +hardly earned. + +It is really a revelation to study the reaction of the Canyon on various +races. On leaving the train a Japanese or Korean immediately seeks out a +ranger or goes to the Park Office and secures every bit of information +that is to be had. Age, formation, fauna, and flora are all +investigated. Then armed with map, guidebook, and kodak he hikes to the +bottom of the trail, and takes everything apart en route to see how it +is made. English and German travelers come next in earnest study and +observation. I am sorry to say that all foreigners seemed to show more +intelligent interest in the Canyon than our own native Americans. +Perhaps that is because only the more educated and intellectual +foreigners are able to make the trip across the ocean. Lots of Americans +never get farther than El Tovar, where they occupy easy chairs, leaving +them several times a day to array themselves in still more gorgeous +raiment. + +Of course, out of the hundreds of thousands that come to Grand Canyon, +only a stray one now and then causes any anxiety or trouble. It is human +nature to remember those that make trouble while thousands of the finest +in the land pass unnoticed. Any mother can tell you that gentle, +obedient Mary is not mentioned once, whereas naughty, turbulent Jane +pops into the conversation continually. Rangers feel the same way about +their charges. + +Perhaps a hundred people got on the train leaving the Canyon one snowy +zero night. Those people were forgotten instantly, but not so the +bellicose dame found wandering around the station asking when _her_ +train would go. She had a ticket to New York, and stood on the platform +like Andy Gump while the train with her baggage aboard pulled out. + +"It was headed the wrong way!" she explained tearfully, and stuck to her +story, even when the sorely tried superintendent led her to the tracks +and showed her that said track absolutely and finally ended there, +without argument or compromise. And she was furious. Her former +outburst was a mild prelude to what poured forth now. She would _not_ +stay there until morning when the next train left. She demanded a +special train; she ordered a handcar with which to overtake the recreant +train; she called for a taxi to chase across to Williams with her, a +mere eighty miles of ten-foot snowdrifts. Only shortage of breath +occasioned by altitude and outraged sensibilities prevented her +commandeering an airplane! None of these vehicles being forthcoming, she +would stop in Washington if she ever made her escape from this +God-forsaken hole, and have every Park employee fired. The +Superintendent took her to the hotel, then came to me for help. + +"Please lend her a comb and a nightgown," he begged. + +"All right." I was used to anything by now. "Silk or flannel?" + +"Well," he said thoughtfully. "She acts like red flannel but probably +expects crêpe de chine." + +I sent both over, and never saw either again. + +My heart went out to a poor little lady, sent by heartless relatives, +traveling with only a maid. She was not mentally able to care for +herself and certainly should not have been allowed to visit Grand +Canyon. However, she and the maid arrived, with other visitors, and the +maid seated her charge on a bench near the Rim, then went away about her +own business. When she came back, behold, the little lady had vanished. +After a long time, the maid reported her absence to the Ranger Office, +and a search was organized. Soon after the rangers had set out to look +for her, an automobile traveling from Flagstaff reported they had met a +thinly dressed woman walking swiftly out into the desert. She had +refused to answer when they spoke to her, and they were afraid she was +not responsible for her actions. + +Ranger Winess, the Chief, and I climbed into the ever-ready Ford and +took up the trail. A heavy storm was gathering and the wind cut like a +knife. For several miles we saw nothing; then we saw her tracks in the +muddy road where the sun had thawed the frozen ground earlier in the +day. After a while great flakes of snow came down, and we lost all +trace. Backtracking ourselves, we found where she had left the road and +had hidden behind a big rock while we had passed. For an hour, through +the falling snow, with night closing around us, we circled and searched, +keeping in touch with each other by calling back and forth continually. +It would have been easy enough for the rangers to have lost me, for I +had no idea what direction I was moving in. We were about to give up and +go back to Headquarters for men and lights when Ranger Winess stumbled +over her as she crouched behind a log. She would have frozen to death in +a very short time, and her coyote-picked bones would probably never have +been discovered. She insisted she knew what she was about, and we had +literally to lift her into the car and take her back to El Tovar. + +Whether the Canyon disorganized their judgment or whether they were +equally silly at home I cannot tell, but certainly the two New England +school teachers who tried horseback-riding for the first time, well--! I +was mixing pie crust when the sound of thundering hoofbeats down through +the woods took me to the door. Just at my porch some men were digging a +deep ditch for plumbing. Two big black horses, a woman hanging around +the neck of each, came galloping down on us, and as the foremost one +gathered himself to leap the ditch, his fainting rider relaxed and fell +right into the arms of a young Mormon workman. He carried her into my +house, and I, not being entirely satisfied with the genuineness of the +prolonged swoon, dismissed the workman and dashed the ice-cold pie crust +water in her face. She "came to" speedily. Her companion arrived about +that time and admitted that neither of them had ever been on a horse +before, and not wanting to pay for the services of a guide they had +claimed to be expert riders. It hadn't taken the horses long to find out +how expert their riders were, and they had taken matters into their own +hands, or perhaps it might be better to say they had taken the bits in +their teeth and started for their stable. + +The girl on the leading horse said she had been looking for quite a +while for a suitable place to fall, and when she saw the Mormon she knew +that was her chance! + +It wasn't always the humans that got into trouble, either. I remember a +beautiful collie dog that was being given an airing along the Rim. He +suddenly lost his head, dashed over the low wall, and leaped to his +death a thousand feet below. It took an Indian half a day of arduous +climbing around fissures and bluffs to reach him and return him to his +distracted owners for burial. They could not bear to leave the Canyon +until they knew he was not lying injured and suffering on a ledge +somewhere. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter XV: FOOLS, FLOOD, AND DYNAMITE_ + + +The Chief and I stayed home for a few days, and life rambled on without +untoward incident. I began to breathe easier and stopped crossing my +fingers whenever the phone rang. + +I even grew so placid that I settled myself to make a wedding dress for +the little Mexican girl who helped me around the house. Her father was +head of the Mexican colony whose village lies just out of Headquarters. +Every member of the clan was a friend of mine, for I had helped them +when they were sick and had saved all the colored pictures in magazines +for their children. + +The wedding day dawned early, very early! At five o'clock I dragged +myself from my warm bed and went to the schoolhouse where the wedding +was staged. Father Vabre married the couple, and then we all went home +with the happy pair. An accordion and a harmonica furnished music enough +for several weddings; at least they made plenty of racket. We were +seated at the table with the bride and groom. They sat there all day +long, she still wearing her long wedding veil. The groom was attired in +the niftiest shepherd-plaid suit I ever beheld. The checks were so large +and so loud I was reminded constantly of a checker-board. A bright blue +celluloid collar topped the outfit. I do not think the bridal couple +spoke a word all day. They sat like statues and stonily received +congratulations and a kiss on each cheek from all their friends. There +was such a lot of dancing and feasting, and drinking the native wine +secured for that grand occasion. Our plates were loaded with food of all +sorts, but I compromised with a taste of the wine and a cup of coffee. +The dancing and feasting lasted two or three days, but one day exhausted +my capacity for endurance. + +Soon after the wedding, a tiny baby sister of the bride died, and its +father came to get permission to bury it in the Park cemetery. I asked +if I could do anything to help them, and Sandoval said I was to make the +dress and put it on the baby for them. He produced bright orange +organdie and pink ribbons for the purpose. Next morning I took the +completed dress and some flowers the El Tovar gardener had contributed +down to their home. I dressed the wee mite in the shroud, which was +mightily admired, and placed the crucifix the mother gave me in its tiny +waxen fist. Then the bride came with her veil and wreath of orange +blossoms, and said she wanted to give them to the little sister. The +mother spoke no English, but she pointed here and there where she wanted +the flowers and bright bows of ribbon pinned. Strange, it looked to me, +the little dead baby decked out in wedding finery, but the poor mother +was content. She patted a ribbon and smoothed the dress, saying to me in +Spanish: + +"The Madonna will find my baby _so_ beautiful!" + +One hot August day, the Chief and Ranger West went down into Salt Creek +Basin, at the bottom of the Canyon, to look for some Government horses +that had strayed away. In spite of their feeble protests I tagged along. + +We had checked up on the stock and were following the trail homeward. +Ranger West rode in front on Black Dixie. Ordinarily he would have been +humming like an overgrown bumblebee, or talking to Dixie, who he said +was the only female he knew he would tell secrets to. But we had ridden +far that day, and the heat radiated from the great ore rocks was almost +beyond endurance. Now and then we could catch a glimpse of the river +directly at the foot of the ledge our trail followed, and the water +looked invitingly cool. All at once Dixie stopped so suddenly that +Ranger West almost took a header. A man's hat was lying in the trail. +Dismounting, the men looked for tracks. A quite legible story was +written there for them to read. Some tenderfoot, thirst-crazed, had +stumbled along that trail since we had passed that way a couple of hours +earlier. Putting our horses to a lope we rode on until we came to his +empty canteen; and a little farther on to a discarded coat and shirt. +The tracks in the sand wavered like those of a drunken man. + +"We'll find his shoes next," the Chief called to Ranger West; "and then +pretty soon the end of the trail for him. Can't go far barefoot in this +hot sand." + +"Say," Ranger West shouted, "White Mountain, Poison Spring is just +around the bend. We'll find the poor devil flattened out there sure. +_You_ ride slow, Margie, and we'll hurry along." + +I didn't say anything, but I hurried along too. This spring he spoke of +was strongly impregnated with arsenic. Even the wild burros shunned it; +but I hardly dared to hope this desperate man would pass by it. The men +rode over the expected shoes without stopping, but I got off of Tar Baby +and got them. I began to think I would stay a little way behind. I felt +rather weak and sick. Rounding the turn I could see there was nothing at +the spring, and in the distance a stumbling figure was weaving along. +The men were nearing him, so I spurred to a run. Every now and then the +man would fall, lie prone for a minute, then struggle to his feet and go +on. Suddenly my heart stood still. The figure left the trail and headed +straight for the edge of the precipice. The river had made itself heard +at last. + +Ranger West turned Dixie from the trail and rode straight across the +plateau to where the man had disappeared behind a big boulder. The Chief +followed West, but I rode the trail and kept my eyes resolutely ahead of +me. I knew I couldn't endure seeing the man jump to certain death when +we were at his heels with water and life. + +When I looked up again Ranger West had his rope in his hand widening the +loop. White Mountain was with him. They were ten or fifteen feet from +the man, who was lying on his stomach peering down at the water. As the +poor fellow raised himself for the plunge, with a quick flirt of his +wrist the ranger tossed the rope across the intervening space, and as +the noose settled around the man's arms White Mountain and the ranger +dragged him back from death. + +He lay stunned for a space, then twisted himself over, and mumbled +through swollen, bleeding lips: "Is that really water down there?" + +They helped him back into the trail and gave him a swallow from a +canteen. It took both the men to manage him, for with the first taste of +water he went raving crazy. He fought and cursed them, and cried like a +baby because he couldn't hold the canteen in his own hands. They laid +him in the shade of our horses and poured a few drops down his throat at +intervals until a degree of sanity returned. He was then placed on the +Chief's horse, and the Chief and Ranger West took turns, one riding +Dixie while the other helped the man stay in the saddle. We found later +he was a German chemist looking for mineral deposits in the Canyon. + +Each morning a daily report of the previous day's doings is posted in +Ranger Headquarters. I was curious to know what Ranger West's +contribution would be for that day. This is what he said: + +"Patrolled Tonto Trail looking for lost horses. Accompanied Chief Ranger +and wife. Brought in lost tenderfoot. Nothing to report." + +And that was that. + +The Chief decided to drive out to Desert View the afternoon following +our Canyon experience, and he said I could go if I liked; he said he +couldn't promise any excitement, but the lupine was beautiful in Long +Jim Canyon, and I might enjoy it. + +"Thank God for a chance to be peaceful. I'm fed up on melodrama," I +murmured, and I climbed into that old Ford with a breath of relief. + +We had such a beautiful drive. I waded waist-high in the fragrant +lupine, and even took a nap on pine needles while White Mountain located +the bench mark he was seeking. When he came back to me he said we had +better start home. He saw a cloud that looked as if it might rain. + +Before we reached the Ford, the rain came down; then more rain came, and +then there was a cloudburst. By that time we were well down toward the +middle of Long Jim Canyon. This canyon acts just like a big ditch when +rain falls. We had to keep going, and behind us a wall of water raced +and foamed and reached out for us. It carried big logs with it, and +maybe that water didn't make some time on the down grade. + +"Hang on, hold everything!" the Chief yelled in my ear, and we were off +on as mad a race as John Gilpin ever rode. Henry would be proud of his +offspring if he knew how one _could_ run when it had a flood behind it. + +"Peaceful! Quiet!! Restful!!!" I hissed at the Chief, between bumps. +Driving was rather hazardous, because the water before us had carried +trees and débris into the road almost blocking it at places. Now and +then we almost squashed a dead cow the flood had deposited in our path. + +I hoped the gasoline would hold out. I prayed that the tires would last. +And I mentally estimated the endurance power of springs and axles. +Everything was jake, to use a cowboy expression, and we reached the +mouth of the Canyon where both we and the flood could spread out. + +"Whew!" said the Chief, wiping his face. I didn't say anything. + +I can't remember that anything disastrous happened for two or three days +after the flood. Life assumed an even tenor, and I yawned occasionally +from sheer ennui. + +To break the monotony I made a salad. That was momentous! Salads meant +something in our young lives out there. One of the rangers on leave had +returned and brought me a fine head of lettuce--an entirely rash way of +saying it with flowers. One last can of shrimp reposed on the shelf. It +almost had cobwebs on it, we had cherished it so long, saving it for +some grand spree. The time had arrived. That salad looked tempting as I +sliced the rosy pimiento on top and piled it in the blue and white bowl. +The ranger who contributed the lettuce was an invited guest, and he +stood on one foot, then on the other, while the dressing was mixed. Even +White Mountain hovered over it anxiously. + +Just then came a knock! A very famous "bugologist" had come to call on +us. Of course the Chief invited him to dinner, while the ranger and I +looked glumly at each other. Maybe there wouldn't be plenty of salad for +four! + +Our guest was deep in his favorite sport, telling us all about the bugs +that killed the beautiful yellow pines at the Canyon. + +"Have some butter, Professor, and try this salad," invited White +Mountain. + +"Thanks, it looks enticing," answered our distinguished guest, and he +placed the bowl with all its contents on his plate. Bite by bite the +salad disappeared, while he discoursed on the proper method of killing +the Yellow Pine Beetle. + +"Why aren't you folks eating some of this delicious salad? You deprive +yourself of a treat when you refuse to eat salads. The human body +requires the elements found in fresh, leafy plants, etc., etc." + +I gave the Chief's shins a sharp little kick. + +"We seldom eat salads," murmured White Mountain. + +I think I heard the disappointed ranger mutter: "Damn right we don't!" + +When the last bite was gone we all stepped outside to look for signs of +the dread beetle on our own trees. While we stood there a blast was put +off by the construction gang on the railway directly in front of our +house. Rocks, 'dobe, and pine cones rattled down all around us. We beat +a retreat into the house and the Chief called to the man in charge and +warned him that such charges of powder as that must be covered if any +more blasting were to be done. + +Again next morning big rocks struck the house, and broke a window. In +the absence of a ranger, I walked down and requested the Turk in charge +of the labor to use a little more discretion. Our house was newly +painted inside and out. My windows were all clean, new curtains were up, +the floors were newly waxed, and we were quite proud of our place of +abode. I said to the Turk I was afraid the roof would leak if such sharp +rocks hit it. He replied insolently that if he blew the roof off, the +Santa Fe would put another on. I went back to the house in fear and +trembling, and picked up my sewing. For half an hour I sewed in quiet. +Then a terrific explosion rent the air. There was ominous silence for an +instant, then the house crumpled over my head. The ridgepole came +crashing down, bringing part of the roof and ceiling with it. Rocks and +a great boulder fell into the room, knocking the stove over. Ashes and +soot went everywhere. One rock grazed me and knocked the sewing basket +from my lap. Part of a railroad tie carried the window sash and curtains +in with it and landed on the piano. + +I have a vague recollection of searching vainly for my thimble, and then +of grimly determining to locate the Chief's gun. It is well he wore his +arsenal that day, else the usual order of things would have been +reversed--a Christian would have massacred a Turk! + +While I was aimlessly wandering around through the wreckage, half dazed, +White Mountain and the Superintendent rushed in. They frantically pulled +me this way and pushed me that, trying to find out if I were hopelessly +injured, or merely killed. They found out I could still talk! Then they +turned their attention to the Turk and his men who came trooping in to +view the remains. It seemed they had put down a charge of four sticks +and it had failed to explode. So they had added four more and let her +ramble. It was _some_ blow-up! At least the Turk found it so. + +"What do you want me to do?" that unfortunate asked me, after the Park +men finished with him. + +"Oh, go outside and die!" + +"White Mountain, give me your pocketbook. I'm going to buy a ticket to +West Virginia. I've had enough of the great open spaces," I continued. + +"Why go now?" he wanted to know. "You've escaped death from fire, flood, +and fools. Might as well stay and see it through." + +So we started shoveling out the dirt. + + +FOOTNOTES + +[1] Reprinted, by permission, with a few changes, from _Good +Housekeeping_. + +[2] Reprinted, by permission, with a few changes, from _Good +Housekeeping_. + +[3] Reprinted, by permission, with a few changes from _Good +Housekeeping_. + +[4] Reprinted, by permission, from the _Los Angeles Times_ Sunday +magazine. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's I Married a Ranger, by Dama Margaret Smith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I MARRIED A RANGER *** + +***** This file should be named 18538-8.txt or 18538-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/3/18538/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: I Married a Ranger + +Author: Dama Margaret Smith + +Release Date: June 8, 2006 [EBook #18538] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I MARRIED A RANGER *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>I Married a Ranger<br /><br /></h1> + +<h2><i>By Dama Margaret Smith</i></h2> + +<h3>(<i>Mrs. "White Mountain"</i>)<br /><br /></h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class='center'>STANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS STANFORD UNIVERSITY, CALIFORNIA<br /> +LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS<br /> +STANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS STANFORD UNIVERSITY, CALIFORNIA<br /> +LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS<br /> +THE MARUZEN COMPANY TOKYO, OSAKA, KYOTO, SENDAI<br /> +THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 55 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK</p> + +<p class='center'>Copyright 1930 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior +University All Rights Reserved Published 1930</p> + +<p class='center'>PRINTED AND BOUND IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY STANFORD UNIVERSITY +PRESS<br /><br /></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3> +<i>This book is lovingly dedicated<br /> +to<br /> +White Mountain Smith<br /> +who has made me glad<br /> +I married a Ranger</i><br /><br /><br /> +</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>FOREWORD</i></h2> + + +<p><i>I Married a Ranger</i> is an intimate story of "pioneer" life in a +national park, told in an interesting, humorous way, that makes it most +delightful.</p> + +<p>To me it is more than a book; it is a personal justification. For back +in 1921, when the author came to my office in Washington and applied for +the clerical vacancy existing at the Grand Canyon, no woman had been +even considered for the position. The park was new, and neither time nor +funds had been available to install facilities that are a necessary part +of our park administrative and protective work. Especially was the Grand +Canyon lacking in living quarters. For that reason the local +superintendent, as well as Washington Office officials, were opposed to +sending any women clerks there.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, after talking to the author, I decided to make an +exception in her case, so she became the first woman Government employee +at the Canyon. <i>I Married a Ranger</i> proves that the decision was a happy +one.</p> + +<p>It is a pleasure to endorse Mrs. Smith's book, and at the same time to +pay a tribute of admiration to the women of the Service, both employees +and wives of employees, who carry on faithfully and courageously under +all circumstances.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;" class="smcap">Arno B. Cammerer</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;"><i>Associate Director,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">National Park Service</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td align='right'>CHAPTER</td><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'>"<i>Out in Arizona, Where the Bad Men Are</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_1'><b>1</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'>"<i>This Ain't Washington!</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_11'><b>11</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'>"<i>I Do!</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_21'><b>21</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><i>Celebrities and Squirrels</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_31'><b>31</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><i>Navajo Land</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_42'><b>42</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'>"<i>They Killed Me</i>"</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_56'><b>56</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><i>A Grand Canyon Christmas</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_67'><b>67</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><i>The Day's Work</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_77'><b>77</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><i>The Doomed Tribe</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_89'><b>89</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><i>Where They Dance with Snakes</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_104'><b>104</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><i>The Terrible Badger Fight</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_121'><b>121</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><i>Grand Canyon Ups and Downs</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_131'><b>131</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><i>Sisters under the Skin</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_147'><b>147</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><i>The Passing Show</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_158'><b>158</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><i>Fools, Flood, and Dynamite</i></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_170'><b>170</b></a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img011.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter I: "OUT IN ARIZONA, WHERE THE BAD MEN ARE"</i></h3> + + +<p>"So you think you'd like to work in the Park Office at Grand Canyon?"</p> + +<p>"Sure!" "Where is Grand Canyon?" I asked as an afterthought.</p> + +<p>I knew just that little about the most spectacular chasm in the world, +when I applied for an appointment there as a Government worker.</p> + +<p>Our train pulled into the rustic station in the wee small hours, and +soon I had my first glimpse of the Canyon. Bathed in cold moonlight, the +depths were filled with shadows that disappeared as the sun came up +while I still lingered, spellbound, on the Rim.</p> + +<p>On the long train journey I had read and re-read the <i>Grand Canyon +Information Booklet</i>, published by the National Park Service. I was +still unprepared for what lay before me in carrying out my rôle as field +clerk there. So very, very many pages of that booklet have never been +written—pages replete with dangers and hardships, lone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>liness and +privations, sacrifice and service, all sweetened with friendships not +found in heartless, hurrying cities, lightened with loyalty and love, +and tinted with glamour and romance. And over it all lies a fascination +a stranger without the gates can never share.</p> + +<p>I was the first woman ever placed in field service at the Grand Canyon, +and the Superintendent was not completely overjoyed at my arrival. To be +fair, I suppose he expected me to be a clinging-vine nuisance, although +I assured him I was well able to take care of myself. Time softens most +of life's harsh memories, and I've learned to see his side of the +question. What was he to do with a girl among scores of road builders +and rangers? When I tell part of my experiences with him, I do so only +because he has long been out of the Service and I can now see the +humorous aspect of our private feud.</p> + +<p>As the sun rose higher over the Canyon, I reluctantly turned away and +went to report my arrival to the Superintendent. He was a towering, +gloomy giant of a man, and I rather timidly presented my assignment. He +looked down from his superior height, eyed me severely, and spoke +gruffly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know you were thrust upon me!"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm very sorry," I said, quite meekly.</p> + +<p>While I was desperately wondering what to do or say next, a tall blond +man in Park uniform entered the office.</p> + +<p>The Superintendent looked quite relieved.</p> + +<p>"This is White Mountain, Chief Ranger here. I guess I'll turn you over +to him. Look after her, will you, Chief?" And he washed his hands of +me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the Washington office I had often heard of "White Mountain" Smith. I +recalled him as the Government scout that had seen years of service in +Yellowstone before he became Chief Ranger at Grand Canyon. I looked him +over rather curiously and decided that I liked him very well. His keen +blue eyes were the friendliest I had seen since I left West Virginia. He +looked like a typical Western man, and I was surprised that his speech +had a "down East" tone.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you a Westerner?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm a Connecticut Yankee," he smiled. "But we drift out here from +everywhere. I've been in the West many years."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever been in West Virginia?" I blurted. Homesickness had +settled all over me.</p> + +<p>He looked at me quickly, and I reckon he saw that tears were close to +the surface.</p> + +<p>"No-o, I haven't been there. But my father went down there during the +Civil War and helped clean up on the rebels!"</p> + +<p>Sparks flew then and I forgot to be homesick. But he laughed and led me +toward my new home.</p> + +<p>We strolled up a slight rise through wonderful pine trees, with here and +there a twisted juniper giving a grotesque touch to the landscape. The +ground was covered with springy pine needles, and squirrels and birds +were everywhere. We walked past rows and rows of white tents pitched in +orderly array among the pines, the canvas village of fifty or more road +builders. By and by we came to a drab gray shack, weather-beaten and +discouraged,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> hunched under the trees as if it were trying to blot +itself from the scene. I was passing on, when the Chief (White Mountain) +stopped me with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"This is your home," he said. Just that bald statement. I thought he was +joking, but he pushed the door open and we walked inside. The tiny shack +had evidently seen duty as a warehouse and hadn't been manicured since! +But in view of the fact that the Park Service was handicapped by lack of +funds, and in the throes of road building and general development, I was +lucky to draw a real house instead of a tent. I began to see why the +Superintendent had looked askance at me when I arrived. I put on my +rose-colored glasses and took stock of my abode.</p> + +<p>It was divided into two rooms, a kitchen and a combination +living-dining-sleeping-dressing-bath-room. The front door was a heavy +nailed-up affair that fastened with an iron hook and staple. The back +door sagged on its leather hinges and moved open or shut reluctantly. +Square holes were cut in the walls for windows, but these were innocent +of screen or glass. Cracks in the roof and walls let in an abundance of +Arizona atmosphere. The furniture consisted of a slab table that +extended all the way through the middle of the room, a wicker chair, and +a golden-oak dresser minus the mirror and lacking one drawer.</p> + +<p>White Mountain looked surprised and relieved, when I burst out laughing. +He didn't know how funny the financial inducements of my new job sounded +to me while I looked around that hovel: "So much per annum and furnished +quarters!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We'll fix this up for you. We rangers didn't know until this morning +that you were coming," he said; and we went down to see if the cook was +in a good humor. I was to eat at the "Mess House" with the road crew and +rangers, provided the cook didn't mind having a woman around. I began to +have leanings toward "Equal-Rights-for-Women Clubs," but the cook was as +nice as could be. I fell in love with him instantly. Both he and his +kitchen were so clean and cheerful. His name was Jack. He greeted me as +man to man, with a hearty handclasp, and assured me he would look after +me.</p> + +<p>"But you'll have to eat what the men do. I ain't got time to fix fancies +for you," he hastened to add.</p> + +<p>A steel triangle hung on a tree near the cookhouse door, and when dinner +was ready Jack's helper struck it sharply with an iron bar. This made a +clatter that could be heard a mile and brought the men tumbling from +their tents to eat. As I was washing my hands and face in the kitchen I +heard Jack making a few remarks to his boarders: "Now don't any you +roughnecks forget there's a lady eatin' here from now on, and I'll be +damned if there's goin' to be any cussin', either." I don't believe they +needed any warning, for during the months I lived near their tents and +ate with them they never "forgot."</p> + +<p>Many of them no doubt had come from homes as good as mine, and more than +one had college degrees. As they became accustomed to having me around +they shed their reserve along with their coats and became just what they +really were, a bunch of grown-up boys in search of adventure.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<p>A week later it seemed perfectly natural to sit down to luncheon with +platters of steak, bowls of vegetables, mounds of potatoes, and pots of +steaming black coffee; but just then it was a radical change from my +usual glass of milk and thin sandwich lunch. The food was served on long +pine tables, flanked by backless benches. Blue and white enamel dishes, +steel knives and forks, and of course no napkins, made up the service. +We drank coffee from tin cups, cooling and diluting it with condensed +milk poured from the original can. I soon learned that "Shoot the cow!" +meant nothing more deadly than "Pass the milk, please!"</p> + +<p>The rangers ate at a table apart from the other men. The Chief sat at +the head of the table, and my plate was at his right. Several rangers +rose to greet me when I came in.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you came," said one of them. "We are apt to grow careless +without someone to keep the rough edges polished for us." That was +Ranger Charley Fisk, the most loyal, faithful friend one could wish for. +He was never too tired nor too busy to add a shelf here or build a +cabinet there in my tiny cabin for me. But all that I had to learn +later. There was Frank, Ranger Winess; he and the Chief had been +together many years in Yellowstone; and Ranger West, and Ranger Peck. +These and several more were at the table.</p> + +<p>"Eat your dinner," the Chief advised, and I ate, from steak to pie. The +three meals there were breakfast, dinner, and supper. No lettuce-leaf +lunch for them.</p> + +<p>Dinner disposed of, I turned my attention to making<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> my cabin fit to +live in. The cook had his flunky sweep and scrub the floor, and then, +with the aid of blankets, pictures, and draperies from my trunks, the +little place began to lose its forlorn look. White Mountain contributed +a fine pair of Pendleton blankets, gay and fleecy. He spread a Navajo +rug on the floor and placed an armful of books on the table. Ranger Fisk +threw the broken chair outside and brought me a chair he had made for +himself. Ranger Winess had been riding the drift fence while we worked, +but he appeared on the scene with a big cluster of red Indian paintbrush +blossoms he had found in a coulee. None of us asked if they were picked +inside the Park.</p> + +<p>No bed was available, and again Ranger Fisk came to the rescue. He lent +me his cot and another ranger contributed his mattress.</p> + +<p>White Mountain was called away, and when he returned he said that he had +hired a girl for the fire look-out tower, and suggested that I might +like to have her live there with me. "She's part Indian," he added.</p> + +<p>"Fine. I like Indians, and anyway these doors won't lock. I'm glad to +have her." So they found another cot and put it up in the kitchen for +her.</p> + +<p>She was a jolly, warm-hearted girl, used to life in such places. Her +husband was a forest ranger several miles away, and she spent most of +her time in the open. All day she stayed high in the fire tower, with +her glasses scanning the surrounding country. At the first sign of +smoke, she determined its exact location by means of a map and then +telephoned to Ranger Headquarters. Men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> were on their way immediately, +and many serious forest fires were thus nipped in the bud.</p> + +<p>She and I surveyed each other curiously. I waited for her to do the +talking.</p> + +<p>"You won't stay here long!" she said, and laughed when I asked her why.</p> + +<p>"This is a funny place to put you," she remarked next, after a glance +around our new domain. "I'd rather be out under a tree, wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"God forbid!" I answered earnestly. "I'm no back-to-nature fan, and this +is primitive a-plenty for me. There's no bathroom, and I can't even find +a place to wash my face. What shall we do?"</p> + +<p>We reconnoitered, and found the water supply. We coaxed a tin basin away +from the cook and were fully equipped as far as a bathroom was +concerned.</p> + +<p>Thea—for that was her Indian name—agreed that it might be well to +fasten our doors; so we dragged the decrepit dresser against the front +portal and moved a trunk across the back entrance. As there were no +shades at the windows, we undressed in the dark and retired.</p> + +<p>The wind moaned in the pines. A querulous coyote complained. Strange +noises were everywhere around us. Scampering sounds echoed back and +forth in the cabin. My cot was hard and springless as a rock, and when I +stretched into a more comfortable position the end bar fell off and the +whole structure collapsed, I with it. Modesty vetoed a light, since the +men were still passing our cabin on their way to the tents; so in utter +darkness I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> pulled the mattress under the table and there made myself as +comfortable as possible. Just as I was dozing, Thea came in from the +kitchen bringing her cot bumping and banging at her heels. She was +utterly unnerved by rats and mice racing over her. We draped petticoats +and other articles of feminine apparel over the windows and sat up the +rest of the night over the smoky lamp. Wrapped in our bright blankets it +would have been difficult to tell which of us was the Indian.</p> + +<p>"I'll get a cat tomorrow," I vowed.</p> + +<p>"You can't. Cats aren't allowed in the Park," she returned, dejectedly.</p> + +<p>"Well, then rats shouldn't be either," I snapped. "I can get some traps +I reckon. Or is trapping prohibited in this area?"</p> + +<p>Thea just sighed.</p> + +<p>Morning finally came, as mornings have a habit of doing, and found me +flinging things back in my trunk, while my companion eyed me +sardonic-wise. I had spent sufficient time in the great open spaces, and +just as soon as I could get some breakfast I was heading for Washington +again. But by the time I had tucked in a "feed" of fried potatoes, eggs, +hot cakes, and strong coffee, a lion couldn't have scared me away. +"Bring on your mice," was my battle cry.</p> + +<p>At breakfast Ranger Fisk asked me quite seriously if I would have some +cackle berries. I looked around, couldn't see any sort of fruit on the +table, and, remembering the cook's injunction to eat what he set before +me, I answered: "No, thank you; but I'll have an egg, please."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> After +the laughter had subsided, White Mountain explained that cackle berries +were eggs!</p> + +<p>I told the rangers about the mice in my house, and the cook overheard +the conversation. A little later a teamster appeared at my cabin with a +tiny gray kitten hidden under his coat.</p> + +<p>"Cook said you have mice, Miss. I've brought 'Tuffy' to you. Please keep +him hid from the rangers. He has lived in the barn with me up to now."</p> + +<p>With such a loyal protector things took a turn for the better, and my +Indian friend, my wee gray cat, and myself dwelt happily in our little +Grayhaven.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img021.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> +<h3><i>Chapter II: "THIS AIN'T WASHINGTON!"</i></h3> + + +<p>"This ain't Washington, and we don't keep bankers' hours here," was the +slogan of the Superintendent. He spoke that phrase, chanted it, and sang +it. He made a litany of it; he turned it into a National Anthem. It came +with such irritating regularity I could have sworn he timed it on a +knotted string, sort of "Day-by-day-in-every-way" tempo, one might say. +And it wasn't Washington, and we didn't live lives of ease; no banker +ever toiled from dawn until all hours of the night, Sunday included!</p> + +<p>I made pothooks and translated them. I put figures down and added them +up. For the road crew I checked in equipment and for the cook I chucked +out rotten beef. The Superintendent had boasted that three weeks of the +program he had laid out for me would be plenty to send me back where I +came from and then he would have a regular place again. But I really +didn't mind the work. I was learning to love the Arizona climate and the +high thin air that kept one's spirits buoyed up in spite of little +irritations. I was not lonely, for I had found many friends.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>When I had been at the Canyon a few days the young people gave a party +for me. It was my début, so to speak. The world-famous stone building at +Hermit's Rest was turned over to us for the evening by the Fred Harvey +people, and, attended by the entire ranger force, I drove out the nine +miles from Headquarters. We found the house crowded with guides, +cowboys, stage-drivers, and their girls. Most of the girls were Fred +Harvey waitresses, and if you think there is any discredit attached to +that job you had better change your mind. The girls there were +bookkeepers, teachers, college girls, and stenographers. They see the +world and get well paid while doing it.</p> + +<p>The big rendezvous at Hermit's Rest resembles an enormous cavern. The +fireplace is among the largest anywhere in the world, and the cave +impression is further carried out by having flat stones laid for the +floor, and rock benches covered with bearskins and Navajo rugs. Many +distinguished guests from all parts of the globe have been entertained +in that room, but we forgot all about distinguished personages and had a +real old-fashioned party. We played cards and danced, and roasted +weenies and marshmallows. After that party I felt that I belonged there +at the Canyon and had neighbors.</p> + +<p>There were others, however. The Social Leader, for instance. She tried +to turn our little democracy into a monarchy, with herself the +sovereign. She was very near-sighted, and it was a mystery how she +managed to know all about everything until we discovered she kept a pair +of powerful field-glasses trained on the scene most of the time. The +poor lady had a mania for selling discarded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> clothing at top prices. We +used to ask each other when we met at supper, "Did you buy anything +today?" I refused point-blank to buy her wreckage, but the rangers were +at a disadvantage. They wanted to be gentlemen and not hurt her +feelings! Now and then one would get cornered and stuck with a +second-hand offering before he could make his getaway. Then how the +others would rag him! One ranger, with tiny feet, of which he was +inordinately proud, was forced to buy a pair of No. 12 shoes because +they pinched the Social Leader's Husband's feet. He brought them to me.</p> + +<p>"My Gawd! What'll I do with these here box cars? They cost me six bucks +and I'm ruined if the boys find out about it."</p> + +<p>An Indian squaw was peddling baskets at my house, and we traded the +shoes to her for two baskets. I kept one and he the other. Not long +after that he was burned to death in a forest fire, and when I packed +his belongings to send to his mother the little basket was among his +keepsakes.</p> + +<p>There was a Bridge Fiend in our midst, too! She weighed something like +twenty stone, slept all forenoon, played bridge and ate chocolates all +afternoon, and talked constantly of reducing. One day she went for a +ride on a flop-eared mule; he got tired and lay down and rolled over and +over in the sand. They had some trouble rescuing her before she got +smashed. I told her the mule believed in rolling to help reduce. She +didn't see the joke, but the mule and I did. Grand Canyon life was too +exciting for her, so she left us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>A quaint little person was the rancher's wife who brought fresh eggs and +vegetables to us. She wore scant pajamas instead of skirts, because she +thought it "more genteel," she explained. When a favorite horse or cow +died, she carefully preserved the skull and other portions of the +skeleton for interior-decoration purposes.</p> + +<p>Ranger Fisk and I took refuge in her parlor one day from a heavy rain. +Her husband sat there like a graven image. He was never known to say +more than a dozen words a day, but she carried on for the entire family. +As Ranger Fisk said, "She turns her voice on and then goes away and +forgets it's running." She told us all about the last moments of her +skeletons before they were such, until it ceased to be funny. Ranger +Fisk sought to change the conversation by asking her how long she had +been married.</p> + +<p>"Ten years; but it seems like fifty," she said. We braved the rain after +that.</p> + +<p>Ranger Fisk was born in Sweden. He ran away from home at fourteen and +joined the Merchant Marine, and in that service poked into most of the +queer seaports on the map. He had long since lost track of his kinsfolk, +and although he insisted that he was anxious to marry he carefully kept +away from all marriageable ladies.</p> + +<p>Ranger Winess was the sheik of the force. Every good-looking girl that +came his way was rushed for a day and forgotten as soon as another +arrived. He played his big guitar, and sang and danced, and made love, +all with equal skill and lightness. The only love he was really constant +to was Tony, his big bay horse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ranger West, Assistant Chief Ranger, was the most like a storybook +ranger of them all. He was essentially an outdoor man, without any +parlor tricks. I have heard old-timers say he was the best man with +horses they had ever known. He was much more interested in horses and +tobacco than he was in women and small talk. But if there was a +particularly dangerous task or one requiring sound judgment and a clear +head, Ranger West was selected.</p> + +<p>He and Ranger Fisk and Ranger Winess were known as the "Three +Musketeers." They were the backbone of the force.</p> + +<p>Sometimes I think my very nicest neighbor was the gardener at El Tovar +Hotel. He saw me hungrily eying his flowers, and gave me a generous +portion of plants and showed me how to care for them. I planted them +alongside my little gray house, and after each basin of water had seen +duty for cleansing purposes it went to water the flowers. We never +wasted a drop of water. It was hauled a hundred miles in tank cars, and +cost accordingly. I sometimes wondered if we paid extra for the red bugs +that swam around in it so gaily. Anyway, my flowers didn't mind the +bugs. They grew into masses of beautiful foliage and brilliant blossoms. +I knew every leaf and bud on them. I almost sat up nights with them, I +was so proud of their beauty. My flowers and my little gray kitten were +all the company I had now. The fire guard girl had gone home.</p> + +<p>One of my neighbors asked me to go with a group of Fred Harvey girls to +visit the Petrified Forest, lying more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> than a hundred miles southeast +of the Canyon. As I had been working exceptionally hard in the Park +Office, I declared myself a holiday, and Sunday morning early found us +well on the way.</p> + +<p>We drove through ordinary desert country to Williams and from there on +past Flagstaff and eastward to Holbrook. Eighteen miles from there we +began to see fallen logs turned into stone.</p> + +<p>My ideas of the Petrified Forest were very vague, but I had expected to +see standing trees turned to stone. These big logs were all lying down, +and I couldn't find a single stump! We drove through several miles of +fallen logs and came to the Government Museum where unique and choice +specimens had been gathered together for visitors to see. It is hard to +describe this wood, that isn't wood. It looks like wood, at least the +grain and the shape, and knotholes and even wormholes are there; but it +has turned to beautifully brilliant rock. Some pieces look like +priceless Italian marble; others are all colors of the rainbow, blended +together into a perfect poem of shades.</p> + +<p>Of course I asked for an explanation, and with all the technical terms +left out, this is about what I learned: "These trees are probably forty +million years old! None of them grew here. This is proved in several +ways: there are few roots or branches and little bark."</p> + +<p>The ranger saw me touch the outside of a log that was covered with what +looked to me like perfectly good bark! He smiled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that looks like bark, but it is merely an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> outside crust of +melted sand, et cetera, that formed on the logs as they rolled around in +the water."</p> + +<p>"Water?" I certainly hadn't seen any water around the Petrified Forest.</p> + +<p>"Yes, water. This country, at one time, was an arm of the Pacific Ocean, +and was drained by some disturbance which brought the Sierra Mountains +to the surface. These logs grew probably a thousand miles north of here +and were brought here in a great flood. They floated around for +centuries perhaps, and were thoroughly impregnated with the mineral +water, doubtless hot water. When the drainage took place, they were +covered by silt and sand to a depth of perhaps two thousand feet. Here +the petrifaction took place. Silica was present in great quantities. +Manganese and iron provided the coloring matter, and through pressure +these chemicals were forced into the grain of the wood, which gradually +was absorbed and its cell structure replaced by ninety-nine per cent +silica and the other per cent iron and manganese. Erosion brought what +we see to the top. We have reason to believe that the earth around here +covers many thousand more."</p> + +<p>After that all soaked in I asked him what the beautiful crystals in +purple and amber were. These are really amethysts and topazes found in +the center of the logs. Formed probably by resin in the wood, these +jewels are next hardest to diamonds and have been much prized. One +famous jeweler even had numberless logs blown to splinters with +explosives in order to secure the gems.</p> + +<p>The wood is very little softer than diamond, and polishes beautifully +for jewelry, book-ends, and table tops.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> The ranger warned us against +taking any samples from the Reserve.</p> + +<p>We could have spent days wandering around among the fallen giants, each +one disclosing new beauties in color and formation; but we finally left, +reluctantly, each determined to come back again.</p> + +<p>It was quite dark when we reached the Canyon, and I was glad to creep +into bed. My kitten snuggled down close to the pillow and sang sleepy +songs, but I couldn't seem to get to sleep. Only cheesecloth nailed over +the windows stood between me and all sorts of animals I imagined prowled +the surrounding forest. The cheesecloth couldn't keep the noises out, +and the cry that I heard might just as well have been the killing scream +of a cougar as a bed-time story of a tree frog. It made my heart beat +just as fast. And although the rangers declared I never heard more than +one coyote at a time, I knew that at least twenty howling voices swelled +the chorus.</p> + +<p>While I was trying to persuade myself that the noise I heard was just a +pack rat, a puffing, blowing sound at the window took me tremblingly out +to investigate. I knew some ferocious animal was about to devour me! But +my precious flowers were the attraction. A great, gaunt cow had taken +the last delectable bite from my pansy bed and was sticking out a greedy +tongue to lap in the snapdragons. Throwing on my bathrobe, I grabbed the +broom and attacked the invader. I whacked it fore and aft! I played a +tune on its lank ribs! Taken completely by surprise, it hightailed +clumsily up through the pines, with me and my trusty broom lending +encourage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>ment. When morning came, showing the havoc wrought on my +despoiled posies, I was ready to weep.</p> + +<p>Ranger Winess joined me on my way to breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Don't get far from Headquarters today," he said. "Dollar Mark Bull is +in here and he is a killer. I've been out on Tony after him, but he +charged us and Tony bolted before I could shoot. When I got Tony down to +brass tacks, Dollar Mark was hid."</p> + +<p>I felt my knees knocking together.</p> + +<p>"What's he look like?" I inquired, weakly.</p> + +<p>"Big red fellow, with wide horns and white face. Branded with a Dollar +Mark. He's at least twenty years old, and mean!"</p> + +<p>My midnight visitor!</p> + +<p>I sat down suddenly on a lumber pile. It was handy to have a lumber +pile, for I felt limp all over. I told the ranger about chasing the old +beast around with a broom. His eyes bulged out on stems.</p> + +<p>Frequent appearances of "Dollar Mark" kept me from my daily tramps +through the pines, and I spent more time on the Rim of the Canyon.</p> + +<p>Strangely, the great yawning chasm itself held no fascination for me. I +could appreciate its dizzy depths, its vastness, its marvelous color +effects, and its weird contours. I could feel the immensity of it, and +it repelled instead of attracted. I seemed to see its barrenness and +desolation, the cruel deception of its poisonous springs, and its +insurmountable walls. I could visualize its hapless victims wandering +frantically about, trying to find the way out of some blind coulee, +until, exhausted and thirst-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>crazed, they lay down to die under the +sun's pitiless glare. Many skeletons, half buried in sand, have been +found to tell of such tragedies.</p> + +<p>It was only in the evenings, after the sun had gone down, that I could +feel at ease with the Canyon. Then I loved to sit on the Rim and look +down on the one living spot far below, where, almost a century ago, the +Indians made their homes and raised their crops, watering the fields +from the clear, cold spring that gushes out of the hillside. As the +light faded, the soft mellow moon would swim into view, shrouding with +tender light the stark, grim boulders. From the plateau, lost in the +shadows, the harsh bray of wild burros, softened by distance, floated +upward.</p> + +<p>On a clear day I could see objects on the North Rim, thirteen miles +away, and with a pair of strong field glasses I could bring the scene +quite close. It looked like a fairyland over there, and I wanted to +cross over and see what it was really like. White Mountain advanced the +theory that if we were married we could go over there for our honeymoon! +I had to give the matter careful consideration; but while I considered, +the moon came up, and behind us in the Music Room someone began to play +softly Schubert's "Serenade." I said, "All right. Next year we'll go!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img031.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter III: "I DO!"</i></h3> + + +<p>The Washington Office decided, by this time, that I was really going to +stay, so they sent another girl out to work with me. The poor +Superintendent was speechless! But his agony was short-lived. Another +superintendent was sent to relieve him, which was also a relief to me!</p> + +<p>My new girl was from Alabama and had never been west of that state. She +was more of a tenderfoot than I, if possible. At first she insisted one +had to have a bathtub or else be just "pore white trash," but in time +she learned to bathe quite luxuriously in a three-pint basin. It took +longer for her to master the art of lighting a kerosene lamp, and it was +quite a while before she was expert enough to dodge the splinters in the +rough pine floor. I felt like a seasoned sourdough beside her!</p> + +<p>We "ditched" the big cookstove, made the back room into sleeping +quarters, and turned our front room into a sort of clubhouse. White +Mountain gave us a wonderful phonograph and plenty of records. If one is +inclined to belittle canned music, it is a good plan to live for a +while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> where the only melody one hears is a wailing coyote or the wind +moaning among the pines.</p> + +<p>We kept getting new records. The rangers dropped in every evening with +offerings. Ranger Winess brought us love songs. He doted on John +McCormack's ballads, and I secretly applauded his choice. Of course I +had to praise the Harry Lauder selections that Ranger Fisk toted in. +White Mountain favored Elman and Kreisler. The violin held him +spellbound. But when Pat came we all suffered through an evening of +Grand Opera spelled with capital letters!</p> + +<p>Nobody knew much about "Pat." He was a gentleman without doubt. He was +educated and cultured, he was witty and traveled. His game of bridge was +faultless and his discussion of art or music authentic. He was ready to +discuss anything and everything, except himself.</p> + +<p>In making up personnel records I asked him to fill out a blank. He gave +his name and age. "Education" was followed by "A.B." and "M.A." Nearest +relative: "None." In case of injury or death notify—"<i>Nobody.</i>" That +was all. Somewhere he had a family that stood for something in the +world, but where? He was a striking person, with his snow-white hair, +bright blue eyes, and erect, soldier-like bearing. White Mountain and +Ranger Winess had known him in Yellowstone; Ranger Fisk had seen him in +Rainier; Ranger West had met him at Glacier. He taught me the game of +cribbage, and the old game of gold-rush days—solo.</p> + +<p>One morning Pat came to my cabin and handed me a book. Without speaking +he turned and walked away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> Inside the volume I found a note: "I am +going away. This is my favorite book. I want you to have it and keep +it." The title of the book was <i>Story of an African Farm</i>. None of us +ever saw Pat again.</p> + +<p>The yearly rains began to come daily, each with more force and water +than the preceding one. Lightning flashed like bombs exploding, and +thunder roared and reverberated back and forth from Rim to Rim of the +Canyon. We sank above our shoes in mud every time we left the cabin. The +days were disagreeable, but the evenings were spent in the cabin, Ranger +Winess with his guitar and the other boys singing while we girls made +fudge or sea-foam. Such quantities of candy as that bunch could consume! +The sugar was paid for from the proceeds of a Put-and-Take game that +kept us entertained.</p> + +<p>We had a girl friend, Virginia, from Washington as a guest, and she fell +in love with Arizona. Also with Ranger Winess. It was about arranged +that she would remain permanently, but one unlucky day he took her down +Bright Angel Trail. He provided her with a tall lank mule, "By Gosh," to +ride, and she had never been aboard an animal before. Every time By Gosh +flopped an ear she thought he was trying to slap her in the face. On a +steep part of the trail a hornet stung the mule, and he began to buck +and kick.</p> + +<p>I asked Virginia what she did then.</p> + +<p>"I didn't do anything. By Gosh was doing enough for both of us," she +said. Ranger Winess said, however, that she turned her mule's head in +toward the bank and whacked him with the stick she carried. Which was +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> logical thing to do. Unfortunately Ranger Winess teased her a +little about the incident, and a slight coolness arose. Just to show how +little she cared for his company, Virginia left our party and strolled +up to the Rim to observe the effect of moonlight on the mist that filled +it.</p> + +<p>Our game of Put-and-Take was running along merrily when we heard a +shriek, then another. We rushed out, and there was Dollar Mark Bull +chasing Virginia around and around among the big pine trees while she +yelled like a calliope. Seeing the door open she knocked a few of us +over in her hurry to get inside. Then she bravely slammed the door and +stood against it! Fortunately, Dollar Mark retreated and no lives were +lost.</p> + +<p>The rangers departed, we soothed Virginia, now determined not to remain +permanently, and settled down for the night. Everything quiet and +peaceful, thank goodness!</p> + +<p>Alas! The most piercing shrieks I ever heard brought me upright in bed +with every hair standing on end. It was morning. I looked at Virginia's +bed. I could see her quite distinctly, parts of her at least. Her head +was buried, ostrich-wise, in the blankets, while her feet beat a wild +tattoo in the air. Stell woke up and joined the chorus. The cause of it +all was a bewildered Navajo buck who stood mutely in the doorway, +staring at the havoc he had created. At arm's length he tendered a pair +of moccasins for sale. It was the first Reservation Indian in native +dress, or rather undress, the girls had seen, and they truly expected to +be scalped.</p> + +<p>It never occurs to an Indian to knock at a door, nor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> does the question +of propriety enter into his calculations when he has an object in view.</p> + +<p>I told him to leave, and he went out. An hour later, however, when we +went to breakfast, he was squatted outside my door waiting for us to +appear. He had silver bracelets and rings beaten out of Mexican coins +and studded with native turquoise and desert rubies. We each bought +something. I bought because I liked his wares, and the other girls +purchased as a sort of thank-offering for mercies received.</p> + +<p>The bracelets were set with the brilliant rubies found by the Indians in +the desert. It is said that ants excavating far beneath the surface +bring these semi-precious stones to the top. Others contend that they +are not found underneath the ground but are brought by the ants from +somewhere near the nest because their glitter attracts the ant. True or +false, the story results in every anthill being carefully searched.</p> + +<p>Virginia's visit was drawing to a close, and White Mountain and I +decided to announce our engagement while she was still with us. We gave +a dinner at El Tovar, with the rangers and our closest friends present. +At the same party another ranger announced his engagement and so the +dinner was a hilarious affair.</p> + +<p>One of the oldest rangers there, and one notoriously shy with women, +made me the object of a general laugh. He raised his glass solemnly and +said: "Well, here's wishin' you joy, but I jest want to say this: ef +you'd a played yo' cyards a little bit different, you wouldn't 'a had to +take White Mountain."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>Before the dinner was over a call came from the public camp ground for +aid. Our party broke up, and we girls went to the assistance of a +fourteen-year-old mother whose baby was ill. Bad food and ignorance had +been too much for the little nameless fellow, and he died about +midnight. There was a terrible electric storm raging, and rain poured +down through the old tent where the baby died.</p> + +<p>Ranger Winess carried the little body down to our house and we took the +mother and followed. We put him in a dresser drawer and set to work to +make clothes to bury him in. Ranger Fisk and Ranger Winess made the tiny +casket, and we rummaged through our trunks for materials. A sheer dimity +frock of mine that had figured in happier scenes made the shroud, and +Virginia gave a silken scarf to line the coffin. Ranger Winess tacked +muslin over the rough boards so it would look nicer to the young mother. +There were enough of my flowers left by Dollar Mark to make a wreath, +and that afternoon a piteous procession wended its way to the cemetery. +And such a cemetery! Near the edge of the Canyon, a mile or so from +Headquarters it lay, a bleak neglected spot in a sagebrush flat with +nothing to mark the cattle-tramped graves, of which there were four. At +the edge of the clearing, under a little pine, was the open grave, and +while the coffin was lowered the men sang. I never heard a more lonesome +sound than those men singing there over that little grave. White +Mountain read the burial service.</p> + +<p>We took the mother back to our cabin while the grave was being filled +in. I used to see her walking out there each morning with a few wild +flowers to put on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> mound. Ranger Winess managed to ride that way and +keep her in sight until she returned to the camp ground. While the blue +lupine blossomed she kept the mound covered with the fragrant flowers.</p> + +<p>Ranger Fisk had a vacation about this time, and he insisted White +Mountain and I should get married while he could act as best man. So we +journeyed to Flagstaff with him and were married. It seemed more like a +wedding in a play than anything else. Ranger Fisk was burdened with the +responsibility of the wedding-ring, license, minister's fee, and flowers +for the occasion. He herded us into the clerk's office to secure the +necessary papers, and the girl clerk that issued them was a stickler for +form. We gave our names, our parents' names, our ages, birth-places, and +previous states of servitude. I was getting ready to show her my +vaccination scar, when she turned coldly critical eyes on me and asked: +"Are you white?" This for a Virginian to answer was quite a blow.</p> + +<p>We went to the minister's house, and since two witnesses were necessary, +the wife was called in from her washing. She came into the parlor drying +her hands on her apron, which she discarded by rolling up and tossing +into a chair. Ranger Fisk produced the ring, with a flourish, at the +proper moment, gave the minister his money, after all the "I do's" had +been said, and the wedding was over. So we were married. No wedding +march, no flower girls, no veil, no rice, no wedding breakfast. Just a +solemn promise to respect each other and be faithful. Perhaps the +promise meant just a little more to us because it was not smothered in +pomp.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>For a wedding-trip we visited the cliff dwellings in Walnut Canyon. +Here, hundreds of years ago, other newly married couples had set up +housekeeping and built their dreams into the walls that still tell the +world that we are but newcomers on this hemisphere.</p> + +<p>The news of our marriage reached the Canyon ahead of us, and we found +our little cabin filled with our friends and their gifts. They spent a +merry evening with us and as we bade them goodnight we felt that such +friendship was beyond price indeed.</p> + +<p>But after midnight! The great open spaces were literally filled with a +most terrifying and ungodly racket. I heard shrieks and shots, and tin +pans banging. Horrors! The cook was on another vanilla-extract +jamboree!! But—drums boomed and bugles blared. Ah, of course! The +Indians were on the warpath; I never entirely trusted those red devils. +I looked around for a means of defense, but the Chief told me not to be +alarmed—it was merely a "shivaree."</p> + +<p>"Now, what might that be?" I inquired. I supposed he meant at least a +banshee, or at the very least an Irish wake! It was, however, nothing +more or less than our friends serenading us. They came inside, thirty +strong; the walls of the cabin fairly bulged. They played all sorts of +tricks on us, and just as they left someone dropped a handful of sulphur +on top of the stove. Naturally, we went outside with our visitors to +wish them "godspeed!"</p> + +<p>"I'll never get married again; at least not in the land of the +shivaree," I told White Mountain as we tried to repair the damage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>I guess we were let off easy, for when our ranger friend returned with +his bride they suffered a much worse fate. The groom was locked for +hours in the old bear cage on the Rim, and his wife was loaded into a +wheelbarrow and rolled back and forth across the railroad tracks until +the Chief called a halt to that. He felt the treatment was a little too +severe even for people in love.</p> + +<p>Since I could not go to live in the bachelor ranger quarters, White +Mountain moved into my cabin until our house could be completed. A tent +house was built for Stell in the back yard of our cabin. She was afraid +to live alone, and used to wake us at all hours of the night. Once she +came bursting into our cabin, hysterical with fright. A bunch of coyotes +had been racing around and around her tent trying to get into the +garbage can. They yelped and barked, and, finally, as she sobbed and +tried to explain, "They sat down in my door and laughed like crazy +people." She finished the night on our spare cot, for anybody that +thinks coyotes can't act like demons had better spend a night in Arizona +and listen to them perform.</p> + +<p>Stell wasn't a coward by any means. She was right there when real +courage was needed. A broken leg to set or a corpse to bathe and dress +were just chores that needed to be done, and she did her share of both. +But seven thousand feet altitude for months at a time will draw a +woman's nerves tauter than violin strings. I remember, one morning, +Stell and I came home in the dawn after an all-night vigil with a dying +woman. We were both nearly asleep as we stumbled along through the +pines, but not too far gone to see Dollar Mark come charging at us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> We +had stopped at the cookhouse and begged a pot of hot coffee to take to +our cabins. Stell was carrying it, and she stood her ground until the +mean old bull was within a few feet of her. Then she dashed the +boiling-hot coffee full in his gleaming red eyes, and while he snorted +and bellowed with pain we shinnied up a juniper tree and hung there like +some of our ancestors until the road crew came along and drove him away. +We were pretty mad, and made a few sarcastic remarks about a ranger +force that couldn't even "shoot the bull." We requested the loan of a +gun, if necessary! Ranger Winess took our conversation to heart, and +next morning hung a notice in Headquarters which "Regretted to report +that Dollar Mark Bull accidentally fell over the Rim into the Canyon and +was killed." In my heart I questioned both the "regret" and the +"accidental" part of the report, and in order to still any remorse that +the ranger might feel I baked him the best lemon pie I had in my +repertoire!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img041.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter IV: CELEBRITIES AND SQUIRRELS</i></h3> + + +<p>Soon after our wedding the Chief crossed to the North Rim to meet a +party of celebrities, which included his old friend Emerson Hough. This +was to have been our honeymoon trip, but I was left at home! The new +Superintendent needed me in the office; therefore White Mountain spent +our honeymoon trip alone. I had heard of such a thing, but never +expected it to happen to me. I might have felt terribly cut up about it +but on the South Rim we were fermenting with excitement getting ready to +entertain important guests.</p> + +<p>General Diaz of Italy and his staff were coming, soon to be followed by +Marshal Foch with his retinue. And in the meantime Tom Mix and Eva Novak +had arrived with beautiful horses and swaggering cowboys to make a +picture in the Canyon. What was a mere honeymoon compared to such +luminaries?</p> + +<p>Tom and Eva spent three weeks making the picture, and we enjoyed every +minute they were there. Ranger Winess was assigned to duty with them, +and when they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> left the Canyon he found himself with the offer of a +movie contract. Tom liked the way the ranger handled his horse and his +rifle, and Tom's wife liked the sound of his guitar. So we lost Ranger +Winess. He went away to Hollywood, and we all went around practicing: +"I-knew-him-when" phrases. But Hollywood wasn't Grand Canyon, and there +wasn't a horse there, not even Tom's celebrated Tony, that had half as +much brains as his own bay Tony of the ranger horses. So Winess came +back to us, and everybody was happy again.</p> + +<p>While the picture was being made, some of the company found a burro +mother with a broken leg, and Ranger Winess mercifully ended her +suffering. A tiny baby burro playing around the mother they took to camp +and adopted at once. He was so comical with his big velvet ears and wise +expression. Not bigger than a shepherd dog, the men could pick him up +and carry him around the place. Tom took him to Mixville and the movie +people taught him to drink out of a bottle, so he is well on the road to +stardom. Ranger Winess, visiting in New Jersey a couple of years later, +dropped into a theater where Tom Mix was in a vaudeville act. Mix spied +the ranger, and when the act was over he stepped to the edge of the +stage and sang out: "Hey, Winess, I still got that burro!"</p> + +<p>A dummy that had been used in the picture was left lying quite a +distance up the side of a mountain, but quite visible from their movie +camp. Tom bet his Director, Lynn Reynolds, twenty-five dollars that the +dummy was six feet tall. He knew quite well that it was <i>not</i> six feet +tall, and knew that Reynolds knew so too. But the bet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> was on. A guide +going to the top, was bribed by a ten-dollar bill from Tom, to stretch +the dummy out to the required length. This guide went up the trail a few +hours before Tom and Reynolds were due to measure the dummy. Imagine +their feelings when they arrived, and found the money and this note +pinned to the object of dispute:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Mr. Tom Mix, deer sir. I streetched the dam thing till it busted. +It hain't no higher than me, and I hain't six feet. You'll plees +find herein yore money.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 14em;">Youers truly,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 16em;">Shorty</span>." </p></div> + +<p>It is said that Reynolds collected in full and then hunted Shorty up and +bestowed the twenty-five dollars on him.</p> + +<p>White Mountain returned from the North Rim full of his trip. He, +together with Director Mather and Emerson Hough, had been all through +the wonderful Southern Utah country, including Bryce Canyon and Zion +National Park. Mr. Hough had just sold his masterpiece, <i>The Covered +Wagon</i>, to the <i>Saturday Evening Post</i>, and was planning to write a +Canyon story. He told White Mountain he felt that he was not big enough +to write such a story but intended to try. His title was to be "The +Scornful Valley." Before he could come to the Canyon again, he died on +the operating table.</p> + +<p>Preparations were made for the visit of General Diaz, who came about +Thanksgiving time. A great deal of pomp and glory surrounded his every +movement. He and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> White Mountain were alone for a moment on one of the +points overlooking the Canyon, and the General, looking intently into +the big gorge, said to the Chief: "When I was a small boy I read a book +about some people that stole some cattle and hid away in the Canyon. I +wonder if it could have been near here?" White Mountain was able to +point out a place in the distance that had been a crossing place for +cattle in the early days, which pleased the soldier greatly.</p> + +<p>Hopi Joe and his Indian dancers gave an unusually fine exhibition of +their tribal dances for the visitors. The General expressed his +appreciation quite warmly to Joe after the dance ended, and asked Joe to +pose with him for a picture. He was recalling other boyhood reading he +had done, and his interest in the Indians was quite naïve. Joe took him +into the Hopi House and they spent an hour or so going over the +exhibition of Indian trophies there.</p> + +<p>After dinner, the General retired to his private car to rest, but the +staff remained at the hotel and we danced until well after midnight. The +General's own band furnished the music. There were no women in the +visitor's party, but there was no lack of partners for the handsome, +charming officers. That few of them spoke English and none of us +understood Italian made no difference. Smiles and flirtatious glances +speak a universal language, and many a wife kept her wedding-ring out of +the lime-light.</p> + +<p>While we all enjoyed the visit of this famous man, we took a personal +interest in Marshal Foch. And I'm not sure that General Diaz would have +been entirely pleased could he have seen the extra special arrangements +that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> were made to welcome Marshal Foch a few days later. Every ranger +was called in from outlying posts; uniforms were pressed, boots shined, +and horses groomed beyond recognition. Some of the rangers had served in +France, and one tall lanky son of Tennessee had won the Croix de Guerre. +To his great disgust and embarrassment, he was ordered to wear this +decoration. When the special train rolled in, the rangers were lined up +beside the track. The gallant old warrior stepped down from his car and +walked along the line. His eye rested on that medal. He rushed up and +fingered it lovingly "Croix de Guerre! Oui, oui, Croix de Guerre!" he +kept repeating, as delighted as a child would be at the sight of a +beloved toy. The ranger's face was a study. I believe he expected to be +kissed on both cheeks, as he probably had been when the medal was +originally bestowed upon him.</p> + +<p>White Mountain was presented to the Marshal as "Le Chieftain de le +Rangeurs," and, as he said later, had a handshake and listened to a few +words in French from the greatest general in history!</p> + +<p>The Marshal was the least imposing member of his staff. Small, +unassuming, and even frail, he gave the impression of being infinitely +weary of the world and its fighting, its falseness, and its empty pomp. +He spoke practically no English, but when a tiny Indian maid crept near +in her quaint velvet jacket and little full skirts, he extended a hand +and said quite brokenly: "How are you, Little One?" In fact he spoke +very little even in his own language.</p> + +<p>Several hours were consumed in viewing the Canyon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> and at lunch. Then he +was taken out to Hermit's Rest and sat in front of the great fireplace +for an hour, just resting and gazing silently into the glowing embers. +All the while he stroked the big yellow cat that had come and jumped +upon his knee as soon as he was settled. Then he walked down the trail a +little way, refusing to ride the mule provided for him. When it was +explained that his photograph on the mule was desired, he gravely bowed +and climbed aboard the animal.</p> + +<p>Our new Superintendent, Colonel John R. White, had been in France and +spoke French fluently. He hung breathlessly on the words of the Marshal +when he turned to him after a long scrutiny of the depths below. "Now," +thought Colonel White, "I shall hear something worthy of passing along +to my children and grandchildren."</p> + +<p>"What a beautiful place to drop one's mother-in-law!" observed the +Marshal in French. Later he remarked that the Canyon would make a +wonderful border line between Germany and France!</p> + +<p>Hopi Joe gave his tribal dances around a fire built in the plaza. After +the dance was over, the Marshal asked for an encore on the War Dance. +Joe gave a very realistic performance that time. Once he came quite near +the foreign warrior, brandishing his tomahawk and chanting. A pompous +newspaper man decided to be a hero and pushed in between Joe and Marshal +Foch. The General gave the self-appointed protector one look, and he was +edged outside the circle and told to stay there, while Joe went on with +his dance.</p> + +<p>A marvelous Navajo rug was presented to the visitor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> by Father Vabre, +with the information that it was a gift from the Indians to their friend +from over the sea. He was reminded that when the call came for +volunteers many thousands of Arizona Indians left their desert home and +went across the sea to fight for a government that had never recognized +them as worthy to be its citizens.</p> + +<p>The General's face lighted up as he accepted the gift, and he replied +that he would carry the rug with him and lay it before his own +hearthstone, and that he would tell his children its story so that after +he had gone on they would cherish it as he had and never part with it. +One likes to think that perhaps during his last days on earth his eyes +fell on this bright rug, reminding him that in faraway Arizona his +friends were thinking of him and hoping for his recovery.</p> + +<p>A wildcat presented by an admirer was voted too energetic a gift to +struggle with, so it was left in the bear cage on the Rim. Somebody +turned it out and it committed suicide by leaping into the Canyon.</p> + +<p>A raw cold wind, such as can blow only at the Canyon, swept around the +train as it carried Marshal Foch away. That wind brought tragedy and +sorrow to us there at El Tovar, for, exposed to its cold blast, Mr. +Brant, the hotel manager, contracted pneumonia. Travelers from all parts +of the world knew and loved this genial and kindly gentleman. He had +welcomed guests to El Tovar from the day its portals were first opened +to tourists. Marshal Foch was the last guest he welcomed or waved to in +farewell, for when the next day dawned he was fighting for life and in a +few days he was gone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>He had loved the Canyon with almost a fanatic's devotion, and although +Captain Hance had not been buried on its Rim as had been his deep +desire, Mr. Brant's grave was located not far from the El Tovar, +overlooking the Great Chasm. The tomb had to be blasted from solid rock. +All night long the dull rumble of explosives told me that the rangers, +led by the wearer of the Croix de Guerre, were toiling away. The first +snow of the season was falling when the funeral cortège started for the +grave. White Mountain and other friends were pall-bearers, and twenty +cowboys on black horses followed the casket. Father Vabre read the +burial service, and George Wharton James spoke briefly of the friendship +which had bound them together for many years. Since that time both the +good priest and the famous author have passed on.</p> + +<p>Mr. Brant had an Airedale dog that was his constant companion. For days +after his death this dog would get his master's hat and stick and search +all over the hotel for him. He thought it was time for their daily walk. +When the dog died they buried him near his master's grave. This had been +Mr. Brant's request.</p> + +<p>The snow grew deeper and the mercury continued to go down, until it was +almost impossible to spend much time outside. But the little iron stove +stuffed full of pine wood kept the cabin fairly warm, and the birds and +squirrels learned to stay close to the stovepipe on the roof.</p> + +<p>The squirrels would come to the cabin windows and pat against them with +their tiny paws. They were begging for something to eat, and if a door +or window were left open a minute it was good-by to anything found on +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> table. Bread, cake, or even fruit was a temptation not to be +resisted. One would grab the prize and dart up the trunk of a big pine +tree with the whole tribe hot-footing it right after him. One bold +fellow waylaid me one morning when I opened the door, and bounced up on +the step and into the kitchen. I shoved him off the cabinet, and he +jumped on top of the stove. That wasn't hot enough to burn him but +enough to make him good and mad, so he scrambled to my shoulder, ran +down my arm, and sank his teeth in my hand. Then he ran up to the top of +the shelves and sat there chattering and scolding until the Chief came +home and gave him the bum's rush. This same fellow bit the Chief, too; +but I always felt <i>he</i> had it coming to him. White Mountain had a glass +jar of piñon nuts, and he would hold them while the squirrels came and +packed their jaws full. They looked too comical with their faces puffed +up like little boys with mumps. When "Bunty" came for his share, the +Chief placed his hand tightly over the top, just to tease him. He wanted +to see what would happen. He found out. Bunty ran his paws over the +slick surface of the jar two or three times, but couldn't find any way +to reach the tempting nuts. He stopped and thought about the situation a +while, then it seemed to dawn on him that he was the victim of a +practical joke. All at once he jumped on the Chief's hand, buried his +teeth in his thumb, then hopped to a lumber pile and waited for +developments. He got the nuts, jar and all, right at his head. He +side-stepped the assault and gloated over his store of piñons the rest +of the afternoon.</p> + +<p>It had been an off year for piñons, so boxes were put up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> in sheltered +nooks around the park and the rangers always put food into them while +making patrols. I carried my pockets full of peanuts while riding the +trails, and miles from Headquarters the squirrels learned to watch for +me. I learned to look out for them also, after one had dropped from an +overhanging bough to the flank of a sensitive horse I was riding. The +Fred Harvey boys purchased a hundred pounds of peanuts for the little +fellows, and the animals also learned to beg from tourists. All a +squirrel had to do in order to keep well stuffed was to sit up in the +middle of the road and look cunning.</p> + +<p>One day a severe cold kept me in bed. Three or four of the little +rascals found an entrance and came pell-mell into the house. One located +a cookie and the others chased him into my room with it. For half an +hour they fought and raced back and fourth over my bed while I kept +safely hidden under the covers, head and all. During a lull I took a +cautious look around. There they sat, lined up like schoolboys, on the +dresser, trying to get at the impudent squirrels in the glass! Failing +in that, they investigated the bottles and boxes. They didn't care much +for the smell of camphor, but one poke-nosey fellow put his nose in the +powder jar and puffed; when he backed away, he looked like a merry old +Santa Claus, his whiskers white with powder and his black eyes +twinkling.</p> + +<p>Once the Chief gave them some Eastern chestnuts and black walnuts. They +were bewildered. They rolled them over and over in their paws and +sniffed at them, but made no effort to cut into the meat. We watched to +see what they would do, and they took those funny nuts out under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> the +trees and buried them good and deep. Maybe they thought time would +mellow them.</p> + +<p>But the worst thing those little devils did to me happened later. I had +cooked dinner for some of the powers-that-be from Washington, and for +dessert I made three most wonderful lemon pies. They were dreams! Each +one sported fluffy meringue not less than three inches thick (and eggs +eighty cents a dozen). They were cooling on a shelf outside the door. +Along comes greedy Mr. Bunty looking for something to devour.</p> + +<p>"You go away. I'm looking for real company and can't be bothered with +you!" I told him, and made a threatening motion with the broom.</p> + +<p>He went—right into the first pie, and from that to the middle one; of +course he couldn't slight the third and last one, so he wallowed across +it. Then the horrid beast climbed a tree in front of my window. He +cleaned, and polished, and lapped meringue off his gray squirrel coat, +while I wiped tears and thought up a suitable epitaph for him. A dirty +Supai squaw enjoyed the pies. She and her assorted babies ate them, +smacking and gabbling over them just as if they hadn't been bathed in by +a wild animal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img052.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter V: NAVAJO LAND</i></h3> + + +<p>Indians! Navajos! How many wide-eyed childhood hours had I spent +listening to stories of these ferocious warriors! And yet, here they +were as tame as you please, walking by my door and holding out their +native wares to sell.</p> + +<p>From the first instant my eyes rested upon a Navajo rug, I was +fascinated by the gaudy thing. The more I saw, the more they appealed to +the gypsy streak in my makeup. Each Navajo buck that came to my door +peddling his rugs and silver ornaments was led into the house and +questioned. Precious little information I was able to abstract at first +from my saturnine visitors. As we became better acquainted, and they +learned to expect liberal draughts of coffee sweetened into a syrup, +sometimes their tongues loosened; but still I couldn't get all the +information I craved regarding those marvelous rugs and how they were +made.</p> + +<p>Finally the Chief decided to spend his vacation by taking me on a trip +out into the Painted Desert, the home<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> of this nomadic tribe. We chose +the early days of summer after the spring rains had brought relief to +the parched earth and replenished the water holes where we expected to +camp each night. Another reason was that a great number of the tribal +dances would be in full swing at this time. Old "Smolley," an antique +"navvy," had just disposed of a supply of rugs and was wending his way +homeward at the same time. Not choosing to travel in solitude, he firmly +fastened himself to our caravan. I would have preferred his absence, for +he was a vile, smelly old creature with bleary eyes and coarse uncombed +gray hair tied into a club and with a red band around his head. His +clothes were mostly a pair of cast-off overalls, which had not been +discarded by the original owner until he was in danger of arrest for +indecent exposure. Incessant wear night and day by Smolley had not +improved their looks. But Smolley knew that I never could see him hungry +while we ate; consequently he stuck closer than a brother. Our +hospitality was well repaid later, for he took care that we saw the +things we wanted to see in Navajo Land.</p> + +<p>The first day we rode through magnificent groves of stately yellow pines +which extended from Grand Canyon out past Grand View and the picturesque +old stage tavern there which is the property of Mr. W. R. Hearst. Quite +a distance beyond there we stopped for lunch on a little knoll covered +with prehistoric ruins. I asked Smolley what had become of the people +who had built the homes lying at our feet. He grunted a few times and +said that they were driven out on a big rock by their enemies and then +the god caused the rock to fly away with them some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>where else. +Interesting, if true. I decided that my guess was as good as his, so let +the subject drop. It must have been a long time ago, for there were +juniper trees growing from the middle of these ruins that the Chief said +were almost three thousand years old. (He had sawed one down not much +larger than these, polished the trunk and counted the annual rings with +a magnifying-glass, and found it to be well over that age.) Among the +rocks and débris, we found fragments of pottery painted not unlike the +present Zuñi ware, and other pieces of the typical basket pottery +showing the marks of woven vessels inside of which they had been +plastered thousands of years ago. I fell to dreaming of those vanished +people, the hands that had shaped this clay long since turned to dust +themselves. What had their owner thought of, hoped, or planned while +fashioning this bowl, fragments of which I turned over in my palms aeons +later? But the lunch-stop ended, and we moved on.</p> + +<p>That night we camped at Desert View and with the first streak of dawn we +prepared to leave the beaten path and follow a trail few tourists +attempt. When we reached the Little Colorado, we followed Smolley +implicitly as we forded the stream. "Chollo," our pack mule, became +temperamental halfway across and bucked the rest of the way. I held my +breath, expecting to see our cargo fly to the four winds; but the Chief +had not packed notional mules for years in vain. A few pans rattled, and +later I discovered that my hair brush was well smeared with jam. No +other damage was done.</p> + +<p>All day long we rode through the blazing sun. I kept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> my eyes shut as +much as possible, for the sun was so glaring that it sent sharp pains +through my head. In front the Chief rode placidly on. Outside of turning +him into a beautiful brick red, the sun seemingly did not affect him. +Smolley was dozing. But I was in agony with thirst and heat and +weariness. My horse, a gift from the Chief which I had not been wise +enough to try out on a short journey before undertaking such a trip, was +as stiff as a wooden horse. I told the Chief I knew Mescal was +knock-kneed and stiff-legged.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," was the casual reply, "he's a little stiff in the shoulders +from his fall."</p> + +<p>"What fall?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I loaned him to one of the rangers last week and he took him down +the Hermit Trail and Mescal fell overboard."</p> + +<p>"Is he subject to vertigo?" I wanted to know. I had heard we should have +steep trails to travel on this trip.</p> + +<p>"No; the ranger loaded him with two water kegs, and when Mescal got +excited on a steep switchback the ranger lost his head and drove him +over the edge. He fell twenty feet and was knocked senseless. It took +two hours to get him out again."</p> + +<p>"Some ranger," was my heated comment; "who was it?"</p> + +<p>"No matter," said the Chief. "He isn't a ranger any more." The Chief +said Mescal did not suffer any from the stiffness, but I'll admit that I +suffered both mentally and physically. Anyway I had that to worry about +and it took my mind off the intolerable heat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>Almost before we knew it a storm gathered and broke directly over our +heads. There was no shelter, so we just kept riding. I had visions of +pneumonia and sore throat and maybe rheumatism. In fact I began to feel +twinges of rheumatics, but the Chief scoffed. He said I should have had +a twelve-inch saddle instead of a fourteen and if I wasn't so dead set +on a McClellan instead of a Western Stock I would be more comfortable. +He draped a mackinaw around me and left me to my fate. I wasn't scared +by the storm, but Mescal was positively unnerved. He trembled and +cringed at every crash. I had always enjoyed electrical storms, but I +never experienced one quite so personal before. Cartwheels and +skyrockets exploded under my very nose and blue flame wrapped all around +us. The Chief had gone on in search of the pack mule, and I was alone +with Smolley. Through a lull in the storm I caught a glimpse of him. He +slouched stolidly in the saddle as unconcernedly as he had slouched in +the broiling heat. In fact I think he was still dozing.</p> + +<p>As suddenly as the storm had come it was gone, and we could see it ahead +of us beating and lashing the hot sands. Clouds of earthy steam rose +enveloping us, but as these cleared away the air was as cool and pure +and sweet as in a New England orchard in May. On a bush by the trail a +tiny wren appeared and burst into song like a vivacious firecracker. +Rock squirrels darted here and there, and tiny cactus flowers opened +their sleepy eyes and poured out fragrance. And then, by and by, it was +evening and we were truly in Navajo Land.</p> + +<p>We made our camp by a water hole replenished by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> the recent rain. While +the Chief hobbled the horses I drank my fill of the warm, brackish water +and lay back on the saddles to rest. The Chief came into camp and put a +can of water on the fire to boil. When it boiled he said, "Do you want a +drink of this hot water or can you wait until it cools?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had a good drink while you were gone," I answered drowsily.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get it? The canteens were dry."</p> + +<p>"Why, out of the waterhole, of course"; I was impatient that he could be +so stupid.</p> + +<p>"You did? Well, unless God holds you in the palm of his hand you will be +good and sick. That water is full of germs. To say nothing of a dead cow +or two. I thought you had better sense than to drink water from holes in +the ground." I rose up and took another look at the oasis. Sure enough, +horns and a hoof protruded from one end of the mudhole. I sank back +weakly and wondered why I had ever thought I wanted to visit the +Navajos. I hoped my loved ones back in the Virginias would not know how +I died. It sounded too unromantic to say one passed out from drinking +dead cow! I might as well say here that evidently I was held firmly by +the Deity, for I felt no ill effects whatever. I couldn't eat any +supper, but I knew Smolley would soon blow in and it would not be +wasted.</p> + +<p>As dusk settled around us we could almost hear the silence. Here and +there a prairie owl would whirl low to the ground with a throaty chuckle +for a time, but that soon ceased. Across the fire I could see the dull +glow of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> the Chief's cigarette, but the air was so quiet that not the +faintest odor of tobacco drifted to me. While we lolled there, half +waking, half dreaming, Old Smolley stepped noiselessly into camp and at +a wave of the Chief's hand swiftly emptied the coffeepot and skillet. He +wiped his greasy mouth on his sleeve and said: "Sing-sing this night. +Three braves sick. Sing 'em well. You wanna see?"</p> + +<p>Did we! I was up and ready before his last word was out. We followed him +for ten minutes up a dry wash filled with bowlders and dry brush. I +stepped high and wide, fully expecting to be struck by a rattlesnake any +minute. I knew if I said anything the Chief would laugh at me, so I +stayed behind him and looked after my own safety. We reached a little +mesa at the head of the coulee and found Indians of all shapes and sizes +assembled there. Two or three huge campfires were crackling, and a pot +of mutton stewed over one of them. Several young braves were playing +cards, watched by a bevy of giggling native belles. The lads never +raised their eyes to the girls, but they were quite conscious of +feminine observation.</p> + +<p>Three men, grievously ill indeed, and probably made worse by the long +ride to the scene of the dance, were lying in a hogan built of +cottonwood branches. Outside, standing closely packed together, were the +Navajo bucks and the medicine men. When an Indian is sick he goes to the +doctor instead of sending for the doctor to visit him. And then +invitations are sent out all over the Reservation for the singers to +come and assist in the cure. The Navajos had responded loyally on this +occasion and were grouped according to location. One group would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> sing +the weird minor wail for half an hour and then another bunch would break +in for a few minutes, only to have still a third delegation snatch the +song away from them. So closely did they keep time and so smoothly did +one bunch take up where another left off that we, standing less than +twenty feet away, could not tell which group was singing except when the +Tuba City crowd took up the plaint. Their number was so small that they +couldn't get out much noise. The Indians had discarded their civilized +garb for the occasion and were clad mostly in atmosphere helped out with +a gee-string of calico. Some had streaks of white and black paint on +them. I fell to dreaming of what it would have meant to be captured by +such demons only a few years ago, and it wasn't long until I lost +interest in that scene. I was ready to retreat. We watched the medicine +men thump and bang the invalids with bunches of herbs and prayer sticks +a few minutes longer; then with Smolley as our guide we wandered over to +the Squaw Dance beside another bonfire, located at a decorous distance +from the improvised hospital hogan.</p> + +<p>The leading squaw, with a big bunch of feathers fastened to a stick, +advanced to the fire and made a few impressive gestures. She was garbed +in the wide, gathered calico skirt, the velvet basque trimmed with +silver buttons, and the high brown moccasins so dear to feminine +Navajos. The orchestra was vocal, the bucks again furnishing the music. +After circling around the spectators a few times the squaw decided on +the man she wanted and with one hand took a firm grasp of his shirt just +above the belt. Then she galloped backward around him while he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> was +dragged helplessly about with her, looking as sheepish as the mutton +simmering in the kettle. Other squaws picked partners and soon there +were numerous couples doing the silly prance. Silly it looked to us, but +I thought of a few of our civilized dances and immediately reversed my +opinion.</p> + +<p>The squaws occasionally prowled around among the spectators, keeping in +the shadows and seeking white men for partners. These, mostly cowboys +and trading-post managers, were wary, and only one was caught napping. +It cost him all the loose silver he had in his pocket to get rid of the +tiny fat squaw that had captured him.</p> + +<p>We were told that dances and races would continue for several days, and +so, firmly bidding good night to Smolley, we went back to camp and fell +asleep with the faint hubbub coming to us now and then.</p> + +<p>Almost before the Chief had breakfast started the next morning Smolley +stepped into the scene and took a prominent seat near the steaming +coffeepot. "You arrive early," I remarked. "Now how could you know that +breakfast was so near ready?" This last a trifle sarcastically, I fear. +"Huh, me, I sleep here," pointing to the side of a rock not ten feet +from my own downy bed. That settled me for keeps. I subsided and just +gazed with a fatal hypnotism at the flapjacks disappearing down his +ample gullet. It was fatal, for while I was spellbound the last one +disappeared and I had to make myself some more or go without breakfast. +When Smolley had stilled the first fierce pangs of starvation he pulled +a pair of moccasins out of the front of his dirty shirt and tossed them +to me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> (The gesture had somewhat the appearance of tossing a bone to an +angry dog.) Anyway the dog was appeased. The moccasins had stiff rawhide +soles exactly shaped to fit my foot, and the uppers were soft brown +buckskin beautifully tanned. They reached well above the ankles and +fastened on the side with three fancy silver buttons made by a native +silversmith. A tiny turquoise was set in the top of each button. I +marveled at the way they fitted, until the Chief admitted that he had +given Smolley one of my boudoir slippers for a sample. Eventually the +other slipper went to a boot manufacturer and I became the possessor of +real hand-made cowboy boots.</p> + +<p>Breakfast disposed of, we mounted and went in search of a rug factory, +that being the initial excuse for the journey. A mile or two away we +found one in operation. The loom consisted of two small cottonwood trees +with cross-beams lashed to them, one at the top and the other at the +bottom. A warp frame with four lighter sticks forming a square was +fastened within the larger frame. The warp was drawn tight, with the +threads crossed halfway to the top. Different-colored yarns were wound +on a short stick, and with nimble fingers a squaw wove the pattern. +There was no visible pattern for her to follow. She had that all mapped +out in her brain, and followed it instinctively. I asked her to describe +the way the rug would look when finished, and she said, "No can tell. Me +know here," tapping her forehead. I liked the way the weaving was begun, +and so I squatted there in the sunshine for two hours trying to get her +to talk. Finally I gave her ten dollars for the rug when it should be +finished and little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> by little she began to tell me the things I wanted +to know. We made no real progress in our conversation until I learned +that she had been a student at Sherman Indian Institute for eight years. +When she found that I knew the school well and some of the teachers, a +look of discontent and unhappiness came over her face. She said that she +had been very, very happy at Sherman. With a wave of her slender brown +hand she said: "Look at this!" Her eyes rested with distaste on the +flock of sheep grazing near, turned to the mud-daubed hogan behind us, +and swept on across the cactus-studded desert. "They teach us to sleep +in soft, white beds and to bathe in tile bathtubs. We eat white cooking. +We cook on electric stoves. We are white for years, and then they send +us back to this! We sleep on the earth, we cook with sheep-dung fires; +we have not water even for drinking. We hate our own people, we hate our +children when they come!" I was so startled at the outburst. Her English +was faultless. I had enough sense to keep still, and she went on more +quietly: "When I left Sherman I hoped to marry a boy there who was +learning the printer's trade. Then we could have lived as your people +do. My father sold me for ten ponies and forty sheep. I am a squaw now. +I live as squaws did hundreds of years ago. And so I try to be just a +squaw. I hope to die soon." And there it was, just as she said. Turned +into a white girl for eight years, given a long glimpse of the Promised +Land, then pushed back into slavery. We saw lots of that. It seemed as +though the ones that were born and lived and died without leaving the +reservation were much happier.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is your name?" I asked after we had been silent while her swift, +nervous fingers wove a red figure into a white background. "I'm Mollie, +Smolley's daughter." So the greedy old dog had sold his own child. That +is the usual thing, Mollie said. Girls are sold to the highest bidder, +but fortunately there is a saving clause. In case the girl dislikes her +husband too much she makes him so miserable he takes her back to her +father and they are divorced instantly. The father keeps the wedding +gifts and sells her again for more sheep and horses. The flocks really +belong to the women, but I can't see what good they do them. The women +tend them and shear them and even nurse them. They wash and dye and card +and weave the wool into rugs, and then their lordly masters take the +rugs and sell them. A part of the money is gambled away on pony races or +else beaten into silver jewelry to be turned into more money. A certain +number of rugs are turned in to the trading-post for groceries, calico, +and velvet. Navajos never set a table or serve a meal. They cook any +time there is anything to cook, and then when the grub is done, eat it +out of the pot with their fingers. They have no idea of saving anything +for the next meal. They gorge like dogs, and then starve perhaps for +days afterward.</p> + +<p>Mollie had two children, a slim, brown lad perhaps ten years old, who +was watching the sheep near by, and a tiny maid of three, sitting +silently by her mother. The boy seemed to have inherited some of his +mother's rebellion and discontent, but it appeared on his small face as +wistfulness. He was very shy, and when I offered him a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> silver coin he +made no move to take it. I closed his fingers around it, and he ran to +his mother with the treasure. As he passed me going back to his sheep, +he raised his great, sad black eyes and for a second his white teeth +flashed in a friendly grin.</p> + +<p>The men folks had wandered on to the races a mile away, and Mollie, the +babe, and I followed. There was no business of closing up house when we +left. She just put the bright wool out of the reach of pack rats and we +were ready. I admired her forethought, for only the night before I had +lost a cake of soap, one garter, and most of my hairpins. Of course the +rat was honest, for he had left a dried cactus leaf, a pine cone, and +various assorted sticks and straws in place of what he took. That's why +this particularly vexing rodent is called a "trade rat." I used to hear +that it takes two to make a bargain. That knowledge has not penetrated +into pack-ratdom.</p> + +<p>A few Hopi and Supai Indians were darting around on show ponies, spotted +and striped "Paints," as they call them. A Navajo lad came tearing down +upon us, riding a most beautiful sorrel mare. It seemed that he would +ride us down; but I never did run from an Indian, so I stood my ground. +With a blood-chilling war whoop he pulled the mare to her haunches and +laughed down at me. He was dressed as a white man would be and spoke +perfect English. He was just home from Sherman, he explained, and was +going to race his mare against the visitors. I took his picture on the +mare, and he told me where to send it to him after it was finished. "I +hope you win. I'm betting on you for Mollie," I told him and gave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> him +some money. He did win! Around the smooth hillside the ponies swept, and +when almost at the goal he leaned forward and whistled in the mare's +ear. She doubled up like a jackknife and when she unfolded she was a +nose ahead of them all. Every race ended the same way. He told me he won +two hundred silver dollars all told. I am wearing a bracelet now made +from one of them. Very seldom does one see a rattlesnake portrayed in +any Hopi or Navajo work, but I had my heart set on a rattlesnake +bracelet. Silversmith after silversmith turned me down flat, until at +last Mollie and the boy told me they would see that I got what I wanted. +A month later a strange Indian came to my house, handed me a package +with a grunt, and disappeared. It was my bracelet. I always wear it to +remind me of my visit to Navajo Land.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img066.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter VI: "THEY KILLED ME"</i></h3> + + +<p>White Mountain and I walked out to the cemetery one evening at sunset, +and I asked him to tell me about the four sleeping there. One trampled +grave, without a marker, was the resting-place of a forest ranger who +had died during the flu epidemic. At that time no body could be shipped +except in a metal casket, and since it had been impossible to secure one +he was buried far from his home and people. The mother wrote she would +come and visit the grave as soon as she had enough money, but death took +her too and she was spared seeing his neglected grave.</p> + +<p>The Chief stood looking down at the third grave, which still held the +weather-beaten débris of funeral wreaths.</p> + +<p>"Cap Hance is buried here," he said. "He was a dear friend of mine."</p> + +<p>From his tone I scented a story, and as we strolled back to Headquarters +he told me something of the quaint old character. In the days that +followed, I heard his name<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> often. Travelers who had not been at the +Canyon for several years invariably inquired for "Cap" as soon as they +arrived. I always felt a sense of personal shame when I heard a ranger +directing them to his grave. He had begged with his last breath to be +buried in the Canyon, or else on the Rim overlooking it. "God willing, +and man aiding," as he always said. However, his wish had been ignored, +for the regular cemetery is some distance from the Rim.</p> + +<p>This Captain John Hance was the first settler on the Rim of the Grand +Canyon. The Hance Place is located about three miles east of Grand View +Point. Here he built the old Hance Trail into the Canyon, and discovered +numerous copper and asbestos mines. Many notables of the early days +first saw the Canyon from his home, staging in there from Flagstaff, +seventy miles away. He had an inexhaustible fund of stories, mostly made +up out of whole cloth. These improbable tales were harmless, however, +and in time he became almost an institution at the Canyon. The last +years of his life were spent at El Tovar, regaling the tourists with his +colorful and imaginary incidents of the wild and woolly days.</p> + +<p>He was quite proud of his Munchausenian abilities. Another old-timer at +the Canyon, W. W. Bass, who is still alive, was Cap's best friend. Cap +Hance was often heard to declare: "There are three liars here at the +Canyon; I'm one and Bass is the other two."</p> + +<p>Romantic old ladies at El Tovar often pressed him for a story of his +early fights with the Indians. Here is one of his experiences:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Once, a good many years ago when I was on the outs with the Navajos, I +was riding the country a few miles back from here looking up some of my +loose horses. I happened to cast my eye over to one side and saw a bunch +of the red devils out looking for trouble. I saw that I was outnumbered, +so I spurred old Roaney down into a draw at the left, hoping that I +hadn't been seen. I got down the draw a little piece and thought I had +given them the slip, but the yelling told me that they were still after +me. I thought I could go down this draw a ways and then circle out and +get back to my ranch. But I kept going down the canyon and the walls +kept getting steeper and steeper, and narrower and narrower until +finally they got so close together that me and Roaney stuck right +there."</p> + +<p>At this point he always stopped and rolled a cigarette. The ladies were +invariably goggle-eyed with excitement and would finally exclaim:</p> + +<p>"What happened then, Captain Hance?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they killed me," he'd say simply.</p> + +<p>Another time he was again being chased by Indians, and looking back over +his shoulder at them, not realizing that he was so near the Rim of the +Canyon, his horse ran right up to the edge and jumped off into space.</p> + +<p>"I'd a been a goner that time," he said, "if I hadn't a had time to +think it over and decide what to do." (He fell something like five +thousand feet.) "So when my horse got within about fifteen feet from the +ground, I rose up in the stirrups and gave a little hop and landed on +the ground. All I got was a twisted ankle."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>A lady approached him one day while he stood on the Rim gazing into the +mile-deep chasm.</p> + +<p>"Captain Hance," she said, "I don't see any water in the Canyon. Is this +the dry season, or does it never have any water in it?"</p> + +<p>Gazing at her earnestly through his squinty, watery eyes, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Madam! In the early days many's the time I have rode my horse up here +and let him drink <i>right where we stand</i>!"</p> + +<p>The old fellow was a bachelor, but he insisted that in his younger days +he had married a beautiful girl. When asked what had become of her he +would look mournful and tell a sad tale of her falling over a ledge down +in the Canyon when they were on their honeymoon. He said it took him +three days to reach her, and that when he did locate her he found she +had sustained a broken leg, so he had to shoot her.</p> + +<p>As he grew feeble, he seemed to long for the quiet depths of the gorge, +and several times he slipped away and tried to follow the old trail he +had made in his youth. He wanted to die down at his copper mine. At +last, one night when he was near eighty years old, he escaped the +vigilance of his friends and with an old burro that had shared his +happier days he started down the trail. Ranger West got wind of it and +followed him. He found him where he had fallen from the trail into a +cactus patch and had lain all night exposed to the raw wind. He was +brought back and cared for tenderly, but he passed away. Prominent men +and women who had known and en<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>joyed him made up a fund to buy a bronze +plate for his grave. Remembering the size of his yarns, whoever placed +the enormous boulders at his head and feet put them nine feet apart.</p> + +<p>Halfway between my cabin and the Rim, in the pine woods, is a well-kept +grave with a neat stone and an iron fence around it. Here lies the body +of United States Senator Ashurst's father, who was an old-timer at the +Canyon. Years ago, while working a mine at the bottom of the Canyon, he +was caught by a cave-in and when his friends reached him he was dead. +They lashed his body on an animal and brought him up the steep trail to +be buried. While I was in Washington, Senator Ashurst told me of his +father's death and something of his life at the Canyon. He said that +often in the rush and worry of capitol life he longed for a few peaceful +moments at his father's grave.</p> + +<p>I never saw Senator Ashurst at the Grand Canyon, but another senator was +there often, stirring up some row or other with the Government men. He +seemed to think he owned the Canyon, the sky overhead, the dirt +underneath, and particularly the trail thereinto. His hirelings were +numerous, and each and every one was primed to worry Uncle Sam's +rangers. As dogs were prohibited in the Park, every employee of the +Senator's was amply provided with canines. Did the tourists particularly +enjoy dismounting for shade and rest at certain spots on the trail, +those places were sure to get fenced in and plastered with "Keep Off" +signs, under the pretense that they were mining claims and belonged to +him. We used to wonder what time this Senator found to serve his +constituents.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>Uncle Sam grew so weary of contesting every inch of the trail that he +set himself to build a way of his own for the people to use. Several men +under the direction of Ranger West were set to trail-building. They made +themselves a tent city on the north side of the river and packers were +kept busy taking mule loads of materials to them daily. Hundreds of +pounds of TNT were packed down safely, but one slippery morning the +horses which had been pressed into service lost their footing, slid over +the edge of the trail, and hit Bright Angel again a thousand feet below. +The packers held their breath expecting to be blown away, as two of the +horses that fell were loaded with the high explosive. It was several +minutes before they dared believe themselves safe. They sent for White +Mountain, and when he reached the animals he found they were literally +broken to pieces, their packs and cargoes scattered all over the side of +the mountain. They dragged the dead animals a few feet and dropped them +into a deep fissure which was handy. Fresh snow was scraped over the +blood-stained landscape, and when the daily trail party rode serenely +down a few minutes later there was nothing to show that a tragedy had +taken place.</p> + +<p>Later an enormous charge of this high explosive was put back of a point +that Rees Griffith, the veteran trail-builder, wished to remove, and the +result was awaited anxiously. About four in the afternoon Rees called +Headquarters and reported that the shot was a huge success. He was +greatly elated and said his work was about done.</p> + +<p>It was.</p> + +<p>An hour later Ranger West called for help: Rees had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> climbed to the top +to inspect the shot at close range, and a mammoth boulder loosened by +the blast came tumbling down, carrying Rees to the rocks below. He was +terribly crushed and broken, but made a gallant fight to live. In +looking over some notes I found a copy of White Mountain's report, which +tells the story much more completely than I could hope to:</p> + +<p>"In accordance with instructions, accompanied by Nurse Catti from El +Tovar I left Headquarters about 6:30 <span class="smcap">P.M.</span> bound for Camp +Roosevelt, to be of such assistance as possible to Rees Griffith, who +had been injured by a falling rock.</p> + +<p>"The night was not very cold, rather balmy than otherwise, and the +descent into the Canyon was made as quickly as possible, the factor of +safety being considered. Had we been engaged in any other errand the +mystical beauty of the Canyon, bathed in ethereal moonlight, would have +been greatly enjoyed. We reached the packers' camp at Pipe Creek at nine +o'clock and found hot coffee prepared for us. Miss Catti borrowed a pair +of chaps there from one of the boys, as the wind had come up and it was +much colder. We were warned to proceed slowly over the remainder of the +trail on account of packed ice in the trail. We covered Tonto Trail in +good time, but below the 1,500-foot level on down was very dangerous. +The tread of the trail was icy and in pitch darkness, the moonlight not +reaching there. However, we reached the bottom without mishap. Miss +Catti never uttered a word of complaint or fear, but urged me to go as +fast as I considered safe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When we reached Kaibab Suspension Bridge a ranger was waiting to take +our mules. We walked across the bridge and found other mules there. We +thus lost no time in crossing the bridge with animals.</p> + +<p>"We arrived at Camp Roosevelt a few minutes after eleven and went +immediately to where Rees had been carried. Examination showed that he +had been dead probably fifteen minutes. He had been unconscious since +nine-thirty. Two fellow-Mormons sat with the body the rest of the night.</p> + +<p>"When morning came arrangements were made with Rangers West and Peck to +pack the body out of the Canyon if it should be so ordered. (We would +have mounted a platform on a mule's back, lashed the body in place, and +packed it out in that manner.) However, we all felt that it would be +much better to bury him in the Canyon near the place where he lost his +life. After conferring with the Superintendent by telephone, Miss Catti, +Landscape Engineer Ferris, Rangers West, Peck, and myself selected a +spot considered proper from the point of landscape engineering, high +water, surface wash, and proximity to the trail. This place is about +five hundred yards west of the bridge in an alcove in the Archaean Rock +which forms the Canyon wall. We dug a grave there.</p> + +<p>"The carpenter made a very good coffin from materials at hand, and we +lined it with sheets sent down by Mrs. Smith for that purpose. She also +sent a Prayer Book and a Bible to us by Ranger Winess, who accompanied +the coroner to the scene of the accident. An impaneled jury of six<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +declared the death to be due to unavoidable accident. After the inquest +the coroner turned the personal effects of Rees over to me. They +consisted of a gold watch and two hundred and ninety dollars in a money +belt. I hold these subject to instructions from the widow. The body was +prepared for burial by wrapping it in white according to Mormon custom. +The coffin was carried to the grave, and, while our small company stood +uncovered, I said a few words to the effect that it was right that this +man should be laid to rest near the spot where he fell and where he had +spent a great part of his life; that it was fitting and proper that we +who had known him, worked with him, and loved him should perform this +last duty. Then the services for the burial of the dead were read, and +we left him there beside the trail he built."</p> + +<p>In the meantime I had been hovering anxiously at the phone, worried +about the dark, icy trail White Mountain and Nurse had to travel, and +fearing to hear that Rees was seriously injured. As soon as they reached +camp they called and said he had gone before they could get there. He +told me to wire the doctor at Williams and tell him he was not needed; +also to see that a message was sent to the wife and children of the dead +man telling them he would have to be buried in the Canyon where he was +killed. These errands were to be attended to over the local phone, but +for some reason the wire was dead. I was in a quandary. Just having +recovered from a prolonged attack of flu, I felt it unwise to go out in +several feet of snow, but that was my only course.</p> + +<p>Dressing as warmly as I could, I started up through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> the woods to ranger +quarters. The snow was above my waist, and I bumped into trees and fell +over buried logs before I reached the building. The long hall was in +darkness. I knew that most of the boys were out on duty. What if no one +were there! I knew my strength was about used up, and that I could never +cross the railroad tracks to the Superintendent's house.</p> + +<p>I went down the long cold hall knocking on every door. Nothing but +silence and plenty of it. I reached the door at the end of the hall and +knocked. Instantly I remembered that room belonged to Rees. His dog, +waiting to be taken down into the Canyon, leaped against the inside of +the door and went into a frenzy of howling and barking. I was +panic-stricken, and my nerve broke. I began to scream. Ranger Winess had +slept all through my knocking, but with the first scream he developed a +nightmare. He was back in the Philippines surrounded by fighting Moros +and one was just ready to knife him! He turned loose a yell that crowded +my feeble efforts aside. Finally he got organized and came to my rescue. +I told him Rees was dead and gave him the Chief's message.</p> + +<p>"All right. I'll get dressed and attend to everything. You better get +back to bed."</p> + +<p>I informed him I would not move an inch until I had company back through +the darkness. He then took me home, and went to make arrangements.</p> + +<p>I called the Chief and told him Ranger Winess was on the job. Then I +tried to sleep again. Coyotes howled. Rees' dog barked faintly; a +screech owl in a tree near by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> moaned and complained, and my thoughts +kept going with the sad news to the little home Rees had built for his +family in Utah.</p> + +<p>Strange trampling, grinding noises close to the window finally made me +so nervous I just had to investigate. Taking the Chief's "forty-five," +which was a load in itself, I opened the rear door and crept around the +house. And there was a poor hungry pony that had wandered away from an +Indian camp, and found the straw packed around our water pipes. He was +losing no time packing himself around the straw. I was so relieved I +could have kissed his shaggy nose. I went back to bed and slept +soundly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img077.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter VII: A GRAND CANYON CHRISTMAS</i></h3> + + +<p>Funny how one can never get over being homesick at Christmas. Days and +weeks and even months can pass by without that yearning for family and +home, but in all the years since I hung my stocking in front of the big +fireplace in the old home I have never learned to face Christmas Eve in +a strange place with any degree of happiness. I believe the rangers all +felt the same way. Several days before Christmas they began to plan a +real "feed."</p> + +<p>We had moved into our new house now, and it was decided to make a home +of it by giving a Christmas housewarming.</p> + +<p>The rangers all helped to prepare the dinner. Each one could choose one +dish he wanted cooked and it was cooked, even if we had to send to +Montgomery Ward and Company for the makin's. Ranger Fisk opined that +turkey dressing without oysters in it would be a total loss as far as he +was concerned, so we ordered a gallon from the Coast. They arrived three +days before Christmas, and it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> was his duty to keep them properly +interred in a snow drift until the Great Day arrived.</p> + +<p>Ranger Winess wanted pumpkin pies with plenty of ginger; White Mountain +thought roast turkey was about his speed. Since we would have that +anyway, he got another vote. This time he called for mashed turnips and +creamed onions. The Superintendent, Colonel White, being an Englishman, +asked plaintively if we couldn't manage a plum pudding! We certainly +managed one just bursting with plums. That made him happy for the rest +of the day.</p> + +<p>I didn't tell anybody what I intended to have for my own special dish, +but when the time came I produced a big, rich fruit cake, baked back +home by my own mother, and stuffed full of nuts and fruit and ripened to +a perfect taste.</p> + +<p>All the rangers helped to prepare the feast. One of them rode down the +icy trail to Indian Gardens and brought back crisp, spicy watercress to +garnish the turkey.</p> + +<p>After it became an effort to chew, and impossible to swallow, we washed +the dishes and gathered around the blazing fire. Ranger Winess produced +his omnipresent guitar and swept the strings idly for a moment. Then he +began to sing, "Silent Night, Holy Night." That was the beginning of an +hour of the kind of music one remembers from childhood. Just as each one +had chosen his favorite dish, now each one selected his favorite +Christmas song. When I asked for "Little Town of Bethlehem" nobody +hesitated over the words. We all knew it better than we do "Star +Spangled Banner!" I could have prophe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>sied what Colonel White would call +for, so it was no surprise when he swung into "God rest ye merry, +gentlemen, let nothing ye dismay." Fortunately, most of us had sung +carols in our distant youth, and we sang right with the Colonel.</p> + +<p>Someone suggested that each one tell of the strangest Christmas Day he +or she had ever spent. For a while none of us were in Arizona. Ranger +Winess was in a state of siege in the Philippines, while the Moros +worked themselves into a state of frenzy for the attack that followed; +Ranger Fisk scaled Table Mountain, lying back of Capetown, and there +picked a tiny white flower which he had pressed in the Bible presented +to him there that day; each sailor in port had received a Bible that day +with this inscription: "Capetown, Africa, Christ's Birthday, December +25, 19—." White Mountain snowshoed twenty miles in Yellowstone to have +Christmas dinner with another ranger, but when he got there he found his +friend delirious with flu. "Did he die?" we questioned anxiously. Ranger +Winess and the Chief looked at each other and grinned.</p> + +<p>"Do I look like a dead one?" Ranger Winess demanded.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't let him die," White Mountain said. "We had just lost one +Government man, mysteriously, and hadn't any more to spare. So I got his +dogs and sledge and hauled him into Headquarters."</p> + +<p>Of course we wanted to know about the "lost" ranger. It seemed that +there had broken out among the buffalo herd in the Park a strange malady +that was killing them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> all off. An expert from Washington was en route +to make a study of the ailment, and was due to arrive just before +Christmas. Days passed into weeks and still he didn't show up. Inquiries +to Washington disclosed that he had started as per schedule. Tracing his +journey step by step it was discovered that on the train out of Chicago +he had become ill with flu and had been left in a small town hospital. +There he had died without recovering his speech, and had been buried in +the potter's field!</p> + +<p>"Well, then what happened to the buffalo?"</p> + +<p>"Washington sent us a German scientist. We loved that nation just about +that time, and on his arrival diplomatic relations were badly strained. +He was too fat and soft to use snowshoes or skis, so we loaded him on a +light truck and started for the buffalo farm. We stalled time and again, +and he sat in lordly indifference while we pushed and shoveled out. We +seemed hopelessly anchored in one drift, and from his perch where he sat +swaddled up like a mummy came his 'Vy don't you carry a portable +telephone so ve couldt hook it over the vires and call for <i>them</i> to +come and pull us oudt?' One of the rangers replied, 'It would be nice +for us to telephone ourselves to please pull us oudt. <i>We</i> are the +<i>them</i> that does the pulling around here.'</p> + +<p>"The old boy mumbled and sputtered but rolled out and put a husky +shoulder to the wheel, and we went on our way rejoicing. He won our +respect at the buffalo farm for he soon discovered the germ that was +killing our charges, and he prepared a serum with which we vaccinated +the entire herd."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wow!" Colonel White exclaimed. "I think I'd rather fight Moros than +vaccinate buffalo." He, too, had spent years in foreign warfare; his +experiences are graphically told in <i>Bullets and Bolos</i>.</p> + +<p>While we heard about the buffalo, one of the rangers left the room. He +came back presently, and White Mountain said to me: "Don't you want to +see your Christmas present?"</p> + +<p>I looked across at my proud new riding-boots, with their fancy +stitching, and funny high heels just like those the rangers wore. "I'm +crazy about them," I said.</p> + +<p>But the whole bunch were laughing. White Mountain led me to the door, +and there I had my first glimpse of Tar Baby! He was a four-year-old +horse that had spent those years running wild on the range. A few months +before he had been captured and partly tamed. But he was hard-mouthed, +and stiff-necked and hell-bent on having his own way about things. I +didn't know all that when I saw him this Christmas Day. To me he was +perfect. He was round and fat, shiny black, with a white star in his +forehead, and four white feet. One eye was blue, and the other one the +nicest, softest, kindest brown! He was just that kind of a Dr. Jekyll +and Mr. Hyde horse, too! He was fitted out with a new saddle, a gaudy +Navajo saddle blanket, and a bridle with silver inlaid fittings. The +spade bit was necessary. I found that out later, also.</p> + +<p>I would have stood there speechless with admiration the rest of the day, +but the others reminded me it was time to light the big tree we had +planned for the children in the Park.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>The rangers had brought a slender fir into the Information Room and we +had it trimmed within an inch of its life. Cranberries and popcorn ropes +festooned its branches, and again Montgomery Ward and Company's +catalogue had been searched for treasures to load it with. Every child +in the Park, regardless of race or color, was remembered. Little brown +brothers, whose Filipino mothers worked in the laundry, found themselves +possessors of strange toys; Navajo babies and Hopi cupids from the Hopi +House were well supplied. One small Hopi lass wailed loudly at the look +of the flaxen-haired doll that fell to her lot. She was afraid to hold +it—she wouldn't let anybody else touch it—so she stood it in a corner +and squalled at it from a safe distance. When the party was over, an +older sister had to carry it for her. I suspect she much preferred her +native dolls.</p> + +<p>After the tree was bare, we all went down to the Fred Harvey Recreation +Room and danced the rest of the evening away.</p> + +<p>I could hardly wait for morning to go for a ride on Tar Baby. Ranger +West brought him down to the house to saddle him. While I dressed up in +my new boots I overheard the conversation between the ranger and the +horse. It was a rather one-sided talk, but quite interesting.</p> + +<p>"Whoa there, Tar Baby!" very firmly and casually. "Stand still now!"</p> + +<p>"Hey, now, you black devil, don't you try bitin' me again! Yes, he's a +nice baby horse," this last remark quite saccharine. A slight silence +fell while the cinches were being tightened, then—heels beating a tune +on the side of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> the shed, and sultry, sulphuric remarks being fitted to +the tune. About that time I was ready to go out.</p> + +<p>"Have any trouble with Tar Baby?"</p> + +<p>"No, oh, no. None whatever. Ready to go?"</p> + +<p>Every morning as soon as I was in the saddle we had the same argument. +Would he go where and as fast as I desired, or would he run as fast and +as far as he pleased? Sore wrists and a strained disposition were the +price I paid for winning the battle. He just went wild if he could race +with another horse. Of course White Mountain put his foot down on such +racing, and since the rangers were such good sports their Chief never +learned that racing was part of the daily program!</p> + +<p>One day, when some of the Washington officials were there, the Chief +borrowed Tar Baby to ride. He said it took him half a day to get him to +stay on the ground with the other horses. He came home fully determined +that I must trade my Christmas gift for a more sensible horse. Tears and +coaxing availed nothing, but I did win his consent to one more ride +before I gave him up.</p> + +<p>Ranger West was going to ride the drift fence and I started out with +him. Tar Baby was a handful that day, and I was having all I could do to +control him. We passed a bunch of tourists having lunch out of paper +sacks, and one of the men had a wonderful idea. He said something to the +others, and while they giggled he blew one of the bags full of air and +exploded it right under my horse. Of course Tar Baby bolted, and even as +he ran away I admired his ability to keep ahead of Ranger West, who was +running full tilt after us. It was five minutes before I could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> get the +bit out of his teeth and bring the spade device into play. I had to +choke him into submission.</p> + +<p>Ranger West and Ranger Fisk conducted those tourists out of the Park, +and they had to leave without seeing the Canyon.</p> + +<p>"Ve drove here from New York to see this Canyon," one complained, and +made wide gestures with both hands.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't do you any good to see it," Ranger West told him grimly. +"You'd probably push somebody over the edge to have a little fun."</p> + +<p>I was sure the Chief would take Tar Baby away after that. But I guess he +thought if the horse hadn't killed me with such a good chance as he had, +I was safe. He never said another word about selling him.</p> + +<p>Several Indians were camped around in the woods near the Park, and we +visited them quite often. An Indian has as many angles in his makeup as +a centipede has legs. Just about the time you think you have one +characteristically placed, you put your finger down and he isn't there. +Charge one with dishonesty, and the next week he will ride a hundred +miles to deliver a bracelet you paid for months before. Decide he is +cruel and inhuman, and he will spend the night in heart-breaking labor, +carrying an injured white man to safety.</p> + +<p>I suggested hiring a certain Navajo to cut some wood, and was told that +he was too lazy to eat what he wanted. In a few days this same brave +came to Headquarters with the pelt of a cougar. He had followed the +animal sixty miles, tracking it in the snow on foot without a dog to +help him. We knew where he took the trail and where it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> ended. He killed +the big cat, skinned it, and carried the pelt back to the Canyon. You +won't find many white men with that much grit! A tourist from New York +saw the pelt and coveted it. He offered twenty-five dollars. Neewah +wanted fifty. The tourist tried to beat him down. There wasn't any +argument about it. The whole conversation was a monologue. The Indian +saw that the tourist wanted the skin badly, so he just sat and stared +into space while the tourist elaborated on how much twenty-five dollars +would buy and how little the pelt had cost the Indian! The buck simply +sat there until it was about time for the train to pull out, then he +picked up the hide and stalked away. Mr. Tourist hastened after him and +shelled out fifty pesos. I expect he told the home folks how he shot +that panther in self-defense.</p> + +<p>Ranger West did shoot a big cougar soon afterward. Not in self-defense +but in revenge.</p> + +<p>Not many deer lived on the South Rim then. That was before the fawns +were brought by airplane across the Canyon! The few that were there were +cherished and protected in every possible way. A salt pen was built so +high the cattle couldn't get in, and it was a wonderful sight to see the +graceful deer spring over that high fence with seemingly no effort at +all. Ranger West came in one morning with blood in his eye—one of his +pets had been dragged down under the Rim and half devoured by a giant +cougar. A hunt was staged at once. I was told to stay at home, but that +didn't stop me from going. Ranger Fisk always saddled Tar Baby for me +when everybody else thought it best to leave me behind. So I wasn't far<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +away when the big cat was treed by the dogs. He sat close to the trunk +of the dead tree, defying the dogs and spitting at them until they were +almost upon him. Then he sprang up the tree and lay stretched out on a +limb snarling until a rifle ball brought him down. He hit the ground +fighting, and ripped the nose of an impetuous puppy wide open. Another +shot stretched him out. He measured eight feet from tip to tip. His skin +was tanned by an Indian and adorns a bench in the Ranger Office.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img087.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter VIII: THE DAY'S WORK</i></h3> + + +<p>The snow had been tumbling down every day for weeks, until several feet +lay on the ground. After each storm the rangers took snow plows and +cleared the roads along the Rim, but the rest of our little world lay +among big snow drifts. As we walked around among the houses, only our +heads and shoulders showed above the snow. It was like living in Alaska. +The gloomy days were getting monotonous, and when the Chief announced he +was going to make an inspection trip over Tonto Trail, I elected myself, +unanimously, to go along.</p> + +<p>"But it's cold riding down there, even if there is no snow," protested +White Mountain. "And, besides, your horse is lame."</p> + +<p>"Well, it isn't exactly hot up here, and I'll borrow Dixie. I'm going!"</p> + +<p>Ranger West obligingly lent Dixie to me and I went. The thermometer +registered well below zero when we started down Bright Angel Trail. On +account of the icy trail my descent threatened to be a sudden one. Dixie +slid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> along stiff-legged, and I was half paralyzed with fright and cold. +But every time the Chief looked back, I pulled my frozen features into +what I considered a cheerful smile. I got more and more scared as we +went farther down, and finally had a brilliant idea. "My feet are +awfully cold, and couldn't I walk a while?" The Chief had probably heard +that same excuse from a thousand others, but he gravely assented and +helped me dismount. I started down the trail leading Dixie. My feet +really were so cold they were numb. This was probably a mercy, since +Dixie kept stepping on them! I began to run to "keep out from in under," +and she kept pace until we were almost galloping down the trail. When we +got below the snow line, my excuse wouldn't work, and I had to ride +again.</p> + +<p>There was sagebrush and sand and cactus. Then sand and cactus and +sagebrush. Here and there we saw a lop-eared burro, and far away I saw +an eagle sailing around. Having nothing else to do I counted the burros +we passed—seventy. A bunch grazing near the trail looked interesting, +so I made a careful approach and took their picture. Of course I forgot +to roll the film, and a little later Friend Husband decided to +photograph the enormous pillar that gives the name to Monument Creek. +The result was rather amazing when we developed the film a week later. +The wild burros were grazing placidly on the summit of a barren rock, a +couple of hundred feet in the air, without visible means of ascent or +descent. The Chief made a few sarcastic remarks about this picture, but +I firmly reminded him my burros were there first! He didn't say anything +else—aloud.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p>It took a long day's riding to reach Hermit's Camp just at dusk. We were +warmly welcomed by a roaring fire and hot supper. After I ate and then +sat a while I was too stiff to move. I knew I would stay awake all night +and nurse my aches. That, added to my fear of "phoby cats," made me +reluctant to retire. What's a hydrophobia cat? I don't know for sure +that it's anything, but the camp man told me to keep my door locked or +one would sneak in and bite me. He also said that I would go crazy if +one chewed on me. I intended to keep at least one ear cocked for +suspicious noises; but when I hit the cot everything was a blank until I +heard the Chief making a fire in the little tin stove.</p> + +<p>"Wake up and get dressed. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, and +I want you to walk down to the creek and see the trout."</p> + +<p>"Walk?" I never expected even to crawl again. Sore! Stiff!! I labored +all of ten minutes trying to get my boots on. And I had to ride up +Hermit Trail that day. I was glad to ride. I never mentioned walking to +warm my feet. The trail wound up and up. Today I slid down on Dixie's +tail, whereas yesterday I had braced my heels against her ears. A young +snowslide came down the mountainside, and we almost went on with it. It +missed us by such a very slight margin that fugitive snowballs rolled +around Dixie's feet and left her trembling and cringing with fright.</p> + +<p>Dixie and I had been loitering quite a distance behind, because White +Mountain had made us a little mad about something; but we decided we +really had no right to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> killed without letting him know about it, and +we kept close to his heels the rest of the way.</p> + +<p>All too soon we reached near-zero weather again. It got zero, then +zero-er, and quickly zero-est. I thought of all the hot things I could +remember, endeavoring to raise the temperature.</p> + +<p>Real chili con carne.</p> + +<p>Pennsylvania Avenue in August.</p> + +<p>Hornet stings.</p> + +<p>Spankings sustained in my youth!</p> + +<p>It was useless. I couldn't qualify as a Scientist. Maybe I lacked +concentration, for between looking out for another avalanche and +wondering how soon I could decently ask for another cup of coffee from +the thermos bottle, my thoughts wandered.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the Chief was cold, too. Anyway, we stopped at Santa Maria +Spring and spread out our lunch. The quaint little shelter over the +spring was being rapidly covered with Boston ivy. White Mountain said +Earl Shirley used to ride down there twice a week after a hard day's +work to water the newly set plants so they would grow. One is always +learning new things about Western men!</p> + +<p>It was mighty good to find Ranger Fisk at the top of the trail. He said +he thought I would be cold and tired so he brought a flivver to take me +the remaining six miles in to Headquarters. He had the house warm and +had melted snow for drinking-water. All the water pipes had frozen while +we were gone, and I washed my face with cold cream for several days.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>I hadn't more than settled down comfortably when the Chief found it +necessary to make another trip down. When he mentioned going I played +the piano so loud I couldn't hear him. I had no desire to go. Not while +I could sit in my warm house and read and sew in my comfortable rocking +chair. It was without a single qualm that I waved him a floury adieu +from the midst of cookie-making. I closed the door and went back to my +baking, which was abruptly terminated by a blazing board falling into +the crock of dough. The house was burning over my luckless head. I +turned around and around a few times in the same spot, then tried to +throw a bucket of water up against the ceiling. Had I been the +conflagration it would have ended then and there, for I was thoroughly +drenched. Failing to be my own fire engine I ran out and happened to see +Ranger Winess crossing the road. He must have been startled at my war +whoop, for he came running. By that time the smoke was rolling out +through the roof. While he climbed into the loft and tore pieces of +blazing boards away, I gave the emergency call by telephone, and soon we +had plenty of help. After the fire was conquered, I went to the hotel +and stayed until the Chief got back.</p> + +<p>The months from Christmas to April are the dullest at Grand Canyon. Of +course tourists still come but not in the numbers milder weather brings. +There is little or no automobile travel coming in from the outside +world. Very few large groups or conventions come except in June, which +seems to be the month for brides and large parties. That left the ranger +family more time for play, especially<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> in the evenings, and we had jolly +parties in our big living-room. The piano was the drawing card, and +combined with Ranger Winess' large guitar manufactured strange music. +When the other rangers joined in and sang they managed to make quite a +racket. Perhaps the songs they sang would not have met with enthusiasm +in select drawing-rooms, but they had a charm for all that. Cowboy +songs, sea chanties, and ballads many years old were often on call. +Kipling's poems, especially "I Learned about Women from Her" were prime +favorites.</p> + +<p>I soon learned to take my sewing close to the fire and sit there quietly +a few minutes in order to be forgotten. There are realms of masculine +pleasure into which no mere woman should intrude. Besides that, I never +could negotiate the weird crooks and turns they gave to their tunes. +Every time an old favorite was sung, it developed new twists and curves. +Ranger Winess would discover a heretofore unknown chord on his guitar: +"Get that one, boys. That's a wicked minor!" Then for the ensuing five +minutes, agonizing wails shattered the smoke screen while they were on +the trail of that elusive minor. I had one set rule regarding their +concerts—positively no lighted cigarettes were to be parked on my +piano!</p> + +<p>One song Ranger Winess always rendered as a solo, because all the others +enjoyed hearing it too much to join in with him:</p> + +<h4>OLD ROANEY</h4> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I was hangin' 'round the town, and I didn't have a dime.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">I was out of work and loafin' all the time.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When up stepped a man, and he said, "I suppose</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You're a bronco-buster. I can tell by your clothes."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, I thought that I was, and I told him the same.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I asked him if he had any bad ones to tame?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I have an old pony what knows how to buck;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At stacking up cowboys he has all the luck."'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I asked him what'd he pay if I was to stay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ride his old pony around for a day.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I'll give you ten dollars;" I said, "That's my chance,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Throwed my saddle in the buckboard and headed for the ranch.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Got up next morning, and right after chuck</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went down to the corral to see that pony buck.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was standin' in the corner, standin' all alone——</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That pig-eyed pony, a strawberry roan!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little pin ears that were red at the tip;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The X-Y-Z was stamped on his hip.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Narrow in the chest, with a scar on his jaw,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What all goes with an old outlaw!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">First came the bridle, then there was a fight;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I throwed on my saddle and screwed it down tight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stepped to his middle, feelin' mighty fine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said: "Out of the way, boys, watch him unwind!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, I guess Old Roaney sure unwound;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Didn't spend much of his time on the ground!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went up in the East, come down in the West——</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stickin' to his middle, I was doin' my best!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He went in the air with his belly to the sun</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The old sun-fishin' son-of-a-gun!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lost both the stirrups and I lost my hat</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reached for the horn, blinder than a bat.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then Old Roaney gently slid into high,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Left me sittin' on nothin' but the sky.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There ain't no cowboy who is alive</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can ride Old Roaney when he makes his high dive!</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>When the piano player stopped and Frank struck a few soft chords on his +guitar I knew they were getting sentimental. Pretty soon someone would +begin to hum: "When the dew is on the rose, and the world is all +repose." ... Those rangers lived close to danger and hardships every +day, but they had more real sentiment in their makeup than any type of +men I know. Maybe it's because women are so scarce around them that they +hold all womanhood in high regard. Most of them dreamed of a home and +wife and children, but few of them felt they had a right to ask a woman +to share their primitive mode of living. They might not jump up to +retrieve a dropped handkerchief, or stand at attention when a woman +entered a room, but in their hearts they had a deep respect for every +woman that showed herself worthy.</p> + +<p>Now and then, a certain son of Scotland, Major Hunter Clarkson, dropped +in. He was a real musician, and while I sewed and the Chief smoked he +treated us to an hour of true melody. He used to play the bagpipes at +home with his four brothers, he said, and he admitted that at times the +racket they made jarred his mother's china from the shelves!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>He had served with the British forces in Egypt, and if he could have +known how interested we were in his experiences, he would have given us +more than a bare hint of the scenes that were enacted during the defense +of the Dardanelles and the entrance into Jerusalem.</p> + +<p>One night he was telling us something about the habits of the Turks they +fought, when the telephone rang and interrupted the narrative, which was +never finished. The Chief had to go and investigate an attempted +suicide.</p> + +<p>It seemed that a lad under twenty, in Cleveland, had seen on a movie +screen a picture of Grand Canyon. He tucked that vision away somewhere +in his distorted brain, and when he had his next quarrel with his mother +he gathered together all his worldly wealth and invested it in a ticket +to Grand Canyon. There he intended to end his troubles, and make his +mother sorry she hadn't sewed on a button the instant he had asked her +to! That was a touching scene he pictured to himself—his heart-broken +mother weeping with remorse because her son had jumped into the Canyon.</p> + +<p>But! When he reached the Rim and looked over, it was a long way to the +bottom, and there were sharp rocks there. Perhaps no one would ever find +him, and what's the use of killing one's self if nobody knows about it? +Something desperate had to be done, however, so he shot himself where he +fancied his heart was located (he hit his stomach, which was a pretty +close guess) with a cheap pistol he carried, hurled the gun into the +Canyon, and started walking back to Headquarters. He met Ranger Winess +making a patrol and reported to him that he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> committed suicide! +Rangers West and Winess took care of him through the night, with Nurse +Catti's supervision, and the next day the Chief took him to Flagstaff, +where the bullet was removed and he was returned to his mother a sadder +and a wiser boy.</p> + +<p>There is some mysterious power about the Canyon that seems to make it +impossible for a person to face the gorge and throw himself into it.</p> + +<p>A young man, immensely wealthy, brought his fiancée to the Canyon for a +day's outing. At Williams, where they had lunch, he proposed that she go +on to the Coast with him, but she refused, saying that she thought it +was not the thing to do, since her mother expected her back home that +night. He laughed and scribbled something on a paper which he tucked +carelessly into a pocket of his overcoat. They went on to the Canyon and +joined a party that walked out beyond Powell's Monument. He walked up to +the Rim and stared into the depths, then turned facing his sweetheart. +"Take my picture," he shouted; and while she bent over the kodak, he +uttered a prayer, threw his arms up, and leaped <i>backward</i> into the +Canyon. He had not been able to face it and destroy the life God had +given him. Hours later rangers recovered his body, and in his pocket +found the paper on which he had written: "You wouldn't go with me to Los +Angeles, so it's goodbye!"</p> + +<p>Ranger West came in one day and told me that there was a lot of sickness +among the children at an Indian encampment a few miles from +Headquarters. I rode out with him to see what was the matter and found +that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> whooping-cough was rampant. For some reason, even though it was a +very severe winter, the Supai Indians had come up from their home in +Havasu Canyon, "Land of the Sky-Blue Water," made famous by Cadman, and +were camped among the trees on a hillside. The barefoot women and dirty +children were quite friendly, but the lazy, filthy bucks would have been +insolent had I been alone. They lolled in the "hewas," brush huts daubed +with mud, while the women dragged in wood and the children filled sacks +with snow to melt for drinking purposes. To be sure they didn't waste +any of it in washing themselves.</p> + +<p>They would not let me doctor the children, and several of them died; but +we could never find where they were buried. It is a custom of that tribe +to bury its members with the right arm sticking up out of the ground. In +case it is a lordly man that has passed to the Happy Hunting Ground his +pony is shot and propped upright beside the grave with the reins +clutched in the dead master's hand.</p> + +<p>I thought I might be able to reach a better understanding with the women +if the men were not present, so I told them to bring all the baskets +they made to my house and I would look at them and buy some of them. +Beautiful baskets were brought by the older squaws, and botched-up +shabby ones by the younger generation. Sometimes a sick child would be +brought by the mother, but there was little I could do for it outside of +giving it nourishing food. An Indian's cure-all is castor oil. He will +drink quarts of that if he can obtain it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Supai women are without dignity or appeal, and I never formed the +warm friendships with them that I did with women of other tribes. They +begged for everything in sight. One fat old squaw coveted a yellow +evening gown she saw in my closet; I gave it to her, also a discarded +garden hat with big yellow roses on it. She draped the gown around her +bent shoulders and perched the hat on top of her gray tangled hair and +went away happier than Punch. In a few minutes a whole delegation of +squaws arrived to see what they could salvage.</p> + +<p>Wattahomigie, their chief, and Dot, his wife, are far superior to the +rest of the tribe, and when it was necessary to have any dealing with +their people the Chief acted through Wattahomigie. He had often begged +us to visit their Canyon home, and we promised to go when we could. He +came strutting into our house one summer day and invited us to accompany +him home, as the season of peaches and melons was at its height. He had +been so sure we would go that he left orders for members of the tribe to +meet us at Hilltop where the steep trail begins. We listened to him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img099.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter IX: THE DOOMED TRIBE</i><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h3> + + +<p>Wattahomigie reminded us the next morning that we had promised to go +with him, so we rushed around and in an hour were ready to follow his +lead.</p> + +<p>It's a long trail, winding through forest and desert, up hill and down, +skirting sheer precipices and creeping through tunnels. And at the end +of the trail one stumbles upon the tiny, hidden village where the last +handful of a once powerful nation has sought refuge. Half-clad, +half-fed, half-wild, one might say, they hide away there in their +poverty, ignorance, and superstition. But oh, the road one must travel +to reach them! I hadn't anticipated Arizona trails when I so blithely +announced to White Mountain, "Whither thou goest, I will go." Neither +had I slept in an Indian village when I added, "And where thou lodgest, +I will lodge."</p> + +<p>We loaded our camp equipment into the Ford, tied a canvas bag of water +where it would be air-cooled, strapped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> a road-building shovel on the +running-board, and were on our way.</p> + +<p>The first few miles led through forests of piñon and pine. Gradually +rising, we reached the desert, where only cactus, sagebrush, and yucca +grew. As far as we could see the still, gray desert lay brooding under +the sun's white glare. Surely no living thing could exist in that alkali +waste. But look! An ashen-colored lizard darts across the trail, a sage +rabbit darts behind a yucca bush, and far overhead a tireless buzzard +floats in circles. Is he keeping a death watch on the grizzled old +"Desert Rat" we pass a little later? His face burned and seamed with the +desert's heat and storms, the old prospector cheerfully waved at us, as +he shared his beans and sour dough with a diminutive burro, which bore +his master's pack during the long search through the trackless desert +for the elusive gold. For us it would be suicide to leave the blazed +trail. The chances are that the circling buzzard and hungry coyotes will +be the only mourners present at his funeral.</p> + +<p>Now and then we passed a twisted, warped old juniper that was doubtless +digging for a foothold while Christ walked on earth. The Chief said +these old junipers vie with the Sequoias in age. Nothing else broke the +monotony of the heat and sand, until we came to the first water hole.</p> + +<p>It was dry now, for the summer rains were long overdue, and bogged +firmly in the red adobe mud was a gaunt long-horned cow. The Chief was +too tender-hearted to shoot her and drive on, as he knew he should. +Instead he stopped the car and got out to see if he could possibly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +"extract" her. Failing to frighten her into pulling herself out, he +goaded her into a frenzy by throwing sharp stinging rocks at her. One +landed on her tender flank and she tossed her horns and struggled. The +Chief stooped, with his back to her, for another rock, just as she +pulled out.</p> + +<p>"Look out. She's coming for you!" I yelled.</p> + +<p>Straight at her rescuer she charged with an angry rumble. Round and +round a stunted piñon they raced, hot and angry. I was too helpless with +mirth to be of any aid, and the Chief's gun was in the car. Still, an +angry range cow on the prod is no joke, and it began to look serious. At +last the impromptu marathon ended by the Chief making an extra sprint +and rolling into the Ford just as her sharp horns raked him fore and +aft.</p> + +<p>"Well!" he exploded, and glared at me while I wiped the tears out of my +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Shall we drive on?" I inquired meekly. We drove on.</p> + +<p>A few miles along the way a piteous bawling reached us. Since even +Arizona cattle must drink sometimes, a cow had hidden her baby while she +went to a distant water hole. Three coyotes had nosed him out and were +preparing to fill up on unwilling veal. He bobbed about on his unsteady +little legs and protested earnestly. The sneaking beasts scattered at +our approach, and we drove on thinking the calf would be all right. +Looking back, however, we saw that the coyotes had returned and pulled +him down. This time the Chief's forty-five ended the career of one, and +the other two shifted into high, getting out of range without delay. The +trembling calf was loaded into the machine and we dropped him when the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +main herd was reached. Here he would be safe from attack, but I have +often wondered if the mother found her baby again. At the next water +hole a lean lynx circled warily around with his eye fixed hungrily on +some wild ducks swimming too far from shore for him to reach. It seemed +that the sinister desert mothered cruel breeds.</p> + +<p>We had reached the "Indian Pasture" now, where the Indians kept their +ponies. A score of Supai bucks were digging a shallow ditch. Upon being +questioned they said the ditch was a mile long and would carry water to +the big dam in their pasture when the rains fell. They were finishing +the ditch just in time, for the first of the season's storms was closing +down upon us. There was an ominous stillness, then the black cloud was +rent with tongues of flame. And the rains descended—more than +descended. They beat and dashed and poured until it seemed that the very +floodgates of heaven had opened over our unfortunate heads. It was +impossible to stay in the glue-and-gumbo road, so we took to the open +prairie. Since this part of the country is well ventilated with +prairie-dog holes, we had anything but smooth sailing.</p> + +<p>"Stop," I shouted, trying to make myself heard above the roar of the +storm.</p> + +<p>"No time to stop now," was the answer.</p> + +<p>We pulled under a sheltering juniper and slowed up.</p> + +<p>"What did you want to stop there for? Don't you know we have to keep on +moving if we reach a shelter tonight?" inquired the pilot of our ship. +He had evidently been brooding over my unseemly mirth at the mad cow +episode.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, all right," I agreed, "but the bedding-roll bounced out and I +thought you might want to pick it up." The fugitive bedding recovered, +we resumed our journey.</p> + +<p>The storm ended as suddenly as everything else happens in that +topsy-turvy land and in the eastern sky hung a double quivering rainbow. +I rubbed my eyes and looked again. It <i>was</i> double! The Chief explained +that this was due to a mirage, but I placed it to the credit of +altitude, like all other Arizona wonders.</p> + +<p>At Hilltop we found Indian guides with trail ponies to take us the rest +of the way. They had been waiting two days for us, they said. Strolling +to the Canyon's brink I encountered a fearful odor. "What in the world +is that?" I asked Wattahomigie (which by the way means "Good Watchful +Indian"). "Him pony," was the stolid reply. "But—?" "Buck and fall over +trail," explained my Indian brave. I fled to the Chief for comfort and +change of air. He investigated and found that when Wattahomigie had +brought the ponies up from the village one had become unruly and pitched +over the Rim, landing squarely across the trail a hundred feet below. It +was the only trail, but it never occurred to the Noble Red Man to remove +the dead horse. No indeed! If it proved impossible to get around the +obstacle, why, stay off the trail until Providence cleared the way. In +other words let Nature take its course. The Chief procured a few pounds +of TNT from the Government warehouse located there, and with the aid of +that soon cleared the trail.</p> + +<p>"That good way to clear trail," approved Wattahomigie. "No pull, no dig, +no nothin'." I hoped no TNT<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> would be left roaming at large for +promiscuous experiments by Wattahomigie while we were natives of his +village.</p> + +<p>We camped there at Hilltop that night, and after a supper of fried +sage-rabbit, corn cakes, and coffee, I rolled into the blankets and fell +asleep without worrying about the morrow. Something awakened me. I +certainly <i>had</i> heard something. Inch by inch I silently lifted myself +from the blankets and peered into the shadows. Standing there like a +graven image was a beautiful doe with twin fawns playing around her. +Curiosity had conquered caution and she was investigating our camp. Just +then a coyote's wild cry sounded from the distance. She lifted her +sensitive nose and sniffed the air, then wheeled and glided into the +deep shadows. Other coyote voices swelled the chorus. Hundreds it seemed +were howling and shrieking like mad, when I dropped to sleep to dream I +was listening to grand opera at the Metropolitan.</p> + +<p>Morning dawned clear and crisp. "Will it rain today?" I asked an Indian. +"No rain; three sleeps, then rain," he told me; and this proved correct.</p> + +<p>Wattahomigie had provided a long-legged race horse for me to ride. "Will +he carry her all right?" the Chief asked him. Wattahomigie looked me +over carefully and one could almost see him comparing me mentally with a +vision of his fat squaw, Dottie. His white teeth flashed a smile: "Sure, +my squaw him all time ride that pony." That settled the matter. "Him +squaw" weighs a good two hundred pounds and is so enveloped in +voluminous skirts that the poor horse must feel completely submerged.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>This trail does not gradually grow steeper—it starts that way. I had +been told that all other trails we had traveled were boulevards compared +to this one, and it was well that I had been warned beforehand. My place +was near the center of the caravan, and I was divided between the fear +that I should slide down on top of the unwary Indian riding ahead and +the one that the Chief's horse directly behind would bump me off the +trail. It was a cheerful situation. The Canyon walls closed in upon us, +and the trail grew worse, if that could be possible. The firm rock gave +way to shale that slipped and slid under the feet of the horses. It was +so narrow that one slip of a hoof would send the horse crashing on the +rocks hundreds of feet beneath. Still this is the only path it has been +possible to make down to the Indian retreat. It was carved out by a past +generation when they crept down into the valley far below to make their +last futile stand.</p> + +<p>We rounded a point and came out near a sparkling pool of clear, inviting +water fed by a stream bursting out of what appeared to be solid rock. I +knelt to drink, but was jerked to my feet sharply by a watchful Indian. +The water is unfit to drink on account of the arsenic it contains. I +noticed that none of the hot, tired horses even dipped their dusty noses +into the pool. Safely away from this unhealthy spot we came into +Rattlesnake Canyon, so named for obvious reasons, where the riding was +much easier. Twelve miles onward and two thousand feet farther down +found us among bubbling springs and magnificent cotton woods. This is +where the Thousand Springs come into the sunlight after their rushing +journey through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> many miles of underground caverns. New springs broke +out from the roots of the trees and along the banks of the stream until +it was a rushing little river.</p> + +<p>We were evidently expected, for when we reached the village the natives +all turned out to see and be seen: brown children as innocent of +clothing as when they first saw the light; fat, greasy squaws with +babies on their backs; old men and women—all stared and gibbered at us.</p> + +<p>"Big Jim" and "Captain Burros" headed what seemed to be the committee of +welcome. Big Jim was clad in a full-dress suit and silk hat donated to +him by Albert, King of the Belgians, and with that monarch's medal of +honor pinned to his front, Jim was, speaking conservatively, a startling +vision. Captain Burros wore the white shirt of ceremony which he dons +only for special occasions, with none of the whiteness dimmed by being +tucked into his trousers.</p> + +<p>Big Jim welcomed us gravely, asking the Chief: "Did you bring my +<i>fermit</i>?" This permit, a paper granting Big Jim a camping location on +Park grounds, having been duly delivered, Jim invited us to share his +hewa, but after one look at the surroundings we voted unanimously to +camp farther up the stream among the cottonwoods. We chose a level spot +near the ruins of an old hewa.</p> + +<p>While supper was being prepared an aged squaw tottered into camp and sat +down. She wailed and beat her breast and finally was persuaded to tell +her troubles. It seemed that she and her husband had lived in this hewa +until his death a year or two before. Then the hewa was thrown open to +the sky and abandoned, as is their custom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> She disliked to mention his +name because he might hear it in the spirit world and come back to see +what was being said about him.</p> + +<p>"Don't you want him to come back?" I asked idly, thinking to tease her. +Her look of utter terror was answer enough and shamed me for my +thoughtlessness. These Indians have a most exaggerated fear of death. +When one dies he and his personal belongings are taken to a wild spot +and there either cremated or covered with stones. No white man has ever +been permitted to enter this place of the dead. Any hour of the day or +night that a white man approaches, an Indian rises apparently from out +of the earth and silently waves him away. Until a few years ago the best +horse of the dead Indian was strangled and sent into the Happy Hunting +Ground with its owner, but with the passing of the older generation this +custom has been abandoned.</p> + +<p>From a powerful and prosperous tribe of thousands this nation has +dwindled down to less than two hundred wretched weaklings. Driven to +this canyon fastness from their former dwelling-place by more warlike +tribes, they have no coherent account of their wanderings or their +ancestors. About all they can tell is that they once lived in cliff +dwellings; that other Indians drove them away; and that then Spaniards +and grasping whites pushed them nearer and nearer the Canyon until they +descended into it, seeking refuge. They are held in low esteem by all +other Indian tribes and never marry outside of their own people. +Ridiculous and unreasonable tales about their savage customs have kept +timid explorers at a safe distance,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> and thus little has been learned +about them. This last fragment will pass away within a few years and all +trace will be lost. Tuberculosis claims a dozen yearly; the children are +weaklings from diseased parents and the result of intermarriage, so they +fall victims of comparatively harmless ailments. A few years ago an +epidemic of measles swept through the tribe. Poor ignorant creatures, +trying to cool the burning fever they spent hours bathing in the cold +waters of the stream flowing through the village. More than eighty died +in one week from the effects, and others that lived through it are +invalids. This was almost too much for their superstitious minds. They +were for fleeing from that accursed place, but the old men said: "Where +can we go? We have no other place but this. Let us wait here for death." +So they spent hours in dancing and ceremonies to appease the angry gods. +They have no favoring gods, only evil spirits which they must outwit or +bribe with dances. The Peach Dance which we had gone to see was for the +purpose of celebrating good crops of melons, corn, and other products +and to implore the mercy of harmful powers during the winter months.</p> + +<p>After the sun was out of sight we followed Wattahomigie to the scene of +the dance. There was no other light than that of the brush fires. A huge +circle of howling, chanting Indians had formed a wide ring in which a +dozen or more bucks and as many squaws were gathered. There seemed to be +no prearranged procedure. When one of the dancers would feel so +inclined, he, or she, would start a wild screeching and leaping about. +This would continue until the singer ran out of breath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> Occasionally a +squaw would grow so enthused she would be quite overcome with emotion +and fall to the ground, foaming at the mouth. No notice would be taken +except to grab her by the hair and drag her to the edge of the circle. +The dance lasted until the gray dawn and was the most ghastly and weird +experience I ever went through. All I can compare it to is the nightmare +I used to have after too much mince pie.</p> + +<p>Safely back at our camp with a brisk fire crackling under a pot of +coffee, I began to throw off the shivering sensation, and by the time +the coffee pot was empty I was ready for new adventures. Word had gone +forth that I would buy all the baskets the squaws brought to me. I hoped +in this way to get some first-hand information about the feminine side +of affairs. Squaws and baskets and information poured in. Baskets of all +sizes and shapes were brought, some good, some bad, but I bought them +all. If I hesitated a moment over one the owner put the price down to a +few cents. Just a dime or two for a whole week's work. Time has no value +to them, and the creek banks are covered with the best willows in the +world for basket-making. The basket-making art is the only talent these +squaws have, while the bucks excel in tanning buckskin and other skins. +These they trade to the Navajo Indians for silver and blankets. Then +they race their ponies or gamble for the ownership of the coveted +blankets. How they do love to gamble! Horses, blankets, squaws—anything +and everything changes hands under the spell of the magic cards. Even +the squaws and children gamble for beads and bright-colored calico. When +a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> few pieces of real money are at stake, all is wild excitement. How +the black eyes snap, and how taut is every nerve!</p> + +<p>Their hewas are merely shelters of willow, and there is absolutely no +privacy about anything. Yet they are neither immoral nor unmoral. The +girls all marry very young. At the age of twelve or thirteen the girl is +chosen by some brave, who bargains with the father for her. A pony or +its value in buckskin will buy almost any father's favorite daughter. +But the girl is not forced to go with a lover whom she does not approve. +The marriage ceremony is not elaborate; after all preliminaries are +disposed of, the would-be bridegroom takes his blanket and moves into +the hewa of the girl's people. If two or three moons pass without any +quarrels between the young people, they move into a hewa of their own, +and thus it is known that they are married. Divorce is just as simple; +he merely sends her back to her father. An Indian brave of the Supai +tribe can have as many wives as he can buy according to the tribal law. +But since there is only about one squaw to every three braves, a man is +lucky to have any wife, and divorce is rare. When two or more braves +center their affections on one fair damsel, things are likely to happen. +But three Indian judges solemnly sit in council and settle the question. +Their solution is usually final, although two or three disgruntled +braves have journeyed to our home at El Tovar sixty miles away to appeal +to White Mountain for aid.</p> + +<p>The valley is fertile, and all sorts of fruits and vegetables thrive. In +fact the natives live on what they raise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> in their haphazard way. They +have a rude system of irrigation which carries water to every little +garden. One other thing grows in abundance there—dogs! Such a flock of +surly, mangy mongrels one would have to travel far to find. I don't know +what they live on, for I never saw one of them being fed.</p> + +<p>"Big sing tonight," said one of the squaws squatting by our campfire.</p> + +<p>"What is a sing, Dottie?"</p> + +<p>"Much sing and dance. Medicine man drive away bad spirit from blind +man."</p> + +<p>Of course we were present at the "sing," although I would never have +called it that. An old half-blind Indian afflicted with granulated +eyelids was the victim. The night was chilly, but he was clothed only in +a look of resignation. The medicine man had a shot-filled gourd, a bunch +of dried herbs, and an unlimited capacity for howling. First of all the +patient was given a "sweat bath." He was put into a little teepee made +of willows closely covered with burlap. Hot rocks were introduced and a +pan of water thrown on them. More rocks and more water went inside until +the poor Indian could stand it no longer. He came forth choking and +gasping with the perspiration running from him. Buckets of cold water +were then dashed over him and the medicine man got busy beating him over +the head with the bunch of herbs, keeping up an unearthly screeching. +This would last until morning, they said, but my interest flagged just +about the time the priest found his second wind, and I retired.</p> + +<p>Five beautiful waterfalls are scattered down the valley,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> and I was most +anxious to visit these. For some reason Wattahomigie hung back and we +had trouble in persuading him to take us there. He reluctantly +accompanied us when he saw we intended to go either with him or without. +His attitude was explained when we were well along the trail; some freak +of formation has made great sounding boxes of the Canyon, and these +gather the noises of the water and the wind and return them again in +shrieks of demoniacal laughter, barking of dogs, and sounds of talking +and singing. It is startling to say the least, and no amount of +explaining would convince Wattahomigie that it is not the revel hall of +departed Indian spirits. The sun is lost there at midday, and darkness +settles down soon after.</p> + +<p>We camped at Mooney Falls that night, so called on account of an +adventurous prospector of that name losing his life by falling over the +ledge there. It took ten months for his comrades to get equipment +together and recover his body, which they buried at the foot of the +falls. This place naturally holds no attraction for our Indian friends, +and we had literally to push them from under our feet. They almost sat +in the campfire, so determined were they to stay near us.</p> + +<p>The next day we started to Hilltop, with Big Jim and his squaw with us +as an escort of honor. Jim rode serenely along, while Mary trudged after +on foot.</p> + +<p>"Jim," said the Chief, "how is it that you ride and Mary walks?"</p> + +<p>Jim's voice was reproachfully astonished that anyone could be so dense: +"Mary, she no got um horse!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Indians gathered to see us off. I looked at the faces before me. +Even the babies seemed hopeless and helpless. It is a people looking +backward down the years with no thought of the morrow.</p> + +<p>"Can't you get them to be more hopeful or cheerful? Won't they even try +to help themselves?" I asked Wattahomigie in desperation. He sadly shook +his head.</p> + +<p>"No help," he said; "plenty for today, maybe no tomorrow."</p> + +<p>And maybe he's right. Not many more morrows for that doomed tribe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img114.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter X: WHERE THEY DANCE WITH SNAKES</i><a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h3> + + +<p>A few days after our visit to Supai, Ranger Fisk dropped in.</p> + +<p>"Going to the Snake Dance?" he asked me.</p> + +<p>"What's a Snake Dance, and where is it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's over in the Hopi Reservation, and the crazy redskins hop +around with rattlesnakes in their mouths so it'll rain."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe <i>that</i>. I'm going over and ask Joe about it," I +replied, indignant that Charlie would try to tell me anything so +improbable.</p> + +<p>I returned pretty soon from my visit to Joe, who is Chief of the Hopi +Indians. He made his home with the Spencers at the Hopi House, and we +were tried and true friends.</p> + +<p>"What did he say?" Both the Chief and Ranger Fisk hurled the question at +me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He said rattlesnakes are their brothers and they carry messages to the +rain gods telling them of the need for rain in Hopi land. He didn't want +to tell me much about it. White Mountain, let's go. <i>Please!</i>"</p> + +<p>So we went. But before we started I managed to gather a little more +information about the yearly ceremony that is held in the Painted Desert +country. Joe told me that the Government at Washington was opposed to +their Snake Dance. He told me to bear in mind that water is the very +breath of life to the desert dwellers, and that while his people did not +like to oppose the agents placed there by the Government they certainly +intended to continue their dance.</p> + +<p>We loaded the flivver with food and water, since we knew our welcome +would be a shade warmer if we did not draw on the meager water supply in +the Reservation. We dropped down to Flagstaff, and there on every street +corner and in every store and hotel the Hopi Snake Dance was the main +subject of conversation. It seemed that everybody was going!</p> + +<p>We left the main road there and swung off across the desert for the Hopi +villages, built high on rocky mesas overlooking the surrounding country. +It was delightful during the morning coolness, but all too soon the sun +enveloped us. We met two or three Navajo men on their tough little +ponies, but they were sullen and refused to answer my waves to them. +While we repaired a puncture, a tiny Navajo girl in her full calico +skirt and small velvet basque drove her flock of sheep near and shyly +watched us. I offered her an apple and she shied away like a timid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +deer. But candy was too alluring. She crept closer and closer, and then +I got sorry for her and placed it on a rock and turned my back. She lost +no time in grabbing the sweet and darting back to her flock.</p> + +<p>The road was badly broken up with coulees and dry washes that a heavy +rain would turn into embryo Colorados. I found myself hoping that the +Snake Dance prayer for rain would not "take" until we were safely back +over this road.</p> + +<p>Evening found us encamped at the foot of the high mesa upon which was +built the Hopi village where the dance would be held this year. Close +beside was the water hole that furnished the population with a scant +supply. It was a sullen, dripping, seeping spring that had nothing in +common with our gushing, singing springs of the Southern mountains. The +water was caught in a scooped-out place under the cliff, crudely walled +in with stones to keep animals away. Some stray cattle, however, had +passed the barrier and perished there, for their bones protruded from +the soft earth surrounding the pool. It was not an appetizing sight. +Rude steps were cut in the rocky trail leading to the pueblo dwellings +above two miles away, from whence came the squaws with big ollas to +carry the water. This spring was the gossiping ground for all the female +members of the mesa. They met there and laughed and quarreled and +slandered others just as we white women do over a bridge table.</p> + +<p>I found myself going to sleep with my supper untasted, and leaving White +Mountain to tidy up I went to bed with the sand for a mattress and the +stars for a roof.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> Some time in the night I roused sufficiently to be +glad that all stray rattlers, bull snakes, and their ilk were securely +housed in the kivas being prayed over by the priests. At dawn we +awakened to see half a score of naked braves dash by and lose themselves +in the blue-shadowed distance. While we had breakfast I spoke of the +runners.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Chief, "they are going out to collect the rattlesnakes."</p> + +<p>"Collect the rattlesnakes! Haven't they been garnered into the fold +yet?"</p> + +<p>"No, today they will be brought from the north, tomorrow from the west, +next day from the south, and last from the east." He glanced at me. +"Provided, of course, that they don't show up here of their own accord. +I <i>have</i> heard that about this time of year every snake within a radius +of fifty miles starts automatically for the Snake Dance village."</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>I</i> shall sleep in the car tomorrow night and the next night and +the next one, too."</p> + +<p>"Where will you sleep tonight?"</p> + +<p>"I'll not sleep. I intend to sit on top of the machine and see if any +snakes do come in by themselves. Not that I'm afraid of snakes," I +hastened to add; "but I'd hate to delay any pious-minded reptile +conscientiously bent on reaching the scene of his religious duties."</p> + +<p>We solved the difficulty by renting a room in one of the pueblo houses.</p> + +<p>We followed the two-mile trail up the steep cliff to Walpi and found +ourselves in a human aerie. Nobody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> knows how many centuries have passed +since this tribe first made their home where we found them now. Living +as they do in the very heart of a barren, arid waste, they control very +little land worth taking from them and have therefore been unmolested +longer than they otherwise would have been. They invite little attention +from tourists except during the yearly ceremonial that we had come to +witness. What <i>is</i> this Snake Dance? The most spectacular and weird +appeal to the gods of Nature that has ever been heard of!</p> + +<p>To gain an understanding of what rain means to these Indians we had only +to live in their village the few days preceding the dance. They are +compelled to exist on the water from winter's melting snow and the +annual summer showers, which they catch in their rude cisterns and water +holes. One's admiration for this unconquerable tribe is boundless, as +the magnitude of their struggle for existence is comprehended. Choosing +the most inaccessible and undesirable region they could find in which to +make a determined and successful stand against the Spanish and the hated +friars, they have positively subjugated the desert. Its every resource +is known and utilized for their benefit. Is there an underground +irrigation that moistens the soil, they have searched it out and thrust +their seed corn into its fertile depths. The rocks are used to build +their houses; the cottonwood branches make ladders and supports for the +ceilings; the clay is fashioned into priceless pottery; grasses and +fiber from the yucca turn into artistic baskets under their skillful +fingers. Every drop of water that escapes from the springs nourishes +beans and pumpkins<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> to be stored away for winter use. Practically every +plant on the desert is useful to them, either for their own needs or as +food for their goats and burros.</p> + +<p>We knew and were known by many of the younger members of the tribe who +had visited at the Grand Canyon, so we found a warm welcome and ready +guides in our stroll around the village.</p> + +<p>The Hopi Indians are friendly and pleasant. They always respond to a +greeting with a flashing smile and a cheery wave of the hand. This is +not the way the sullen Navajos greet strangers. We saw many of that +nomad tribe walking around the Hopi village. They were just as curious +as we were about this snake dance.</p> + +<p>"Do the Navajos believe your dance will make the rain come?" I asked a +young Hopi man who was chatting with the Chief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. They believe."</p> + +<p>"Well, why don't you Hopis make them pay for their share of the rain you +bring. It falls on their Reservation." That was a new thought to the +Hopi and we left him staring over the desert, evidently pondering. I +hope I didn't plant the seed that will lead to a desert warfare!</p> + +<p>I watched with fascinated eyes the antics of round, brown babies playing +on the three-story housetops. I expected every instant that one would +come tumbling off, but nobody else seemed to worry about them. On one +housetop an aged Hopi was weaving a woolen dress for his wife. What a +strange topsy-turvy land this was—where the men do the weaving and the +wives build the houses. For the women do build those houses. They are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +made from stone brought up from the desert far below, and then they are +thickly plastered with a mixture of adobe and water. Many families live +in the same pueblo, but there are no openings from one room to another. +Each house has its own entrance. There are generally three stories to +each pueblo, the second one set back eight or ten feet on the roof of +the first, and the third a like distance on the top of the second. This +forms a terrace or balcony where many household duties are performed.</p> + +<p>I noticed that one pueblo was completely fenced in with head and foot +pieces of ornate iron beds! Evidently the Government had at some time +supplied each family with a bed and they had all passed into the hands +of this enterprising landscape engineer. The houses we peeped into were +bare of furniture with the exception of a Singer sewing machine. I +venture to say there was one in every home up there. Many family groups +were eating meals, all sitting in a circle around the food placed in +dishes on the floor. It was difficult to see what they were serving, on +account of the swarms of flies that settled on everything around. I saw +corn on the ear, and in many places a sort of bean stew. Where there was +a baby to be cared for, the oldest woman in the family sat apart and +held it while the others ate. One old grandmother called my attention to +the child she had on her lap. He was a big-eyed, shrunken mite, strapped +flat to his board carrier. The day was broiling hot, but she motioned me +to touch his feet. "Sick," she said. His tiny feet were like chunks of +ice. It was a plain case of malnutrition, and what could I do to help, +in the few days I was to be there?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>Many of the school boys and girls from boarding-schools were home for +vacation, but they knew little or nothing about the meaning of the +different dances and ceremonies that were going on in a dozen +underground kivas in the village. One pretty maiden with marvelous +masses of gleaming black hair volunteered to help us interview her +uncle, an old Snake Priest, about his religion. We found "Uncle" +lounging in the sunshine, mending his disreputable moccasins. He was not +an encouraging subject as he sat there with only a loin cloth by way of +haberdashery. He welcomed us as royally, however, as if he wore a king's +robes, and listened courteously while the girl explained our errand.</p> + +<p>If there is a more difficult feat in the world than extracting +information from a reluctant Indian I have never come across it. We gave +up at last, and waited to see what was going to happen.</p> + +<p>The exact date of the dance is determined by the Snake Priest, and +announced from the housetops nine days before it takes place. The +underground "kivas" are filled with the various secret orders, +corresponding to our lodges, going through their mystic ceremonies. From +the top of the ladder that extends above the kiva opening, a bunch of +turkey feathers hung, notifying outsiders that lodge was in session and +that no visitors would be welcome.</p> + +<p>What candles and a cross mean to good Catholics, feathers mean to a +Hopi. Flocks of turkeys are kept in the village for the purpose of +making "bahos," or prayer sticks. These little pleas to spirits are +found stuck all over the place. If a village is particularly blessed, +they have a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> captive eagle anchored to a roof. And this bird is +carefully fed and watered in order that its supply of feathers may not +fail.</p> + +<p>Days before the dance, the young men are sent out to bring in the +snakes. Armed with a little sacred meal, feathers, a long forked stick, +and a stout sack, they go perhaps twenty miles from the village. When a +snake is located dozing in the sun, he is first sprinkled with the +sacred meal. If he coils and shows fight the ever trusty feather is +brought into play. He is stroked and soothed with it, and pretty soon he +relaxes and starts to crawl away. Quick as a flash he is caught directly +behind the head and tucked away in the sack with his other objecting +brethren. Every variety of snake encountered is brought in and placed in +the sacred kiva.</p> + +<p>The legend on which they so firmly base their belief in snake magic is +this:</p> + +<p>An adventurous Hopi went on a journey to find the dwelling-place of the +Rain God, so that he might personally present their plea for plenty of +showers. He floated down the Colorado until he was carried into the +Underworld. There he met with many powerful gods, and finally the Snake +God taught him the magic of making the rain fall on Hopi fields. They +became fast friends, and when the Hopi returned to his home the Snake +God presented him with his two daughters, one for a wife to the Hopi's +brother, who belonged to the Antelope Clan, and the other to become his +own bride. When the weddings took place all the snake brothers of the +brides attended, and a great dance was made in their honor. Since that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +time a yearly dance and feast is held for the snakes, and they then +descend to their Snake God father and tell him the Hopis still need +rain.</p> + +<p>While the men garner snakes and perform in the kivas, the women are not +idle. Far from it! Pottery-makers are busy putting the last touches of +paint on their pottery, and basket makers add the last row of weaving to +the baskets. These wares are displayed in every doorway and window, +where they are most likely to catch the tourist eye. The best specimens +are not put out for sale. I believe the attitude is, "Why place pearls +before swine?"</p> + +<p>Houses are swept, and new plaster is applied inside and out. The girls +chatter over their grinding stones, where they crush the meal for making +"piki." Others mix and bake this piki, and it is piled high on flat +baskets. It is made of cornmeal and water, and is baked on hot flat +stones. The stone is first greased with hot mutton tallow, then the cook +dips her fingers into the mixture and with one swift swipe spreads it +evenly over the scorching surface. How they escape blistered fingers is +always a marvel to me.</p> + +<p>Squaws are wearily climbing the steep trail with heavy ollas of water on +their backs, held there by a shawl knotted around their foreheads. +Others pass them going to the spring, where they sit and gossip a while +before starting back with their burdens. It takes about the last of the +hoarded water to prepare for the dance, since religion demands that +every house and street be sprinkled and each and every Hopi must have +his yearly bath and shampoo.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<p>I found a pretty girl having her hair put up in squash blossoms for the +first time. Her mother told me she was ready to choose her husband now, +and that the hairdress would notify the young braves to that effect. In +Hopi land the girl chooses her own husband, proposes, and then takes him +to live in her house. If she tires of him she throws his belongings out, +and <i>he</i> "goes back to mother!" After the Snake Dance my little girl +would make her choice. I tried to get advance information, but she +blushed and giggled like any other flapper.</p> + +<p>The old men were going to and from the planting grounds, many miles away +in the valley. They went at a sort of dog trot, unless one was rich +enough to own a burro; in that case it did the dog trotting. After the +fields are planted, brush shelters are built and the infirm members of +the tribe stay there to protect the fields from rabbits and burros. Who +could blame a hungry little burro for making away with a luscious hill +of green corn in the midst of a barren desert? And yet if he is caught +he has to pay, literally—one of his ears for the ear of corn he has +eaten. Very few Hopi burros retain their original couple of ears.</p> + +<p>The agents say that the time and strength consumed by the Indians in +going to and from their fields, and in carrying water up to the village, +could better be spent cultivating the crops. Therefore, many attempts +have been made to move the Hopis from their lofty homes on the crags to +Government houses on the level below. But they steadfastly refuse to be +moved.</p> + +<p>Stand at the mesa edge and look out across the en<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>chanting scene. To the +far south the snow-crowned San Francisco peaks rear their lofty heights. +To the north and east the sandy desert stretches away in heart-breaking +desolation, relieved only by the tiny green patches of peach trees and +corn fields. The blazing sun beats down appallingly. A purple haze +quivers over the world. But evening comes, and as the sun drops out of +sight a pink glow spreads over the eastern sky, giving a soft radiance +to the landscape below. Soon this desert glow fades, and shadows creep +nearer and nearer, until one seems to be gazing into the sooty depths of +a midnight sea. Turn again toward the village. Firelight darts upward +and dies to a glow; soft voices murmur through the twilight; a carefree +burst of laughter comes from a group of returned school children.</p> + +<p>It suddenly dawns on one that this is the home of these people, their +home as it was their fathers' and their fathers' home before them. They +are contented and happy. Why leave their sun-kissed, wind-swept heights, +seven thousand feet high, for the scorching desert below?</p> + +<p>The village was seething at the first hint of dawn on the day of the +actual snake dance. Crowding the dizzy mesa edges were masses of Indians +and whites drawn there for the ceremony. Somewhere, far below, through +the desert dawn, a score of young men were running the grilling race to +reach the village. The first to arrive would secure the sacred token +bestowed by the Head Priest. This would insure fruitful crops from his +planting next year and, perhaps more important, the most popular girl in +the village would probably choose him for a husband. We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> stood near our +squash-blossom girl, and the progress of the race was written on her +face. I knew her choice was among the runners, and when the first one to +arrive darted, panting, up to the priest and grasped the token, I knew +who was her choice!</p> + +<p>The white visitors spent the forenoon strolling around the mesa, tasting +Hopi food, feeding candy to the naked, roly-poly babies, or bargaining +with visiting Navajos for rugs and silver jewelry. French, Spaniards, +Mexicans, Germans, Americans, and Indians jostled each other +good-naturedly. Cowboys, school teachers, moving-picture men, reporters, +missionaries, and learned doctors were all there. One eminent doctor +nudged the Chief gleefully and displayed a small flask he had hidden +under his coat. I wondered if he had fortified himself with liquor in +case of snakebite. He surely had! And how? He had heard for years of the +secret antidote that is prepared by the Snake Priest and his wife, to be +used all during the nine days the snakes are being handled. He traveled +there from Chicago to secure a sample of that mixture. He found the +ready ear of a Hopi youth, who supplied him with a generous sample in +return for five dollars. The doctor was satisfied, for the time being, +and so was the mischief-loving kid. He told us a few minutes later that +he had sold seven such samples on the Q.T. and that he was going to have +to mix up another brew! "What are you selling them?" I asked, trying to +be as stern as possible. "Water we all washed in," he said, and we both +had a good laugh.</p> + +<p>At noon the snakes were taken from the big jars and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> washed in other +ollas of water. This is a matter of politeness. Since the snake brothers +cannot wash themselves, it must be done for them.</p> + +<p>The middle of the afternoon found the crowd choosing places of vantage +for the Snake Dance, which would begin just before sundown and last +perhaps half an hour. Owners of houses were charging a dollar a seat on +their roofs, and they could have sold many more seats had there been +room for them.</p> + +<p>Scarcely a person seemed to realize that they were there to witness a +religious ceremony and that to the Indians it was as sacred as could be +any High Church service. Shouting and cheering, they waited for the +dancers to appear.</p> + +<p>Finally a naked Indian, painted white and black and red, with a lot of +strung shells draped over his chest, appeared, carrying the olla of +snakes. These he deposited in a hut built of willow boughs with a +bearskin for a door.</p> + +<p>Following him came twenty priests painted as he was, each with a loin +cloth and a coyote skin hanging from the cloth behind. These went around +the circle seven times, which seems to be the mystic number used in all +these ceremonies. They chanted a weird, wordless tune all the time. Then +they gathered in front of the kiva, where the snakes could be heard +keeping up a constant dull rattling, and chanted this same tune seven +times, stamping on the boards that covered the opening to the +Underworld, in order that the gods down there might know they were on +the job. One priest had a piece of board on the end of a strong string +and every so often he would step out in front<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> of the others and whirl +and whiz that board around until it wailed like a lost soul. <i>That</i> was +the wind before the rain!</p> + +<p>A priest entered the snake kiva and passed a snake out to a priest +dancer. The dancer placed this big rattler in his mouth and began the +circle. Close beside him danced a companion called the "hugger." This +protecting Indian kept one arm around the dancer's shoulders and his +other hand occupied with a bunch of feathers with which he kept the +snake's head from coming too close to the dancer's face. Entirely around +the ring they went until the starting-place had been reached, when, with +a quick, sharp jerk of his head, the dancer threw the snake into the +center of the plaza. It lay there coiled, sputtering, and rattling in +rage for a moment, then started to glide away. Quick as a flash a +"gatherer" snatched him up and twirled him around his arm.</p> + +<p>As soon as the first dancer was rid of his snake he went for another, +and we noticed that he was always given rattlers. Some of the other +priests had thin, nervous whip snakes; some had big, sluggish bull +snakes; but at least eighty per cent of the snakes were active, angry +rattlers. The first dancer was an old man, gray-headed, and rather +stooped. He had a poor hugger, for at least three times during the dance +the hugger let a rattler strike the old priest. Once the priest flinched +with pain and let the snake loose from his mouth. It hung on to his +cheek with its fangs firmly implanted, and at last he tore him loose +with both hands. The blood spurted from the wound, and a Hopi man beside +me made a nervous clucking sound.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Will he die from that bite?" I asked the Hopi.</p> + +<p>"I think not. Maybe. I don't know." And I'm sure he didn't know any more +about it than I did. But the old fellow continued with his dancing as if +nothing had happened. At last about eighty snakes had been danced with +and were now writhing, animated bouquets in the hands of the gatherers. +A squaw came out and made a circle of sacred meal. Into this all the +snakes were dumped, and more meal was sprinkled on them. Then each +carrier, of which there were four, gathered all the snakes he could +grasp by thrusting his arms into the squirming mass, and one carrier +departed in each direction. We watched one running swiftly down the +cliff until he reached the level desert, where he dumped his cargo, and +came back to the plaza. There he and his other returned companions lined +up on the edge of the mesa and drank a big draught of the secret +preparation prepared by the Snake Priest and his wife. Then they let +nature take its course. Such a heaving, vomiting set of redskins you +never saw!</p> + +<p>This little chore attended to, they removed their paint and prepared to +join in the feast and dancing that would last through the night.</p> + +<p>Before I left I hunted up the old Snake Priest and pressed him for an +explanation of why the snake bites did not harm them. This is what he +told me.</p> + +<p>"We do not extract the fangs. We do not cause the snakes to bite at +things and exhaust their poison. We do not stupefy them with drugs as +you could well see. But we do cleanse the priests so thoroughly that the +poison cannot take hold. For nine days they fast, partaking of no food,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +and only of herb drinks prepared by our wise ones. They have many sweat +baths and get the harmful fluids out of their blood. They have +absolutely no fear of the snakes, and convey to them no nervousness or +anger. Just before the dance they have a big drink of the herb brew, and +they are painted thickly with an ointment that contains herbs that kill +snake poison. Then after the dance, the emetic. That is all."</p> + +<p>"How many of your tribe know of this secret preparation?"</p> + +<p>"Only two. Myself and my squaw. Should I die my squaw tell the secret to +my son. When my squaw die he teach <i>his</i> squaw."</p> + +<p>Probably because this dance is staged at the time of year the rains are +due in Arizona, it is seldom that twenty-four hours elapse after the +dance before a downpour arrives. Hopi Snake Priests are good weather +prophets!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img131.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter XI: THE TERRIBLE BADGER FIGHT</i></h3> + + +<p>When winter ends, spring comes with a rush at the Canyon, and flowers +pop up over night. They follow the melting snow until the hills are +covered with flaming paintbrushes and tender blue lupine. Greasewood and +manzanita put out fragrant, waxy blossoms, and wild pinks and Mariposa +lilies hedge the trails.</p> + +<p>Encouraged by the glorious display of wild flowers, I planned, with more +enthusiasm than judgment, to have a real flower garden beside our new +house.</p> + +<p>I built a low rock wall around the space I had selected, and piled it +full of rich black loam as fine as any green-house could afford. Father +had sent seeds from the old garden at home, and various friends had +contributed from their gardens in the East. These seeds had been planted +in boxes which I kept near the stove until frost was gone. They were +full of promising plants. Hollyhocks, larkspur, pansies, and foxglove +were ready to transplant, when a terrible catastrophe occurred—a little +neighbor girl called<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> on me, and, finding me gone, was right peeved. She +entertained herself by uprooting my posies. With a complete thoroughness +she mixed plants and dirt together, stirring water into the mixture with +my trowel. If her grown-up cake-making is done as conscientiously as was +that job, she'll be a wonderful pastry cook! I discovered the mischief +while it was still fresh, and out of the wreckage salvaged a few brave +seedlings. They pouted awhile before they took heart, and root, but +finally perked up again. Time healed their wounds and if an ambitious +squirrel hadn't been looking for a place to hide a nut I might still +have taken prizes in the state fair. As it was, only a very few sturdy +plants lived to grace the garden. They flourished, and I had begun to +look in their direction without crossing my fingers when a hungry cow +and her yearling boy appeared on the scene.</p> + +<p>"Help yourself, son!" Ma cow said, suiting her actions to the advice +given.</p> + +<p>Midsummer found a lonely cactus and a horned toad blooming in my garden.</p> + +<p>The weather got hotter and more hot, and my bird bath was duly +appreciated by the feathered population. They gathered there in flocks, +and the news went far and wide that water was to be had at the Chief's +house. All the birds that had been fed during the winter brought their +aunts, uncles, and cousins seventy times seven removed, until all I had +to do was lie in my hammock and identify them from a book with colored +plates.</p> + +<p>White Mountain's special pet was a tiny chickadee. This fragile little +speck of birddom fluttered into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> house one stormy day, and the Chief +warmed it in his hands and fed it warm milk and crumbs. From that day on +it belonged, brave soul and wee body, to him. As the days grew warmer it +spent its time somewhere in the forest, but at mealtime when the Chief +came home all he had to do was step outside the door and whistle. Out of +the sky a diminutive atom would hurl itself downward to light on his +outstretched palm. While we ate it would perch on White Mountain's +shoulder and twitter and make soft little noises in its throat, now and +then coming across to me but soon returning to its idol. There was +something so touching in the confidence of the helpless bird, it brought +a tight feeling into one's throat.</p> + +<p>At the height of the drought a national railroad strike was called, and +for a few weeks things looked serious for us poor mortals stranded a +hundred miles from our water supply. Life took a backward leap and we +lived as our forefathers did before us. No water meant no light except +oil lamps, and when the oil supply failed we went to bed at dark. +Flashlights were carefully preserved for emergencies. We learned that +tomato juice will keep life in the body even if it won't quench thirst.</p> + +<p>There was one well four miles away, and rangers were stationed there to +see that nothing untoward happened to that supply. The water was drawn +with a bucket, and it was some job to water all the park animals. +Visitors were at that time barred from the Park, but one sage-brusher +managed to get in past the sentry. He camped at Headquarters and sent +his ten-year-old boy walking to Rowe Well to fill a pail with water and +carry it back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> Just before dark that night the Chief and I coming in +from Hilltop met the little fellow, courageously struggling along eight +miles from Headquarters and getting farther away every step. His bucket +was leaky, and little of the precious water remained. We took him back +to the well again, filled his bucket, and delivered him to his father. +The lad pulled a dime from his pocket and extended it toward the Chief.</p> + +<p>"You keep it, son," said White Mountain.</p> + +<p>"Better take it, Mister. You hauled me quite a ways."</p> + +<p>The Chief leaned toward him confidentially. "You see it's like this. I +work for the Government and Uncle Sam doesn't like for us to take tips."</p> + +<p>And so the matter rested. The boy had discharged his obligation like a +gentleman. He didn't know he had offered the Chief Ranger a dime for +saving his life.</p> + +<p>A few stray I. W. W.'s ("I Won't Works," the rangers called them) came +in to see that nobody did anything for the Santa Fe. Of course the +rangers were put on for guard duty around the railroad station and power +house, day and night, and the fact that they protected the railroad's +property at odd hours did not relieve them from their own regular duties +the rest of the time. For weeks they did the work of three times their +actual number, and did it cheerfully. It finally became necessary to +import Indians from the Navajo Reservation to help with the labor around +the car yard and the boiler yard. These could hardly be described as +having a mechanical turn of mind, but they were fairly willing workers, +and with careful supervision they managed to keep steam up and the +wheels turning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> The shop foreman, however, was threatened with apoplexy +a dozen times a day during their term of service.</p> + +<p>When it seemed that we just couldn't endure any more, some boss +somewhere pulled a string and train service was resumed. This brought in +a mass of tourists, and the rangers were on the alert again to keep them +out of messes.</p> + +<p>One day as the Chief and I were looking at some picturegraphs near the +head of Bright Angel Trail we saw a simple old couple wandering +childlike down the trail.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't go far down the trail," advised White Mountain. "It's very +hot today, and you would not be able to make the return trip. It's lots +harder coming back, you know."</p> + +<p>The old folks smiled and nodded, and we went on home. About midnight the +phone rang, and the Chief groaned before he answered it. A troubled +voice came over the wire.</p> + +<p>"My father and mother went down the trail to the river and haven't come +back. I want the rangers to go and find them," said their son.</p> + +<p>"In the morning," replied the Chief.</p> + +<p>"Right <i>now</i>!" ordered the voice.</p> + +<p>"I, myself, told your father and mother not to go down there. They went +anyway. They are probably sitting on a rock resting, and if so they are +safe. If they are not on the trail the rangers could not find them, and +I have no right to ask my men to endanger their lives by going on such a +wild-goose chase."</p> + +<p>The son, a middle-aged man, acted like a spoiled child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> He threatened +and blustered and raved until the Chief hung up the receiver. At dawn +the rangers went after the two old babes in the wood and found them +creeping slowly up the trail.</p> + +<p>"Ma give out," puffed the husband.</p> + +<p>"Pa was real tuckered hisself," explained Ma. "But we had a nice time +and we'll know to do what we're told next time." She was a game old +sport. Son was speedily squelched by Ma's firm hand, and the adventure +ended. Ma confessed to me that she had sat through the night in deadly +fear of snakes, catamounts, and other "varmints," but, with a twinkle in +her eye: "Don't you dare tell them men folks I was a-scairt!" I knew +just how she felt.</p> + +<p>Everything was up in the air over the Fourth of July celebration that we +intended to stage. It was to be a combination of Frontier Days, Wild +West Show, and home talent exhibition. Indians came from the various +reservations; cow-hands drifted in from the range; tourists collected +around the edges; the rangers were there; and every guide that could be +spared from the trail bloomed out in gala attire. We women had cooked +enough grub to feed the crowd, and there was a barrel of lemonade, over +which a guard was stationed to keep the Indians from falling in head +first.</p> + +<p>The real cowboys, unobtrusive in their overalls and flannel shirts, +teetered around on their high-heeled tight boots and gazed open-mouthed +at the flamboyance of the Fred Harvey imitations. Varied and unique +remarks accompanied the scrutiny. Pretty soon they began to nudge each +other and snicker, and I saw more than one of them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> in consultation with +the rangers. I felt in my bones that mischief was brewing.</p> + +<p>The usual riding and roping and tying stunts were pulled off, and in the +afternoon the Indians were challenged to race horses with the white +boys. The race was for half a mile and back, around the curve of a +hillside. Off they went amid the wildest war-whoops and cowboy yells I +ever heard. The Indians had the advantage, since they burdened their +mounts with neither saddle nor bridle. Stretched flat along the pony's +back, the rider guided him by knee pressure and spurred him to victory +by whistling shrilly in a turned back ear. I was amused to see how the +wily Indians jockeyed for the inside of the track, and they always got +it too. Not a white man's horse won a dollar in the race. It might have +been different, probably would have, in an endurance race, for Indian +horses are swift only in short runs. They never have grain, and few of +them have as much water as they need.</p> + +<p>Just before the sports ended, White Mountain announced that some of the +cowboys had brought a badger into Headquarters with them and that they +had another one located. If they succeeded in capturing it, there would +be a badger fight at the Fred Harvey mess hall that night—provided no +gambling or betting was done. Since the show was to be put on by the +cowboys, they themselves should have the honor of picking the men +fortunate enough to hold the ropes with which the badgers would be tied. +Among the rangers broke out a frenzied dispute as to which ones should +be chosen. That was more than the guides could stand for. No ranger +could put that over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> on <i>them</i>. They pushed in and loudly demanded their +rights from the owners of the fightin' badgers. In fair play to both +sides, Frank Winess was chosen from the ranger force and a sheik +stage-driver, newly arrived, represented Fred Harvey. The guides were +forced to be satisfied with this arrangement. We disbanded to meet at +seven for the fight. In case the other badger made good his escape we +could still have a look at the one already in captivity and the evening +would not be wasted.</p> + +<p>"Better wear your riding boots," Ranger Winess advised me. "Badgers +scratch and fight like forty, and you know your failing when it comes to +getting into the middle of a bad fix." I didn't reply to this, but I put +on my high boots.</p> + +<p>At seven we reached the scene of battle. I was not entirely pleased with +the idea of letting two frantic animals scratch each other to death, but +the Chief seemed quite serene and I had the utmost confidence in his +kindness to dumb animals. Two or three hundred onlookers, including +tourists, were circled around an open space, which was lighted with +automobile headlights. Under each of two big wooden boxes at opposite +sides of the circle, a combatant lay.</p> + +<p>"Stand well back," ordered the Chief. And the crowd edged away. "Hey, +you, Billy, I said no betting!" Billy Joint hastily pocketed the roll of +bills he had been airing.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, Frank?" For Ranger Winess limped into the ring, flinching +at every step.</p> + +<p>"Nothin', Chief," bravely trying to cover up the pain with a grin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I asked you what's the matter!"</p> + +<p>"Well, gee whiz, if you have to know everything, one of them broncs +piled up with me this afternoon, and I busted my knee."</p> + +<p>The Chief felt sorry for Frank, because he knew how his heart was set on +the sport in hand.</p> + +<p>"Sorry, Winess, but you'll have to step out and let Charley take your +place."</p> + +<p>Ranger Fisk began to protest: "Gee, Chief, I ain't a fightin' man. I +don't hanker to hold that tearing varmint." Frank was too crushed to say +anything. But Shorty—in the foremost ranks stood Shorty! No guide so +wonderfully chapped, so brightly handkerchiefed, so amazingly shirted, +or so loudly perfumed as Shorty. He had a tourist girl on his manly arm +and he longed for worlds to conquer.</p> + +<p>He advanced with a firm and determined tread. "Look here, Chief Ranger. +Your man has been disqualified. The rangers have had their chance. It's +up to us guides now. I demand the right to enter this ring."</p> + +<p>The Chief considered the matter. He looked at the rangers, and after a +few mutters they sullenly nodded.</p> + +<p>"All right, Shorty. But you are taking all responsibility. Remember, +whatever happens you have made your own choice. Charley, you and Frank +look out for Margie. You know how foolish she is. She's likely to get +all clawed up."</p> + +<p>I was mad enough to bite nails into tacks! Foolish! Look out for <i>me</i>! +He was getting awfully careful of me all of a sudden. I jerked my arm +loose from Ranger Fisk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> when he tried to lead me back from the front, +and he reluctantly stayed beside me there.</p> + +<p>The pretty stage-driver was nervous. With his gloved hand he kept +smoothing his hair back and he shifted from one foot to the other, while +he grasped the rope firmly. As for Shorty, he was entirely unconcerned, +as became a brave bold man. He merely traded his sheepskin chaps for a +pair of silver-studded leather ones. Then he clamped his wide sombrero +firmly on his head and declared himself ready.</p> + +<p>"Jerk quick and hard when we raise the boxes," the referee directed. "If +they see each other at once, you boys aren't so liable to get bit up."</p> + +<p>"Jerk them out," bellowed Frank.</p> + +<p>They jerked. The onlookers gasped; then howled! then <i>roared</i>!!</p> + +<p>The gladiators fled! Nor stood on the order of their going.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the ring, firmly anchored to the ropes, were two +articles of crockery well known to our grand-mothers in the days when +the plumbing was all outside.</p> + +<p>So ended the Glorious Fourth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img141.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter XII: GRAND CANYON UPS AND DOWNS</i><a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h3> + + +<p>I was busy baking pies one morning when White Mountain sauntered into +the kitchen and stood watching me. "How soon can you be ready to start +across the Canyon?" he asked, as carelessly as though I had not been +waiting for that priceless moment nearly two years.</p> + +<p>"How soon?" I was already untying my apron. "Right <i>now</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not that sudden. I mean can you be ready to start in the morning?"</p> + +<p>And with no more ceremony than that my wonderful adventure was launched. +Long before dawn the next morning I was up and dressed in breeches, wool +shirt, laced boots, and a wide felt hat, and felt like a full-fledged +"dude." The Chief had insisted that I should ride a mule, but I had my +own notions about that and "Supai Bob" was my mount. This was an Indian +racing horse, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> pride of Wattahomigie's heart, but he cheerfully +surrendered him to me whenever I had a bad trail to ride. He was high +from the ground, long-legged, long-necked and almost gaunt, but gentle +and sure-footed.</p> + +<p>We left El Tovar before anybody was stirring and while the depths of the +Canyon were still lost in darkness. At the head of the trail I +involuntarily pulled up short. "Leave hope behind all ye who enter +here," flashed through my brain. Dante could have written a much more +realistic <i>Inferno</i> had he spent a few days in the Grand Canyon +absorbing local color. Far below, the trail wound and crawled, losing +itself in purple shadows that melted before the sun as we descended. The +world still slept, with the exception of a few saucy jays who flew about +us loudly claiming the heavens, the earth, and the waters beneath, +should there be any. Two hours of steady descent brought us to the base +of the red-wall limestone. In that two hours we had passed from the belt +of pine and shrub to the one of sagebrush and cactus. Half an hour +farther, and we arrived at Indian Gardens, a clump of willows and +cottonwoods shading a stream of cold bubbling water from a never-failing +spring. This little stream is full of delicious watercress, and more +than once on festive occasions a ranger had gone down and brought back a +supply to garnish the turkey. Not until I made the ride myself could I +appreciate his service. At one time this spot was cultivated by the +Havasupai Indians; hence the name. Every dude that has followed a Fred +Harvey guide down the trail remembers this God-given oasis with +gratitude. Water and shade and a perfectly good excuse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> for falling out +of the saddle! No flopping mule ears; no toothache in both knees; no +yawning void reaching up for one. Ten whole minutes in Paradise, and +there's always a sporting chance that Gabriel may blow his horn, or an +apoplectic stroke rescue one, before the heartless guide yells: "All +aboard."</p> + +<p>We filled our canteens from the spring, for this is really the last good +water until the bridge is crossed, and rode across the Tonto Trail along +the plateau for five miles, through sagebrush, cactus, and yucca. Here +and there a chuckwalla darted across the trail or a rock squirrel sat on +his haunches and scolded as we passed. Nothing broke the monotony of the +ride. At one point on the ride the trail hangs over the edge of Pipe +Creek, a mere little chasm two thousand feet deep. Anywhere else this +crevice between sheer walls of blackened, distorted, jagged rocks would +be considered one of the original Seven Wonders. Placed as it is, one +tosses it a patronizing glance, stifles a yawn, and rides on. A mile or +so along we crossed a trickle of water coming from Wild Burro Springs, +so named because the burros common to this region come there to drink. +Just as we drew rein to allow our horses to quench their thirst, the +sultry silence was shattered beyond repair. Such a rasping, choking, +jarring sound rolled and echoed back and forth from crag to crag! +"What's that?" I gasped, after I had swallowed my heart two or three +times. The Chief pointed to a rock lying a few feet away. Over the top +of this an enormous pair of ears protruded, and two big, solemn eyes +were glued on us unblinkingly. It was only a wee wild burro, but what a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +large voice he owned! The thousand or more of these small gray and black +animals are a heritage from the day of the prospector. Some of them are +quite tame. One called "Bright Angel" was often utilized by tourists as +a mount while they had pictures snapped to take to the admiring family +left behind.</p> + +<p>We passed on across the plateau and rounded O'Neill Butte, named for +Bucky O'Neill, one of Roosevelt's Rough Riders killed at San Juan Hill, +and we suddenly came to the "sure 'nuff" jumping-off place at the edge +of Granite Gorge. One should have at least a week's warning before this +scene is thrown upon the screen. I think it was here that Irvin Cobb +tendered his resignation—effective immediately. Straight down, fifteen +hundred feet beneath one, flows the Colorado. There are no words to +describe this. One must see it for one's self. Down, down, back and +forth zigzags that trail, jumping from crag to crag and mesa to mesa, +finally running on to the mere thread suspended from wall to wall high +above the sullen brown torrent. When once started down this last lap of +the journey riverward, one finds that the trail is a great deal smoother +than that already traveled. But the bridge! Picture to yourself a +four-foot wooden road, four hundred and twenty feet long, fenced with +wire, and slung on steel cables fifty feet above a rushing muddy river, +and you will see what I was supposed to ride across. My Indian horse +stopped suddenly, planted himself firmly—and looked. I did likewise.</p> + +<p>"Those cables look light," I said, seeking some excuse to stay right +where I was. But the Chief calmly informed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> me that they were "heavy +enough." I presume he should know, having helped to carry them down that +twelve-mile trail. Pride alone prevented me from turning and fleeing +back up that steep trail like a fly up a wall. I looked at White +Mountain. He was riding serenely on, never doubting my close attendance +at his horse's heels. I told myself that I had undoubtedly reached a +bridge that <i>had</i> to be crossed, and so I spoke firmly, or as firmly as +possible under the circumstances, to Supai Bob. No results. Bob was as +unresponsive as any other Indian when he doesn't want to "savvy." I +coaxed, I pulled, I pushed. I spanked with a board. Bob was not +interested in what was across the river. Then and there I formed a high +regard for that pony's sound judgment and will-power. At last the Chief +looked back and saw my predicament. He turned his horse loose to +continue across alone and came back over the wildly swaying bridge to +me.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Just as if he couldn't well see! I glared at him and he grinned.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you talk to him in Supai language?"</p> + +<p>"Speak to him yourself," I snapped and stalked out on that heaving +horror. I never learned the details of the conversation, but a clatter +of hoofs sounded behind me and Bob anchored his nose against my +shoulder, there to remain until terra firma was regained. I worried all +the rest of the way over and back about having to get him across again, +but returning, he walked on to the bridge as if crossing it were his +life work.</p> + +<p>On the north end of the bridge where the cables are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> anchored is a +labyrinth of trails crossing and recrossing. The Chief explained that +Bright Angel, the little wild burro, had made those at a time when high +water had marooned him on that small area. While the bridge was being +built he hung around constantly, and when it was completed he was the +first animal allowed to cross it. I wonder what he thought of the +promised land he had gazed at so longingly for years. Poor Brighty fell +a victim to a tramp who refused to listen to advice, and crossed to the +North Rim after the snows had come. Perhaps he had reasons for hiding +away, but he took little Brighty from his winter home in the bottom of +the Canyon to carry his pack for him. After being snowed in for several +weeks in a cattle cabin several miles back from the Rim, Brighty died of +starvation and was eaten by the man. Brighty had plenty of friends that +miss him when they go down into the Canyon, and it will fare badly with +his murderer if any of the rangers or guides see him again.</p> + +<p>Beside the trail, just across the bridge, is a prehistoric ruin. When +Major Powell landed there on his first trip down the Colorado River in +1869, he found broken pottery, an old "matate" and many chipped flints, +indicating that this had been the home of an arrowmaker. The mealing +stone, or matate, can be seen at Phantom Ranch, half a mile on along the +trail.</p> + +<p>And just at this point of the trip we came to a tragic spot, the one +where Rees Griffith lies buried beside his own well-built trail. It had +been in the dead of winter when Rees was buried there by his friends, +and now the summer's scorching sun was streaming down on his grave.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> The +colorful lines of the half-breed Déprez drifted through my mind:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there he lies now, and nobody knows;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the summer shines, and the winter snows,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the little gray hawk floats aloft in the air,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the gray coyote trots about here and there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the buzzard sails on,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And comes back and is gone,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stately and still like a ship on the sea;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the rattlesnake slides and glitters and glides</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into his rift in a cottonwood tree.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Just that lonely and already forgotten was the resting-place of the +master trail-builder.</p> + +<p>It was noontime now, and all our grub, with the exception of a box of +crackers and a jar of fig jam, likewise our bedding, was far ahead on a +pack mule which had decided not to stop for lunch or dinner. Since we +were not consulted in the matter we lunched on jam and crackers and then +dined on crackers and jam. We hung the remainder of the feast in a tree +and breakfasted on it a week later on our return trip.</p> + +<p>When one tries to describe the trail as it was to the North Rim in those +days, words prove weak. The first twelve miles we had already traveled +are too well known to need description; the remaining twenty—all +rebuilt since that time—defy it. Sometimes the trail ran along in the +creek bed for yards and yards. This made it impassable during the spring +freshets. Arizona horses are trained to drink at every opportunity for +fear there may never be another chance, and our mounts had learned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +their lesson well. They tried to imbibe at every crossing, and long +after they were loaded to the gunwales they dipped greedy noses into the +current.</p> + +<p>Six miles north of the river we turned aside from the main trail and +followed a path a few rods to Ribbon Falls. We had intended to spend the +night there, and I supposed we were to sleep standing up; but there was +Chollo, our prodigal pack mule, who had found a luscious patch of grass +near the Falls and decided to make it her first stopping-place. In that +manner we recovered the bedding roll. White Mountain murmured a few +sweet nothings into her innocent ear and anchored her firmly to a stake. +That didn't please her at all. She complained loudly to her wild +brethren, and they sympathized in heart-comforting brays from all points +near at hand. Our horses were given grain and turned into the grassy +cove, and supper was prepared. And while the coffee boiled we had a +refreshing swim in Nature's bathtub at the bottom of the Falls. High +above, the crystal stream bursts forth from the red cliff and falls in a +sparkling cascade seventy feet, to strike against a big rock upholstered +in softest green. Here it forms a morning-glory pool of almost icy +coolness. Hot coffee and bacon with some of White Mountain's famous +biscuits baked in a reflector tasted like a feed at Sherry's. I watched +the Chief mix his biscuits while I lay resting against the piled-up +saddles. I wondered how he intended to cook them, but managed to keep +still and find out for myself. He took a folded piece of tin from his +pack and with a few magic passes turned it into a roof-shaped structure +resting on its side on two short steel legs. Another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> twist of the wrist +lifted a little tin shelf into place. This contraption was set about a +yard from the glowing fire and the pan of biscuits was placed on the +shelf. As I stared at the open-work baker the biscuits puffed into +lightness and slowly turned a rich tempting brown. After we had eaten +the last one and the camp was put in order, we sat watching a fat moon +wallow lazily up from behind the Rim. Strange forms crept into sight +with the moon-rise—ruined Irish castles, fortresses hiding their dread +secrets, sculptured groups, and weird goblins. By and by a few stars +blossomed—great soft golden splashes, scattered about in an inverted +turquoise bowl. The heavens seemed almost at our fingertips from the +bottom of this deep southern gorge.</p> + +<p>While Bright Angel Creek murmured a soft accompaniment, the Chief told +me how it received its name. An old legend says: Among the first Spanish +explorers a small party attempted to cross the Colorado Canyon. They +wandered down on to the plateau north of the river, and there their food +and water gave out. Many hundreds of feet below them at the bottom of a +sheer precipice flowed the great river. Their leader swooned from thirst +and exhaustion. It seemed certain that death was near. Above them +towered a wall they could not surmount. Just as they were ready to throw +themselves into the river so far below, their leader revived and pleaded +with them to keep going a little longer. He said: "In my dreams I have +seen a beautiful <i>luminoso angelo</i> with sparkling water dripping from +his pinions. He beckons us on, and promises to lead to water." They took +fresh courage and struggled on in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> desperation, when, lo, at their very +feet flowed a crystal stream of life-giving water. In remembrance of the +vision this stream was called "Bright Angel." Pretty as this legend is, +the bestowal of the name is now officially credited to Major Powell.</p> + +<p>After the story ended I crept between my blankets, and as soon as I +became sufficiently inured to the conversation between Chollo and her +sympathizers I fell asleep. But along toward morning some inquisitive +deer came in to share the grain our horses had scattered, and a big +porcupine came home from lodge, quarreling and debating with himself +about something. He stopped near us and chattered angrily about it, +permanently ending our sleep.</p> + +<p>After breakfast we followed the trail through more ancient ruins, into a +cottonwood grove and then on to a sandy flat. Sitting low in my saddle, +almost dozing, I revived suddenly at a never-to-be-mistaken B-u-u-z-z-z! +The horses recognized it instantly and froze in their tracks. Sibilant, +wicked, it sounded again, and then a yellow streak slid across the trail +and disappeared under a low bush. We waited, and pretty soon a +coffin-shaped head came up and waved slowly to and fro. The Chief shot +him with his forty-five and the snake twisted and writhed into the +trail, then lay still. A moment later I had the rattles in my hatband +for a souvenir. "Look out for his mate," the Chief said; but we didn't +see it, and a few days later a ranger camping there found it coiled in +his bed, and its rattles joined the ones already in my possession.</p> + +<p>On and on climbed the trail, growing steeper at every turn. I could have +walked with a greater degree of com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>fort, but the Chief said: "Ride!" So +I rode; and I mean just that. I rode every inch of that horse several +times over. What time I wasn't clinging to his tail being dragged up a +precipice, I was hanging around his neck like a limpet. One time, when +the girth slipped, both the saddle and I rode upside down under his +belly. Some time ago I saw a sloth clinging, wrong end to, to the top +bars of his cage. It brought back painful memories of when the saddle +slipped.</p> + +<p>When we reached the blue-wall a mighty roaring was audible. Far above, a +torrent of water from some subterranean cavern bursts from the ledge +with such force that the sound carries for miles. This is called Roaring +Springs. Getting up over the blue-wall limestone was arduous. This +limestone formation is difficult to conquer wherever it is found. Almost +straight up, clinging to the horse's mane, we climbed, stopping +frequently to let the panting animals breathe.</p> + +<p>As we neared the North Rim, now and then along the trail a wild rose +blossomed, and as we climbed higher we threaded a maze of sweet locust, +fern, and bracken. It was a fairyland. And then the trail topped out at +an elevation of eight thousand feet into the forest primeval. Towering +yellow pines, with feet planted in masses of flowers, pushed toward +heaven. Scattered among the rugged pines were thousands of slender aspen +trees, swaying and quivering, their white trunks giving an artificial +effect to the scene as if the gods had set a stage for some pagan drama. +Ruffed grouse strutted about, challenging the world at large. Our +horses' hoofs scattered a brood and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> sent them scuttling to cover under +vines and blossoms. Roused from his noonday siesta, a startled deer +bounded away. One doe had her fawn secreted near the trail and she +followed us for some distance to make sure her baby was safe.</p> + +<p>As we swung around a curve into an open valley, we came to a decrepit +signpost. And what do you suppose it said? Merely: "Santa Fe R. R. and +El Tovar," while a hand pointed back the way we had come. I wondered how +many travelers had rushed madly around the corner in order to catch the +Santa Fe Limited. But in those days the North Rim seemed to sprout +signs, for soon we overtook this one:<br /><br /></p> + +<p class='center'> + THE JIM OWENS CAMP<br /> + GUIDING TOURISTS AND HUNTING PARTIES A SPECIALTY<br /> + COUGARS CAUGHT TO ORDER<br /> + RATES REASONABLE<br /><br /> +</p> + +<p>Of course the signing of Park lands is contrary to the policies of the +National Park Service, and after White Mountain's inspection trip, these +were promptly removed.</p> + +<p>At length we arrived at Jim's camp. Uncle Jim must have caught several +cougars to order, for the cabin walls were covered with pelts and +murderous-looking claws frescoed the ceiling. Uncle Jim told us that he +has caught more than eleven hundred cougars in the past twenty years. He +guided Teddy Roosevelt on his hunts in Arizona, and I doubt if there is +a hunter and guide living today that is as well known and loved by +famous men as is Jim Owens. He has retired from active guiding now,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> and +spends his time raising buffalo in the Rock House Valley.</p> + +<p>Scenery on the North Rim is more varied and beautiful than that where we +lived at El Tovar. Do you favor mountains? "I will lift up mine eyes to +the hills from whence cometh my help." Far across the Canyon loom the +snow-capped heights of San Francisco Peaks. Truly from those hills comes +help. Water from a huge reservoir filled by melting snow on their +summits supplies water to towns within a radius of a hundred miles.</p> + +<p>Look to the south and you see the Navajo Reservation, and the glorious, +glowing Painted Desert. If peaceful scenes cloy, and you hanker for a +thrill, drop your glance to the Colorado River, foaming and racing a +mile or so below. Sunset from this point will linger in my memory while +I live. A weird effect was caused by a sudden storm breaking in the +Canyon's depths. All sense of deepness was blotted out and, instead, +clouds billowed and beat against the jutting walls like waves breaking +on some rock-bound coast.</p> + +<p>Point Sublime has been featured in poems and paint until it needs little +introduction. It was here that Dutton drew inspiration for most of his +poems of Grand Canyon, weaving a word picture of the scene, +awe-inspiring and wonderful. How many of you have seen the incomparable +painting of the Grand Canyon hanging in the Capitol at Washington? The +artist, Thomas Moran, visited Point Sublime in 1873 with Major Powell, +and later transferred to canvas the scene spread before him.</p> + +<p>Deer and grouse and small animals were about us all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> the way, and I had +the pleasure of seeing a big white-tailed squirrel dart around and +around a tree trunk. This squirrel is found nowhere else.</p> + +<p>That evening at sunset we drove with Blondy Jensen to VT Park through +the "President's Forest." At first we saw two or three deer together, +and then we came upon them feeding like herds of cattle, literally +hundreds of them. They were all bucks. Blondy said the does were still +back in the deep woods with their fawns. We reached the Diamond Bar +Ranch just as supper was ready, and the cowboys invited us to eat. Two +big Dutch ovens were piled with live coals before the fireplace. I eyed +them with a lot of curiosity until a smiling cowboy lifted the lids for +me to peep within. One was full of simmering tender beef and the other +held biscuits just turning a delicious brown. I made up our minds then, +and we all stayed for supper.</p> + +<p>It was late when we started back to our camp on the Rim, and the big car +slid along at a great rate. Suddenly Blondy jammed on the brakes and +almost lost me through the windshield. An enormous full-grown deer +loomed directly in front of the headlights. There he stood, head thrown +back, nostrils distended, monarch of all he surveyed. A moment longer he +posed, then leaped away into the darkness, leaving us wondering if we +had really seen anything.</p> + +<p>All too soon it was time for us to start back to the South Rim, and we +made a reluctant departure. It rained on us part of the way, and +loosened rocks made the going perilous. Halfway down the steepest part +we met half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> a dozen loose pack mules. One of the first rules of safety +for a trail without turnouts is that no loose stock must be allowed on +it. My Indian horse chose that particular time and place to throw a fit +of temperament, and he climbed out of the way of the wild mules by +scrambling up a perpendicular rock and flattening out against the +hillside. I slid off over his tail and landed in the trail on the back +of my neck, but popped up to see what had happened to the Chief. The +pack mules were being urged on from the rear by a fool mule-skinner, and +they had crowded Tony, the Chief's mount, off the trail on to a +good-sized rock that stuck out over the brink. He stood trembling on the +rock and the Chief stood beside him on the same rock with an arm around +the scared horse's neck, talking to him in his usual slow, calm way, all +the time stroking Tony's ears and patting his neck. Inch by inch the +rock was parting from the earth holding it, and it seemed to me I would +just die of terror. White Mountain just kept on talking to the horse and +trying to coax him back into the trail. At last Tony turned an almost +human look on the Chief and then stepped back into the trail, just as +the boulder gave way and went crashing down the incline, carrying trees, +rocks, and earth with it.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you let him go? Why did you just stand there like an idiot?" +I raved. The reaction was so great that I entirely lost my temper.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my good new saddle was on him. I couldn't let that go, you know," +said White Mountain.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the mules continued to mill and buck in the trail. Up +rushed Mr. Mule-Skinner. He addressed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> the Chief in about these words: +"Get the hell outa my way, you —— —— fool. Ain't you got no sense at +all?"</p> + +<p>We will skip the next inch or two of this narrative, and let kind +oblivion cover it as cool dusk masks the ravages of burning noon. +Anyway, this was part of a hunting outfit, including Fred Stone, bound +for the North Rim. To this day I can't see any comedy in Mr. Stone's +acting.</p> + +<p>Tony seemed quite unnerved by his encounter, and as we crossed the +swinging bridge he became startled at something and plunged wildly +against the wire fencing the bridge. The Chief threw out a hand to +steady himself and his ring, caught on a broken wire, cut into and +buried itself in his flesh. When we reached the south end of the bridge +we dismounted and tried to care for the painful wound, but with no +medicine or water there was little we could do. We bound it up in a +handkerchief and went on to the top, the Chief suffering agonies with +the injury and the intense heat. On top a ranger cut the flesh away and +filed the ring off. I added it to my other souvenirs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img157.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter XIII: SISTERS UNDER THE SKIN<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></i></h3> + + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"For the Colonel's Lady and Judy O'Grady</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Are sisters under the skin!"</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>"And what of the women and children? How do they live?" I have been +asked again and again, when speaking of Indians of the Southwest. And +who isn't interested in the intimate details of the home life of our +Indian sisters?</p> + +<p>What of their work? Their homes? Their dress? And—most interesting to +us paleface women—what of their love affairs?</p> + +<p>Most of you have seen the stolid squaw, wrapped in a soiled blanket, +silently offering her wares to tourists throughout the Southwest. Does +it seem strange to you that this same stoical creature is just bubbling +over with femininity? That she loves with devotion, is torn with +passionate jealousy, and adorns herself just as carefully within her +limited means for the benefit of masculine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> eyes, as you do? Among +friends she sparkles, and laughs and gossips with her neighbors over a +figurative back fence just as you do in Virginia or Vermont. Just +living, loving, joyous, or sorrowing women are these brown-skinned +sisters of ours.</p> + +<p>Were I looking for inspiration to paint a Madonna I would turn my steps +toward the Painted Desert, and there among the Indian people I would +find my model. Indian mothers are real mothers. Their greatest passion +is mother-love. Not a pampering, sheltering, foolish love, but a great, +tender love that seeks always what is best for the child, regardless of +the mother's feelings or the child's own desires. The first years of an +Indian baby's life are very simple. Apart from being fed without having +to catch his dinner, there is not much to choose between his existence +and that of any other healthy young animal. He and his little companions +dart about in sunshine and rain, naked as little brown kewpies. I have +never seen a deformed Indian baby or one with spinal trouble. Why? +Because the mothers grow up living natural lives: they dress in +loose-fitting, sensible clothing; they wear flat-heeled shoes or +moccasins; they eat plain, nourishing food; and they walk and ride and +work until almost the minute the child is born. They take the newborn +babe to a water hole, bathe it, then strap it on a straight board with +its little spine absolutely supported. Here it spends the first six +months of its existence.</p> + +<p>The child's chin is bound round with a soft strip of leather, so that +its breathing is done through its nostrils; no adenoids or mouth +breathing among the Indians, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> very little lung trouble as long as +they do not try to imitate the white man's ways.</p> + +<p>Different tribes celebrate the birth of a child in different ways. The +gift is always welcome when a little new life comes into an Indian home. +The Hopi mother rubs her baby with wood ashes so that its body will not +be covered with hair. Then a great feast is held and thank-offering +gifts are received. Each relative brings an ear of corn to the mother +and gives a name to the child. It may receive twenty or more names at +birth, and yet in later life it will choose a name for itself or be +named by its mother.</p> + +<p>Not so much ceremony greets the Navajo baby. Navajo mothers are far too +busy and baby additions are too frequent to get excited about. The +mother bathes herself and the newcomer in cold water, wraps him in his +swaddling clothes of calico, straps him on his board cradle, suspends it +on a limb, and goes on with the spinning or weaving that had occupied +her a few minutes before. All Indian babies are direct gifts from the +Powers That Be, and a token of said Powers' favor. A childless Indian +wife is pitied and scoffed at by her tribe.</p> + +<p>After a few months the child is released from his cradle prison and +allowed to tumble around the mother's loom while she weaves her +blankets. He entertains himself and learns to creep and then to walk +without any help. If there is an older child he is left in its care. It +is not unusual to see a two or three-year-old youngster guarding a still +younger one, and keeping it out of the fire or from under the hoofs of +the ponies grazing around the camp.</p> + +<p>As the children grow older they are trained to work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> The boys watch the +flocks and help cultivate the fields, if fields there be, and the little +girls are taught the household tasks of tanning the sheep hides, drying +the meat in the sun, braiding the baskets, carding and spinning wool and +making it into rugs, shaping the pottery and painting and baking it over +the sheep-dung fires. These and dozens of other tasks are ever at hand +for the Indian woman to busy herself with. If you think for an instant +that you'd like to leave your own house and live a life of ease with the +Indian woman, just forget it. It is a life of labor and hardship, of +toil and endless tasks, from day-break until long after dark, and with +the most primitive facilities one can imagine. Only on calendars do we +see a beauteous Indian maiden draped in velvet, reclining on a mossy +bank, and gazing at her own image in a placid pool. That Indian is the +figment of a fevered artist brain in a New York studio. Should a real +Indian woman try that stunt she'd search a long way for the water. Then +she'd likely recline in a cactus bed and gaze at a medley of hoofs and +horns of deceased cows bogged down in a mud hole. Such are the +surroundings of our real Indians.</p> + +<p>Indian women are the home-makers and the home-keepers. They build the +house, whether it be the brush hewa of the Supai or the stone pueblo of +the Hopi. They gather the piñon nuts and grind them into meal. They +crush the corn into meal, and thresh and winnow the beans, and dry the +pumpkin for winter use. They cut the meat into strips and cure it into +jerky. They dry the grapes and peaches. They garner the acorns and store +them in huge baskets of their own weaving. They shear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> the sheep, and +wash, dye, spin, and weave the wool into marvelous blankets. They cut +the willows and gather sweet grasses for the making of baskets and +trays. They grind and knead and shape clay into artistic pottery and +then paint it with colors gleaned from the earth. They burn and bake the +clay vessels until they are waterproof, and they carry them weary miles +to the railway to sell them to the tourists so that their children may +have food and clothing.</p> + +<p>The Hopi woman brings water to the village up a mile or two of +heart-breaking trail, carrying it in great ollas set on her head or +slung on her back. She must have water to make the mush for supper, and +such trivial things as a shampoo or a bath are indulged in only just +before the annual Snake Dance. Religion demands it then!</p> + +<p>Where water is plentiful, however, the Indians bathe and swim daily. +They keep their hair clean and shining with frequent mud baths! Black, +sticky mud from the bottom of the river is plastered thickly over the +scalp and rubbed into the hair, where it is left for several hours. When +it is washed away the hair is soft, and gleams like the sheeny wing of +the blackbird. Root of the yucca plant is beaten into a pulp and used as +a shampoo cream by other tribes. Cosmetics are not greatly in use among +these women. They grow very brown and wrinkled at an early age, just +when our sheltered women are looking their best. This is accounted for +by the hard lives they live, exposed to the burning summer suns and +biting winter winds, and by cooking over smoky campfires or hovering +over them for warmth in the winter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>An Indian's hands are never beautiful in an artistic sense. How could +they be? They dress and tan the sheep and deer hides; they make +moccasins and do exquisite bead work; they cut and carry the wood and +keep the fires burning. They cook the meals and sit patiently by until +the men have gobbled their fill before they partake. They care tenderly +for the weaklings among the flocks of sheep and goats. Navajo women +often nurse a deserted or motherless lamb at their own ample breasts. +They make clothes for themselves and their families, although to look at +the naked babies one would not think the dress-making business +flourished.</p> + +<p>But with all the duties incumbent on an Indian mother she never neglects +her children. They are taught all that she thinks will help them live +good lives. The girls grow up with the knowledge that their destiny is +to become good wives and mothers. They are taught that their bodies must +be kept strong and fit to bear many children. And when the years of +childhood are passed they know how to establish homes of their own.</p> + +<p>Many interesting customs are followed during courtship among the tribes. +The Pueblos, among whom are the Hopis, have a pretty way by which the +maidens announce their matrimonial aspirations. How? By putting their +soft black hair, which heretofore has been worn loose, into huge whorls +above the ears. This is called the squash-blossom headdress and +signifies maturity. When this age is reached, the maiden makes up her +mind just which lad she wants, then lets him know about it. The Hopi +girl does her proposing by leaving some cornmeal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> piki or other edible +prepared by her own hands at the door of the selected victim under cover +of darkness. He usually knows who has left it, and then, if "Barkis is +willin'," he eats out of the same bowl of mush with her, the medicine +man holds a vessel of water into which both dip their hands, and the +wedding ceremony is finished. He moves into the bride's house and they +presumably live happily ever afterward. However, squalls do arise +sometimes, and then the husband is likely to come home from work in the +fields or a night at the lodge and find his wardrobe done up in his +Sunday bandanna waiting on the doorstep for him. In that case all he can +do is take his belongings and "go home to mother." His wife has divorced +him by merely throwing his clothes out of her house.</p> + +<p>Navajo bucks purchase their wives for a certain number of sheep or +horses, as do also the Supai, Cheyenne, Apache, and other desert tribes. +There is not much fuss made over divorce among them, either. If a wife +does not like her husband's treatment of her, she refuses to cook for +him or to attend to any of her duties, and he gladly sends her back to +her father. He, like Solomon of old, agrees that "it is better to dwell +alone in the wilderness than with an angry and contentious woman." The +father doesn't mind getting her back, because he keeps the original +purchase price and will also collect from the next brave that wants to +take a chance on her; why should he worry? In a few instances braves +have been known to trade wives and throw in an extra pony or silver belt +to settle all difficulties. The missionaries are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> doing much to +discourage this practice and are trying to teach the Indians to marry in +a civilized manner. In case they do succeed let us hope that while the +savages embrace the marrying idea they will not emulate civilized people +in divorce matters.</p> + +<p>For a primitive people with all the untrained impulses and natural +instincts of animals, there is surprisingly little sexual immorality +among the tribes. It seems that the women are naturally chaste. For +there is no conventional standard among their own people by which they +are judged. If an unmarried squaw has a child, there are deploring +clucks, but the girl's parents care tenderly for the little one and its +advent makes no difference in the mother's chances for a good marriage. +Also the child does not suffer socially for its unfortunate birth, which +is more humane at least than our method of treating such children. The +children of a marriage take the mother's name and belong to her clan. +She has absolute control of them until the girl reaches a marriageable +age; then Dad collects the marriage price.</p> + +<p>Another thing we civilized parents might take into consideration. Indian +babies are never punished by beating or shaking. It is the Indian idea +that anything which injures a child's self-respect is very harmful. Yet +Indian children are very well-behaved, and their respect and love for +their elders is a beautiful thing. I have never seen an Indian child cry +or sulk for anything forbidden it.</p> + +<p>Schools for Reservation children are compulsory, but whether they are +altogether a blessing or not is still doubtful. To take an Indian child +away from its own free,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> wild life, teach it to dress in white man's +clothes, eat our food, sleep in our beds, bathe in white-tiled bathtubs, +think our thoughts, learn our vices, and then, having led them to +despise their own way of living, send them back to their people who have +not changed while their children were being literally reborn—what does +this accomplish? Doesn't Aesop tell us something of a crow that would be +a dove and found himself an outcast everywhere? We are replacing the +beautiful symbolism of the Indian by our materialism and leaving him +bewildered and discouraged. Why should he be taught to despise his +hogan, shaped after the beautiful rounded curve of the rainbow and the +arched course of the sun in his daily journey across the sky—a type of +home that has been his for generations? Do we ever stop to think why the +mud hut is dome-shaped, why the door always faces the east?</p> + +<p>I have been watching one Hopi family for years. In this case simple +housekeeping, plain sewing, and suitable cooking have been taught to the +girl in school. The mother waits eagerly for the return of the daughter +from school so that she can hear and learn and share what has been +taught to her girl. Her efforts to keep pace with the child are so +intense and her pride in her improved home is so great that it is +pitiful. Isn't there some way the elders can share the knowledge we are +trying to give the younger generation, so that parents and children may +be brought closer together rather than estranged?</p> + +<p>No matter what color the skin, feminine nature never varies! Let one +squaw get a new calico dress, and it creates a stir in every tepee. The +female population gathers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> to admire, and the equivalent to our ohs and +ahs fills the air. It takes something like twenty yards of calico to +make an Indian flapper a skirt. It must be very full and quite long, +with a ruffle on the hem for good measure. There is going to be no +unseemly display of nether limbs. When a new dress is obtained it is put +on right over the old one, and it is not unusual for four or five such +billowing garments to be worn at once. A close-fitting basque of velvet +forms the top part of this Navajo costume, and over all a machine-made +blanket is worn. Store-made shoes, or more often the hand-made moccasins +of soft doeskin trimmed with silver and turquoise buttons, are worn +without stockings. The feet of Indian women are unusually small and +well-shaped. The amount of jewelry that an Indian wears denotes his +social rank, and, like their white brothers, they adorn the wife, so +that it is not unusual to see their women decked out until they resemble +prosperous Christmas trees. Many silver bracelets, studded with the +native turquoises, strings and strings of silver beads, and shell +necklaces, heavy silver belts, great turquoise earrings, rings and +rings, make up the ensemble of Navajo jewelry. Even the babies are +loaded down with it. It is the family pocketbook. When an Indian goes to +a store he removes a section of jewelry and trades it for whatever takes +his fancy. And one thing an Indian husband should give fervent thanks +for—his wife never wears a hat.</p> + +<p>Our Indian sisters are not the slaves of their husbands as we have been +led to believe. It is true that the hard work in the village or camp is +done by the squaws, but it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> is done cheerfully and more as a right than +as a duty. In olden times the wives kept the home fires burning and the +crops growing while the braves were on the warpath or after game. Now +that the men no longer have these pursuits, it never occurs to them to +do their wives' work. Nor would they be permitted to do it.</p> + +<p>After the rugs, baskets, or pottery are finished, the husband may take +them to the trading-post or depot and sell them; but the money must be +turned over to the wife or accounted for to her full satisfaction.</p> + +<p>All the Indian women are tireless and fearless riders. They ride +astride, with or without a saddle, and carry two or three of the smaller +children with them. However, if there is only one pony, wifie walks, +while her lordly mate rides. That is Indian etiquette.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img168.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter XIV: THE PASSING SHOW</i></h3> + + +<p>Tourists! Flocks of them, trainloads and carloads! They came and looked, +and passed on, and were forgotten, nine-tenths of them at least.</p> + +<p>Anyone who is interested in the study of human nature should set up shop +on the Rim of the Grand Canyon and watch the world go by. I have never +been able to determine why Eastern people can't act natural in the West! +For instance: Shy spinster schoolma'ams, the essence of modesty at home, +catch the spirit of adventure and appear swaggering along in the +snuggest of knickers. They would die of shame should their home-town +minister or school president catch them in such apparel. Fat ladies +invariably wear breeches—tight khaki breeches—and with them they wear +georgette blouses, silk stockings, and high-heeled pumps. I have even +seen be-plumed chapeaux top the sport outfit. One thing is a safe +bet—the plumper the lady, the snugger the breeches!</p> + +<p>Be-diamonded dowagers, hand-painted flappers, timid wives from Kansas, +one and all seem to fall for the "My<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> God" habit when they peer down +into the Canyon. Ranger Winess did tell me of one original damsel; she +said: "Ain't it cute?"</p> + +<p>I was standing on the Rim one day, watching a trail party through field +glasses, when a stout, well-dressed man stopped and asked to borrow my +glasses. He spoke of the width and depth of the Canyon, and stood +seemingly lost in contemplation of the magnificent sight. I had him +classified as a preacher, and I mentally rehearsed suitable Biblical +quotations. He turned to me and asked, "Do you know what strikes me most +forcibly about this place?"</p> + +<p>"No, what is it?" I hushed my soul to listen to some sublime sentiment.</p> + +<p>"<i>I haven't seen a fly since I've been here!</i>"</p> + +<p>I was spluttering to White Mountain about it and wishing I had pushed +him over the edge, but the Chief thought it was funny. He said the man +must have been a butcher.</p> + +<p>It is a strange fact that tourists will not listen to what Rangers tell +them to do or not to do. The Government pays men who have spent their +lives in such work to guide and guard strangers when they come into the +National Parks. Many visitors resent advice, and are quite ready to cry +for help when they get into difficulties or danger by ignoring +instructions. And usually they don't appreciate the risks that are taken +to rescue them from their own folly.</p> + +<p>A young man from New York City, with his companion, walked down the +Bright Angel Trail to the Colo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>rado River. Everybody knows, or should +know, that the Colorado River is a most treacherous river. One glance at +the sullen, silt-filled current tells that story. It seldom gives up its +dead. But the New Yorker swam it, with his shoes and underclothing on. +By the time he reached the far side he was completely exhausted. More +than that he was panic-stricken at the undercurrents and whirlpools that +had pulled at him and almost dragged him under. He would not swim back. +His companion signaled and yelled encouragement, but nothing doing.</p> + +<p>Behind him rose a hundred-foot precipice; his clothes and his friend +were on the southern bank. The bridge was four miles above, but +unscalable walls made it impossible for him to reach that. Furthermore, +night was at hand.</p> + +<p>When his friend knew that it was hopeless to wait any longer, he left +him perched on a rock and started to Headquarters for help. This was a +climb over seven miles of trail that gained a mile in altitude in that +distance. Disregarding the facts that they had already done their day's +work, that it was dark, and that his predicament was of his own making, +the rangers went to the rescue.</p> + +<p>A canvas boat was lashed on a mule, another mule was led along for the +victim to ride out on, and with four rangers the caravan was off. It was +the plan to follow the trail to the Suspension Bridge, cross to the +northern bank, follow down the river four miles to the cliff above the +spot where the adventurer was roosting let the boat down over the ledge +to the river, and, when the New Yorker got in, pull the boat upstream by +means of the ropes until they found a safe place to drag it to shore.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>When almost down the trail they met the lad coming up, and he was mad! +"Why didn't they come quicker? Why wasn't there a ranger down there to +keep him from swimming the river?" And so forth. But no thanks to the +men that had gone willingly to his rescue. However, they said they were +well paid by the sight of him toiling up the trail in the moonlight, <i>au +naturel</i>! They loaded him on a mule and brought him to the top. Then he +refused to pay Fred Harvey for the mule. I might add <i>he paid</i>!</p> + +<p>I often wondered why people pay train fare across the continent and then +spend their time poking around in <i>our</i> houses. They would walk in +without knocking, pick up and examine baskets, books, or anything that +caught their fancy. One woman started to pull a blanket off my couch, +saying "What do you want for this?" It was an old story to members of +the Park Service, and after being embarrassed a few times we usually +remembered to hook the door before taking a bath.</p> + +<p>One day Chief Joe and I were chatting in front of the Hopi House. His +Indians had just completed one of their entertaining dances. As it +happened we were discussing a new book that had just been published and +I was interested in his view of the subject, <i>Outline of History</i>. All +at once an imposing dowager bore down upon us with all sails set.</p> + +<p>"Are you a real Indian?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam," Joe bowed.</p> + +<p>"Where do you sleep?"</p> + +<p>"In the Hopi House."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you eat?" She eyed him through her lorgnette.</p> + +<p>"Most everything, madam," Joe managed to say.</p> + +<p>Luckily she departed before we lost control of ourselves. Joe says that +he has been asked every question in the category, and then some. I think +some of our stage idols and movie stars would be jealous if they could +see the number of mash notes Joe receives. He is flattered and sought +after and pursued by society ladies galore. The fact that he is married +to one of his own people and has a fat, brown baby does not protect him.</p> + +<p>The Fred Harvey guides could throw interesting lights on tourist conduct +if they wished, but they seldom relate their experiences. Our card club +met in the recreation room of the guide quarters, and sometimes I would +get a chance to listen in on the conversation of the guides. Their +narrations were picturesque to say the least.</p> + +<p>"What held you up today, Ed?"</p> + +<p>"Well," drawled Ed, "a female dude wouldn't keep her mule movin' and +that slowed up the whole shebang. I got tired tellin' her to kick him, +so I jest throwed a loop round his neck and hitched 'im to my saddle +horn. She kept up then."</p> + +<p>"Make her mad?"</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh." A pause while he carefully rolled and lighted a cigarette. "I +reckon so. When we topped out an' I went to help her down, she wuz right +smart riled."</p> + +<p>"Say she wuz goin' to report you to the President of these here United +States?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know about that. She gimme a cut across the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> face with her bridle +reins." Another pause. "'Twas real aggravatin'."</p> + +<p>Personally, I marveled at his calm.</p> + +<p>"What made you late in toppin' out?" Ed asked in his turn.</p> + +<p>"Well, we wuz late in startin' back, anyhow, and then I had to stop fer +an hour pickin' cactus thorns outta an old-maid female."</p> + +<p>"Mule unload her in a patch, or did she sit down on one?" Ed was +interested.</p> + +<p>"Naw, didn't do neither one. She tried to eat a prickly pear offa bush +of cactus, and got her tongue full uv stickers. Said she always heard +tell them cactus apples wuz good eatin'. I propped her mouth open with a +glove so she couldn't bite none, and I picked cactus stickers till I wuz +plumb weary."</p> + +<p>"Yeh, women is funny that way," philosophized the listener. "They do say +Eve et an apple when she shouldn't ought to had."</p> + +<p>Another lad was lamenting because he had a pretty girl next to him in +the trail party; as he said: "I was sure tryin' to make hay before the +sun went down. Every time I'd say something low and confidential for her +ear alone, a deaf old coot on the tail-end of the line would let out a +yarp—</p> + +<p>"'What'd you say, Guide?' or, 'I didn't get <i>that</i>, Guide.'</p> + +<p>"I reckon he thought I was exclaimin' on the magnificence of the +picturesque beauty of the scenery, and he wasn't gittin' his money's +worth of the remarks."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>One guide said he had trouble getting a man to make the return trip. He +was so scared going down he figured he'd stay down there rather than +ride back up the trail.</p> + +<p>Every morning, rain, snow, or shine, these guides, in flaming +neckerchiefs, equally audible shirts, and woolly chaps, lead their +string of patient mules up to the corral at the hotel, where the trail +parties are loaded for the trip into the Canyon. Each mule has a +complete set of individual characteristics, and mules are right set in +their ways. If one wants to reach over the edge of a sheer precipice and +crop a mouthful of grass, his rider may just as well let him reach. +Mules seldom commit suicide, although at times the incentive must be +strong.</p> + +<p>"Powder River," "Dishpan," "Rastus," and a few other equally hardy mule +brethren are allotted to carry helpless fat tourists down the trail. +It's no use for a fragile two-hundred-pound female to deny her weight. +Guides have canny judgment when it comes to guessing, and you can't fool +a Harvey mule.</p> + +<p>"Saint Peter," "Crowbar," and "By Jingo" are assigned to timid old +ladies and frightened gentlemen.</p> + +<p>If I were issuing trail instructions for Canyon parties I would say +something like this, basing my directions on daily observation:</p> + +<p>"The trail party starts about nine o'clock, and the departure should be +surrounded with joyous shouts of bravado. After you have mounted your +mule, or been laboriously hoisted aboard, let your conscience guide you +as to your actions up and down the trail. When you top out at the end of +the day and it is your turn to be unloaded,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> weakly drag your feet out +of the stirrups, make sure that the guide is planted directly underneath +you, turn loose all holds, and fall as heavily as possible directly on +top of him.</p> + +<p>"After you have been placed on your feet, say about the third time, it +might be well to make a feeble effort to stand alone. This accomplished, +hobble off to the hotel, taking care to walk as bow-legged as possible. +If you have a room with bath, dive into a blistering hot tubful and +relax. If you were having a stingy streak when you registered, order a +bath at the public bathroom and be thankful you have seventy-five cents +with which to pay for it. Later take an inventory of your damages and, +if they are not too severe, proceed to the dining-room and fill up on +the most soul-satisfying meal Fred Harvey ever placed before the public.</p> + +<p>"Afterward, in the lobby, between examinations of 'I wish you were here' +postcards, it might be well to warn newcomers about the dangers of the +trip. Probably few tourists are as expert riders as you."</p> + +<p>We liked to poke fun at the saddle-sore dudes, but all the same the trip +is a soul-trying one, and the right to boast to home folks about it is +hardly earned.</p> + +<p>It is really a revelation to study the reaction of the Canyon on various +races. On leaving the train a Japanese or Korean immediately seeks out a +ranger or goes to the Park Office and secures every bit of information +that is to be had. Age, formation, fauna, and flora are all +investigated. Then armed with map, guidebook, and kodak he hikes to the +bottom of the trail, and takes everything apart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> en route to see how it +is made. English and German travelers come next in earnest study and +observation. I am sorry to say that all foreigners seemed to show more +intelligent interest in the Canyon than our own native Americans. +Perhaps that is because only the more educated and intellectual +foreigners are able to make the trip across the ocean. Lots of Americans +never get farther than El Tovar, where they occupy easy chairs, leaving +them several times a day to array themselves in still more gorgeous +raiment.</p> + +<p>Of course, out of the hundreds of thousands that come to Grand Canyon, +only a stray one now and then causes any anxiety or trouble. It is human +nature to remember those that make trouble while thousands of the finest +in the land pass unnoticed. Any mother can tell you that gentle, +obedient Mary is not mentioned once, whereas naughty, turbulent Jane +pops into the conversation continually. Rangers feel the same way about +their charges.</p> + +<p>Perhaps a hundred people got on the train leaving the Canyon one snowy +zero night. Those people were forgotten instantly, but not so the +bellicose dame found wandering around the station asking when <i>her</i> +train would go. She had a ticket to New York, and stood on the platform +like Andy Gump while the train with her baggage aboard pulled out.</p> + +<p>"It was headed the wrong way!" she explained tearfully, and stuck to her +story, even when the sorely tried superintendent led her to the tracks +and showed her that said track absolutely and finally ended there, +without argument or compromise. And she was furious. Her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> former +outburst was a mild prelude to what poured forth now. She would <i>not</i> +stay there until morning when the next train left. She demanded a +special train; she ordered a handcar with which to overtake the recreant +train; she called for a taxi to chase across to Williams with her, a +mere eighty miles of ten-foot snowdrifts. Only shortage of breath +occasioned by altitude and outraged sensibilities prevented her +commandeering an airplane! None of these vehicles being forthcoming, she +would stop in Washington if she ever made her escape from this +God-forsaken hole, and have every Park employee fired. The +Superintendent took her to the hotel, then came to me for help.</p> + +<p>"Please lend her a comb and a nightgown," he begged.</p> + +<p>"All right." I was used to anything by now. "Silk or flannel?"</p> + +<p>"Well," he said thoughtfully. "She acts like red flannel but probably +expects crêpe de chine."</p> + +<p>I sent both over, and never saw either again.</p> + +<p>My heart went out to a poor little lady, sent by heartless relatives, +traveling with only a maid. She was not mentally able to care for +herself and certainly should not have been allowed to visit Grand +Canyon. However, she and the maid arrived, with other visitors, and the +maid seated her charge on a bench near the Rim, then went away about her +own business. When she came back, behold, the little lady had vanished. +After a long time, the maid reported her absence to the Ranger Office, +and a search was organized. Soon after the rangers had set out to look +for her, an automobile traveling from Flagstaff reported they had met a +thinly dressed woman walking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> swiftly out into the desert. She had +refused to answer when they spoke to her, and they were afraid she was +not responsible for her actions.</p> + +<p>Ranger Winess, the Chief, and I climbed into the ever-ready Ford and +took up the trail. A heavy storm was gathering and the wind cut like a +knife. For several miles we saw nothing; then we saw her tracks in the +muddy road where the sun had thawed the frozen ground earlier in the +day. After a while great flakes of snow came down, and we lost all +trace. Backtracking ourselves, we found where she had left the road and +had hidden behind a big rock while we had passed. For an hour, through +the falling snow, with night closing around us, we circled and searched, +keeping in touch with each other by calling back and forth continually. +It would have been easy enough for the rangers to have lost me, for I +had no idea what direction I was moving in. We were about to give up and +go back to Headquarters for men and lights when Ranger Winess stumbled +over her as she crouched behind a log. She would have frozen to death in +a very short time, and her coyote-picked bones would probably never have +been discovered. She insisted she knew what she was about, and we had +literally to lift her into the car and take her back to El Tovar.</p> + +<p>Whether the Canyon disorganized their judgment or whether they were +equally silly at home I cannot tell, but certainly the two New England +school teachers who tried horseback-riding for the first time, well—! I +was mixing pie crust when the sound of thundering hoofbeats down through +the woods took me to the door. Just at my porch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> some men were digging a +deep ditch for plumbing. Two big black horses, a woman hanging around +the neck of each, came galloping down on us, and as the foremost one +gathered himself to leap the ditch, his fainting rider relaxed and fell +right into the arms of a young Mormon workman. He carried her into my +house, and I, not being entirely satisfied with the genuineness of the +prolonged swoon, dismissed the workman and dashed the ice-cold pie crust +water in her face. She "came to" speedily. Her companion arrived about +that time and admitted that neither of them had ever been on a horse +before, and not wanting to pay for the services of a guide they had +claimed to be expert riders. It hadn't taken the horses long to find out +how expert their riders were, and they had taken matters into their own +hands, or perhaps it might be better to say they had taken the bits in +their teeth and started for their stable.</p> + +<p>The girl on the leading horse said she had been looking for quite a +while for a suitable place to fall, and when she saw the Mormon she knew +that was her chance!</p> + +<p>It wasn't always the humans that got into trouble, either. I remember a +beautiful collie dog that was being given an airing along the Rim. He +suddenly lost his head, dashed over the low wall, and leaped to his +death a thousand feet below. It took an Indian half a day of arduous +climbing around fissures and bluffs to reach him and return him to his +distracted owners for burial. They could not bear to leave the Canyon +until they knew he was not lying injured and suffering on a ledge +somewhere.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img180.jpg" alt="Chapter Header" title="Chapter Header" /></div> + +<h3><i>Chapter XV: FOOLS, FLOOD, AND DYNAMITE</i></h3> + + +<p>The Chief and I stayed home for a few days, and life rambled on without +untoward incident. I began to breathe easier and stopped crossing my +fingers whenever the phone rang.</p> + +<p>I even grew so placid that I settled myself to make a wedding dress for +the little Mexican girl who helped me around the house. Her father was +head of the Mexican colony whose village lies just out of Headquarters. +Every member of the clan was a friend of mine, for I had helped them +when they were sick and had saved all the colored pictures in magazines +for their children.</p> + +<p>The wedding day dawned early, very early! At five o'clock I dragged +myself from my warm bed and went to the schoolhouse where the wedding +was staged. Father Vabre married the couple, and then we all went home +with the happy pair. An accordion and a harmonica furnished music enough +for several weddings; at least they made plenty of racket. We were +seated at the table with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> the bride and groom. They sat there all day +long, she still wearing her long wedding veil. The groom was attired in +the niftiest shepherd-plaid suit I ever beheld. The checks were so large +and so loud I was reminded constantly of a checker-board. A bright blue +celluloid collar topped the outfit. I do not think the bridal couple +spoke a word all day. They sat like statues and stonily received +congratulations and a kiss on each cheek from all their friends. There +was such a lot of dancing and feasting, and drinking the native wine +secured for that grand occasion. Our plates were loaded with food of all +sorts, but I compromised with a taste of the wine and a cup of coffee. +The dancing and feasting lasted two or three days, but one day exhausted +my capacity for endurance.</p> + +<p>Soon after the wedding, a tiny baby sister of the bride died, and its +father came to get permission to bury it in the Park cemetery. I asked +if I could do anything to help them, and Sandoval said I was to make the +dress and put it on the baby for them. He produced bright orange +organdie and pink ribbons for the purpose. Next morning I took the +completed dress and some flowers the El Tovar gardener had contributed +down to their home. I dressed the wee mite in the shroud, which was +mightily admired, and placed the crucifix the mother gave me in its tiny +waxen fist. Then the bride came with her veil and wreath of orange +blossoms, and said she wanted to give them to the little sister. The +mother spoke no English, but she pointed here and there where she wanted +the flowers and bright bows of ribbon pinned. Strange, it looked to me, +the little dead baby decked out in wedding finery, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> the poor mother +was content. She patted a ribbon and smoothed the dress, saying to me in +Spanish:</p> + +<p>"The Madonna will find my baby <i>so</i> beautiful!"</p> + +<p>One hot August day, the Chief and Ranger West went down into Salt Creek +Basin, at the bottom of the Canyon, to look for some Government horses +that had strayed away. In spite of their feeble protests I tagged along.</p> + +<p>We had checked up on the stock and were following the trail homeward. +Ranger West rode in front on Black Dixie. Ordinarily he would have been +humming like an overgrown bumblebee, or talking to Dixie, who he said +was the only female he knew he would tell secrets to. But we had ridden +far that day, and the heat radiated from the great ore rocks was almost +beyond endurance. Now and then we could catch a glimpse of the river +directly at the foot of the ledge our trail followed, and the water +looked invitingly cool. All at once Dixie stopped so suddenly that +Ranger West almost took a header. A man's hat was lying in the trail. +Dismounting, the men looked for tracks. A quite legible story was +written there for them to read. Some tenderfoot, thirst-crazed, had +stumbled along that trail since we had passed that way a couple of hours +earlier. Putting our horses to a lope we rode on until we came to his +empty canteen; and a little farther on to a discarded coat and shirt. +The tracks in the sand wavered like those of a drunken man.</p> + +<p>"We'll find his shoes next," the Chief called to Ranger West; "and then +pretty soon the end of the trail for him. Can't go far barefoot in this +hot sand."</p> + +<p>"Say," Ranger West shouted, "White Mountain, Poi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>son Spring is just +around the bend. We'll find the poor devil flattened out there sure. +<i>You</i> ride slow, Margie, and we'll hurry along."</p> + +<p>I didn't say anything, but I hurried along too. This spring he spoke of +was strongly impregnated with arsenic. Even the wild burros shunned it; +but I hardly dared to hope this desperate man would pass by it. The men +rode over the expected shoes without stopping, but I got off of Tar Baby +and got them. I began to think I would stay a little way behind. I felt +rather weak and sick. Rounding the turn I could see there was nothing at +the spring, and in the distance a stumbling figure was weaving along. +The men were nearing him, so I spurred to a run. Every now and then the +man would fall, lie prone for a minute, then struggle to his feet and go +on. Suddenly my heart stood still. The figure left the trail and headed +straight for the edge of the precipice. The river had made itself heard +at last.</p> + +<p>Ranger West turned Dixie from the trail and rode straight across the +plateau to where the man had disappeared behind a big boulder. The Chief +followed West, but I rode the trail and kept my eyes resolutely ahead of +me. I knew I couldn't endure seeing the man jump to certain death when +we were at his heels with water and life.</p> + +<p>When I looked up again Ranger West had his rope in his hand widening the +loop. White Mountain was with him. They were ten or fifteen feet from +the man, who was lying on his stomach peering down at the water. As the +poor fellow raised himself for the plunge, with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> quick flirt of his +wrist the ranger tossed the rope across the intervening space, and as +the noose settled around the man's arms White Mountain and the ranger +dragged him back from death.</p> + +<p>He lay stunned for a space, then twisted himself over, and mumbled +through swollen, bleeding lips: "Is that really water down there?"</p> + +<p>They helped him back into the trail and gave him a swallow from a +canteen. It took both the men to manage him, for with the first taste of +water he went raving crazy. He fought and cursed them, and cried like a +baby because he couldn't hold the canteen in his own hands. They laid +him in the shade of our horses and poured a few drops down his throat at +intervals until a degree of sanity returned. He was then placed on the +Chief's horse, and the Chief and Ranger West took turns, one riding +Dixie while the other helped the man stay in the saddle. We found later +he was a German chemist looking for mineral deposits in the Canyon.</p> + +<p>Each morning a daily report of the previous day's doings is posted in +Ranger Headquarters. I was curious to know what Ranger West's +contribution would be for that day. This is what he said:</p> + +<p>"Patrolled Tonto Trail looking for lost horses. Accompanied Chief Ranger +and wife. Brought in lost tenderfoot. Nothing to report."</p> + +<p>And that was that.</p> + +<p>The Chief decided to drive out to Desert View the afternoon following +our Canyon experience, and he said I could go if I liked; he said he +couldn't promise any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> excitement, but the lupine was beautiful in Long +Jim Canyon, and I might enjoy it.</p> + +<p>"Thank God for a chance to be peaceful. I'm fed up on melodrama," I +murmured, and I climbed into that old Ford with a breath of relief.</p> + +<p>We had such a beautiful drive. I waded waist-high in the fragrant +lupine, and even took a nap on pine needles while White Mountain located +the bench mark he was seeking. When he came back to me he said we had +better start home. He saw a cloud that looked as if it might rain.</p> + +<p>Before we reached the Ford, the rain came down; then more rain came, and +then there was a cloudburst. By that time we were well down toward the +middle of Long Jim Canyon. This canyon acts just like a big ditch when +rain falls. We had to keep going, and behind us a wall of water raced +and foamed and reached out for us. It carried big logs with it, and +maybe that water didn't make some time on the down grade.</p> + +<p>"Hang on, hold everything!" the Chief yelled in my ear, and we were off +on as mad a race as John Gilpin ever rode. Henry would be proud of his +offspring if he knew how one <i>could</i> run when it had a flood behind it.</p> + +<p>"Peaceful! Quiet!! Restful!!!" I hissed at the Chief, between bumps. +Driving was rather hazardous, because the water before us had carried +trees and débris into the road almost blocking it at places. Now and +then we almost squashed a dead cow the flood had deposited in our path.</p> + +<p>I hoped the gasoline would hold out. I prayed that the tires would last. +And I mentally estimated the endur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>ance power of springs and axles. +Everything was jake, to use a cowboy expression, and we reached the +mouth of the Canyon where both we and the flood could spread out.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" said the Chief, wiping his face. I didn't say anything.</p> + +<p>I can't remember that anything disastrous happened for two or three days +after the flood. Life assumed an even tenor, and I yawned occasionally +from sheer ennui.</p> + +<p>To break the monotony I made a salad. That was momentous! Salads meant +something in our young lives out there. One of the rangers on leave had +returned and brought me a fine head of lettuce—an entirely rash way of +saying it with flowers. One last can of shrimp reposed on the shelf. It +almost had cobwebs on it, we had cherished it so long, saving it for +some grand spree. The time had arrived. That salad looked tempting as I +sliced the rosy pimiento on top and piled it in the blue and white bowl. +The ranger who contributed the lettuce was an invited guest, and he +stood on one foot, then on the other, while the dressing was mixed. Even +White Mountain hovered over it anxiously.</p> + +<p>Just then came a knock! A very famous "bugologist" had come to call on +us. Of course the Chief invited him to dinner, while the ranger and I +looked glumly at each other. Maybe there wouldn't be plenty of salad for +four!</p> + +<p>Our guest was deep in his favorite sport, telling us all about the bugs +that killed the beautiful yellow pines at the Canyon.</p> + +<p>"Have some butter, Professor, and try this salad," invited White +Mountain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thanks, it looks enticing," answered our distinguished guest, and he +placed the bowl with all its contents on his plate. Bite by bite the +salad disappeared, while he discoursed on the proper method of killing +the Yellow Pine Beetle.</p> + +<p>"Why aren't you folks eating some of this delicious salad? You deprive +yourself of a treat when you refuse to eat salads. The human body +requires the elements found in fresh, leafy plants, etc., etc."</p> + +<p>I gave the Chief's shins a sharp little kick.</p> + +<p>"We seldom eat salads," murmured White Mountain.</p> + +<p>I think I heard the disappointed ranger mutter: "Damn right we don't!"</p> + +<p>When the last bite was gone we all stepped outside to look for signs of +the dread beetle on our own trees. While we stood there a blast was put +off by the construction gang on the railway directly in front of our +house. Rocks, 'dobe, and pine cones rattled down all around us. We beat +a retreat into the house and the Chief called to the man in charge and +warned him that such charges of powder as that must be covered if any +more blasting were to be done.</p> + +<p>Again next morning big rocks struck the house, and broke a window. In +the absence of a ranger, I walked down and requested the Turk in charge +of the labor to use a little more discretion. Our house was newly +painted inside and out. My windows were all clean, new curtains were up, +the floors were newly waxed, and we were quite proud of our place of +abode. I said to the Turk I was afraid the roof would leak if such sharp +rocks hit it. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> replied insolently that if he blew the roof off, the +Santa Fe would put another on. I went back to the house in fear and +trembling, and picked up my sewing. For half an hour I sewed in quiet. +Then a terrific explosion rent the air. There was ominous silence for an +instant, then the house crumpled over my head. The ridgepole came +crashing down, bringing part of the roof and ceiling with it. Rocks and +a great boulder fell into the room, knocking the stove over. Ashes and +soot went everywhere. One rock grazed me and knocked the sewing basket +from my lap. Part of a railroad tie carried the window sash and curtains +in with it and landed on the piano.</p> + +<p>I have a vague recollection of searching vainly for my thimble, and then +of grimly determining to locate the Chief's gun. It is well he wore his +arsenal that day, else the usual order of things would have been +reversed—a Christian would have massacred a Turk!</p> + +<p>While I was aimlessly wandering around through the wreckage, half dazed, +White Mountain and the Superintendent rushed in. They frantically pulled +me this way and pushed me that, trying to find out if I were hopelessly +injured, or merely killed. They found out I could still talk! Then they +turned their attention to the Turk and his men who came trooping in to +view the remains. It seemed they had put down a charge of four sticks +and it had failed to explode. So they had added four more and let her +ramble. It was <i>some</i> blow-up! At least the Turk found it so.</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to do?" that unfortunate asked me, after the Park +men finished with him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, go outside and die!"</p> + +<p>"White Mountain, give me your pocketbook. I'm going to buy a ticket to +West Virginia. I've had enough of the great open spaces," I continued.</p> + +<p>"Why go now?" he wanted to know. "You've escaped death from fire, flood, +and fools. Might as well stay and see it through."</p> + +<p>So we started shoveling out the dirt.<br /><br /></p> + +<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Reprinted, by permission, with a few changes, from <i>Good +Housekeeping</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Reprinted, by permission, with a few changes, from <i>Good +Housekeeping</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Reprinted, by permission, with a few changes from <i>Good +Housekeeping</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Reprinted, by permission, from the <i>Los Angeles Times</i> +Sunday magazine.</p></div></div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's I Married a Ranger, by Dama Margaret Smith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I MARRIED A RANGER *** + +***** This file should be named 18538-h.htm or 18538-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/3/18538/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: I Married a Ranger + +Author: Dama Margaret Smith + +Release Date: June 8, 2006 [EBook #18538] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I MARRIED A RANGER *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + I Married a Ranger + + _By Dama Margaret Smith_ + + (_Mrs. "White Mountain"_) + + + + + STANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS STANFORD UNIVERSITY, CALIFORNIA + LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS + STANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS STANFORD UNIVERSITY, CALIFORNIA + LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS + THE MARUZEN COMPANY TOKYO, OSAKA, KYOTO, SENDAI + THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 55 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK + + Copyright 1930 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior + University All Rights Reserved Published 1930 + + PRINTED AND BOUND IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY STANFORD UNIVERSITY + PRESS + + + + + _This book is lovingly dedicated + to + White Mountain Smith + who has made me glad + I married a Ranger_ + + + + +_FOREWORD_ + + +_I Married a Ranger_ is an intimate story of "pioneer" life in a +national park, told in an interesting, humorous way, that makes it most +delightful. + +To me it is more than a book; it is a personal justification. For back +in 1921, when the author came to my office in Washington and applied for +the clerical vacancy existing at the Grand Canyon, no woman had been +even considered for the position. The park was new, and neither time nor +funds had been available to install facilities that are a necessary part +of our park administrative and protective work. Especially was the Grand +Canyon lacking in living quarters. For that reason the local +superintendent, as well as Washington Office officials, were opposed to +sending any women clerks there. + +Nevertheless, after talking to the author, I decided to make an +exception in her case, so she became the first woman Government employee +at the Canyon. _I Married a Ranger_ proves that the decision was a happy +one. + +It is a pleasure to endorse Mrs. Smith's book, and at the same time to +pay a tribute of admiration to the women of the Service, both employees +and wives of employees, who carry on faithfully and courageously under +all circumstances. + + ARNO B. CAMMERER + _Associate Director,_ + National Park Service + + + + + TABLE OF CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. "_Out in Arizona, Where the Bad Men Are_" 1 + + II. "_This Ain't Washington!_" 11 + + III. "_I Do!_" 21 + + IV. _Celebrities and Squirrels_ 31 + + V. _Navajo Land_ 42 + + VI. "_They Killed Me_" 56 + + VII. _A Grand Canyon Christmas_ 67 + + VIII. _The Day's Work_ 77 + + IX. _The Doomed Tribe_ 89 + + X. _Where They Dance with Snakes_ 104 + + XI. _The Terrible Badger Fight_ 121 + + XII. _Grand Canyon Ups and Downs_ 131 + + XIII. _Sisters under the Skin_ 147 + + XIV. _The Passing Show_ 158 + + XV. _Fools, Flood, and Dynamite_ 170 + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter I: "OUT IN ARIZONA, WHERE THE BAD MEN ARE"_ + + +"So you think you'd like to work in the Park Office at Grand Canyon?" + +"Sure!" "Where is Grand Canyon?" I asked as an afterthought. + +I knew just that little about the most spectacular chasm in the world, +when I applied for an appointment there as a Government worker. + +Our train pulled into the rustic station in the wee small hours, and +soon I had my first glimpse of the Canyon. Bathed in cold moonlight, the +depths were filled with shadows that disappeared as the sun came up +while I still lingered, spellbound, on the Rim. + +On the long train journey I had read and re-read the _Grand Canyon +Information Booklet_, published by the National Park Service. I was +still unprepared for what lay before me in carrying out my role as field +clerk there. So very, very many pages of that booklet have never been +written--pages replete with dangers and hardships, loneliness and +privations, sacrifice and service, all sweetened with friendships not +found in heartless, hurrying cities, lightened with loyalty and love, +and tinted with glamour and romance. And over it all lies a fascination +a stranger without the gates can never share. + +I was the first woman ever placed in field service at the Grand Canyon, +and the Superintendent was not completely overjoyed at my arrival. To be +fair, I suppose he expected me to be a clinging-vine nuisance, although +I assured him I was well able to take care of myself. Time softens most +of life's harsh memories, and I've learned to see his side of the +question. What was he to do with a girl among scores of road builders +and rangers? When I tell part of my experiences with him, I do so only +because he has long been out of the Service and I can now see the +humorous aspect of our private feud. + +As the sun rose higher over the Canyon, I reluctantly turned away and +went to report my arrival to the Superintendent. He was a towering, +gloomy giant of a man, and I rather timidly presented my assignment. He +looked down from his superior height, eyed me severely, and spoke +gruffly. + +"I suppose you know you were thrust upon me!" + +"No. I'm very sorry," I said, quite meekly. + +While I was desperately wondering what to do or say next, a tall blond +man in Park uniform entered the office. + +The Superintendent looked quite relieved. + +"This is White Mountain, Chief Ranger here. I guess I'll turn you over +to him. Look after her, will you, Chief?" And he washed his hands of +me. + +In the Washington office I had often heard of "White Mountain" Smith. I +recalled him as the Government scout that had seen years of service in +Yellowstone before he became Chief Ranger at Grand Canyon. I looked him +over rather curiously and decided that I liked him very well. His keen +blue eyes were the friendliest I had seen since I left West Virginia. He +looked like a typical Western man, and I was surprised that his speech +had a "down East" tone. + +"Aren't you a Westerner?" + +"No, I'm a Connecticut Yankee," he smiled. "But we drift out here from +everywhere. I've been in the West many years." + +"Have you ever been in West Virginia?" I blurted. Homesickness had +settled all over me. + +He looked at me quickly, and I reckon he saw that tears were close to +the surface. + +"No-o, I haven't been there. But my father went down there during the +Civil War and helped clean up on the rebels!" + +Sparks flew then and I forgot to be homesick. But he laughed and led me +toward my new home. + +We strolled up a slight rise through wonderful pine trees, with here and +there a twisted juniper giving a grotesque touch to the landscape. The +ground was covered with springy pine needles, and squirrels and birds +were everywhere. We walked past rows and rows of white tents pitched in +orderly array among the pines, the canvas village of fifty or more road +builders. By and by we came to a drab gray shack, weather-beaten and +discouraged, hunched under the trees as if it were trying to blot +itself from the scene. I was passing on, when the Chief (White Mountain) +stopped me with a gesture. + +"This is your home," he said. Just that bald statement. I thought he was +joking, but he pushed the door open and we walked inside. The tiny shack +had evidently seen duty as a warehouse and hadn't been manicured since! +But in view of the fact that the Park Service was handicapped by lack of +funds, and in the throes of road building and general development, I was +lucky to draw a real house instead of a tent. I began to see why the +Superintendent had looked askance at me when I arrived. I put on my +rose-colored glasses and took stock of my abode. + +It was divided into two rooms, a kitchen and a combination +living-dining-sleeping-dressing-bath-room. The front door was a heavy +nailed-up affair that fastened with an iron hook and staple. The back +door sagged on its leather hinges and moved open or shut reluctantly. +Square holes were cut in the walls for windows, but these were innocent +of screen or glass. Cracks in the roof and walls let in an abundance of +Arizona atmosphere. The furniture consisted of a slab table that +extended all the way through the middle of the room, a wicker chair, and +a golden-oak dresser minus the mirror and lacking one drawer. + +White Mountain looked surprised and relieved, when I burst out laughing. +He didn't know how funny the financial inducements of my new job sounded +to me while I looked around that hovel: "So much per annum and furnished +quarters!" + +"We'll fix this up for you. We rangers didn't know until this morning +that you were coming," he said; and we went down to see if the cook was +in a good humor. I was to eat at the "Mess House" with the road crew and +rangers, provided the cook didn't mind having a woman around. I began to +have leanings toward "Equal-Rights-for-Women Clubs," but the cook was as +nice as could be. I fell in love with him instantly. Both he and his +kitchen were so clean and cheerful. His name was Jack. He greeted me as +man to man, with a hearty handclasp, and assured me he would look after +me. + +"But you'll have to eat what the men do. I ain't got time to fix fancies +for you," he hastened to add. + +A steel triangle hung on a tree near the cookhouse door, and when dinner +was ready Jack's helper struck it sharply with an iron bar. This made a +clatter that could be heard a mile and brought the men tumbling from +their tents to eat. As I was washing my hands and face in the kitchen I +heard Jack making a few remarks to his boarders: "Now don't any you +roughnecks forget there's a lady eatin' here from now on, and I'll be +damned if there's goin' to be any cussin', either." I don't believe they +needed any warning, for during the months I lived near their tents and +ate with them they never "forgot." + +Many of them no doubt had come from homes as good as mine, and more than +one had college degrees. As they became accustomed to having me around +they shed their reserve along with their coats and became just what they +really were, a bunch of grown-up boys in search of adventure. + +A week later it seemed perfectly natural to sit down to luncheon with +platters of steak, bowls of vegetables, mounds of potatoes, and pots of +steaming black coffee; but just then it was a radical change from my +usual glass of milk and thin sandwich lunch. The food was served on long +pine tables, flanked by backless benches. Blue and white enamel dishes, +steel knives and forks, and of course no napkins, made up the service. +We drank coffee from tin cups, cooling and diluting it with condensed +milk poured from the original can. I soon learned that "Shoot the cow!" +meant nothing more deadly than "Pass the milk, please!" + +The rangers ate at a table apart from the other men. The Chief sat at +the head of the table, and my plate was at his right. Several rangers +rose to greet me when I came in. + +"I'm glad you came," said one of them. "We are apt to grow careless +without someone to keep the rough edges polished for us." That was +Ranger Charley Fisk, the most loyal, faithful friend one could wish for. +He was never too tired nor too busy to add a shelf here or build a +cabinet there in my tiny cabin for me. But all that I had to learn +later. There was Frank, Ranger Winess; he and the Chief had been +together many years in Yellowstone; and Ranger West, and Ranger Peck. +These and several more were at the table. + +"Eat your dinner," the Chief advised, and I ate, from steak to pie. The +three meals there were breakfast, dinner, and supper. No lettuce-leaf +lunch for them. + +Dinner disposed of, I turned my attention to making my cabin fit to +live in. The cook had his flunky sweep and scrub the floor, and then, +with the aid of blankets, pictures, and draperies from my trunks, the +little place began to lose its forlorn look. White Mountain contributed +a fine pair of Pendleton blankets, gay and fleecy. He spread a Navajo +rug on the floor and placed an armful of books on the table. Ranger Fisk +threw the broken chair outside and brought me a chair he had made for +himself. Ranger Winess had been riding the drift fence while we worked, +but he appeared on the scene with a big cluster of red Indian paintbrush +blossoms he had found in a coulee. None of us asked if they were picked +inside the Park. + +No bed was available, and again Ranger Fisk came to the rescue. He lent +me his cot and another ranger contributed his mattress. + +White Mountain was called away, and when he returned he said that he had +hired a girl for the fire look-out tower, and suggested that I might +like to have her live there with me. "She's part Indian," he added. + +"Fine. I like Indians, and anyway these doors won't lock. I'm glad to +have her." So they found another cot and put it up in the kitchen for +her. + +She was a jolly, warm-hearted girl, used to life in such places. Her +husband was a forest ranger several miles away, and she spent most of +her time in the open. All day she stayed high in the fire tower, with +her glasses scanning the surrounding country. At the first sign of +smoke, she determined its exact location by means of a map and then +telephoned to Ranger Headquarters. Men were on their way immediately, +and many serious forest fires were thus nipped in the bud. + +She and I surveyed each other curiously. I waited for her to do the +talking. + +"You won't stay here long!" she said, and laughed when I asked her why. + +"This is a funny place to put you," she remarked next, after a glance +around our new domain. "I'd rather be out under a tree, wouldn't you?" + +"God forbid!" I answered earnestly. "I'm no back-to-nature fan, and this +is primitive a-plenty for me. There's no bathroom, and I can't even find +a place to wash my face. What shall we do?" + +We reconnoitered, and found the water supply. We coaxed a tin basin away +from the cook and were fully equipped as far as a bathroom was +concerned. + +Thea--for that was her Indian name--agreed that it might be well to +fasten our doors; so we dragged the decrepit dresser against the front +portal and moved a trunk across the back entrance. As there were no +shades at the windows, we undressed in the dark and retired. + +The wind moaned in the pines. A querulous coyote complained. Strange +noises were everywhere around us. Scampering sounds echoed back and +forth in the cabin. My cot was hard and springless as a rock, and when I +stretched into a more comfortable position the end bar fell off and the +whole structure collapsed, I with it. Modesty vetoed a light, since the +men were still passing our cabin on their way to the tents; so in utter +darkness I pulled the mattress under the table and there made myself as +comfortable as possible. Just as I was dozing, Thea came in from the +kitchen bringing her cot bumping and banging at her heels. She was +utterly unnerved by rats and mice racing over her. We draped petticoats +and other articles of feminine apparel over the windows and sat up the +rest of the night over the smoky lamp. Wrapped in our bright blankets it +would have been difficult to tell which of us was the Indian. + +"I'll get a cat tomorrow," I vowed. + +"You can't. Cats aren't allowed in the Park," she returned, dejectedly. + +"Well, then rats shouldn't be either," I snapped. "I can get some traps +I reckon. Or is trapping prohibited in this area?" + +Thea just sighed. + +Morning finally came, as mornings have a habit of doing, and found me +flinging things back in my trunk, while my companion eyed me +sardonic-wise. I had spent sufficient time in the great open spaces, and +just as soon as I could get some breakfast I was heading for Washington +again. But by the time I had tucked in a "feed" of fried potatoes, eggs, +hot cakes, and strong coffee, a lion couldn't have scared me away. +"Bring on your mice," was my battle cry. + +At breakfast Ranger Fisk asked me quite seriously if I would have some +cackle berries. I looked around, couldn't see any sort of fruit on the +table, and, remembering the cook's injunction to eat what he set before +me, I answered: "No, thank you; but I'll have an egg, please." After +the laughter had subsided, White Mountain explained that cackle berries +were eggs! + +I told the rangers about the mice in my house, and the cook overheard +the conversation. A little later a teamster appeared at my cabin with a +tiny gray kitten hidden under his coat. + +"Cook said you have mice, Miss. I've brought 'Tuffy' to you. Please keep +him hid from the rangers. He has lived in the barn with me up to now." + +With such a loyal protector things took a turn for the better, and my +Indian friend, my wee gray cat, and myself dwelt happily in our little +Grayhaven. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter II: "THIS AIN'T WASHINGTON!"_ + + +"This ain't Washington, and we don't keep bankers' hours here," was the +slogan of the Superintendent. He spoke that phrase, chanted it, and sang +it. He made a litany of it; he turned it into a National Anthem. It came +with such irritating regularity I could have sworn he timed it on a +knotted string, sort of "Day-by-day-in-every-way" tempo, one might say. +And it wasn't Washington, and we didn't live lives of ease; no banker +ever toiled from dawn until all hours of the night, Sunday included! + +I made pothooks and translated them. I put figures down and added them +up. For the road crew I checked in equipment and for the cook I chucked +out rotten beef. The Superintendent had boasted that three weeks of the +program he had laid out for me would be plenty to send me back where I +came from and then he would have a regular place again. But I really +didn't mind the work. I was learning to love the Arizona climate and the +high thin air that kept one's spirits buoyed up in spite of little +irritations. I was not lonely, for I had found many friends. + +When I had been at the Canyon a few days the young people gave a party +for me. It was my debut, so to speak. The world-famous stone building at +Hermit's Rest was turned over to us for the evening by the Fred Harvey +people, and, attended by the entire ranger force, I drove out the nine +miles from Headquarters. We found the house crowded with guides, +cowboys, stage-drivers, and their girls. Most of the girls were Fred +Harvey waitresses, and if you think there is any discredit attached to +that job you had better change your mind. The girls there were +bookkeepers, teachers, college girls, and stenographers. They see the +world and get well paid while doing it. + +The big rendezvous at Hermit's Rest resembles an enormous cavern. The +fireplace is among the largest anywhere in the world, and the cave +impression is further carried out by having flat stones laid for the +floor, and rock benches covered with bearskins and Navajo rugs. Many +distinguished guests from all parts of the globe have been entertained +in that room, but we forgot all about distinguished personages and had a +real old-fashioned party. We played cards and danced, and roasted +weenies and marshmallows. After that party I felt that I belonged there +at the Canyon and had neighbors. + +There were others, however. The Social Leader, for instance. She tried +to turn our little democracy into a monarchy, with herself the +sovereign. She was very near-sighted, and it was a mystery how she +managed to know all about everything until we discovered she kept a pair +of powerful field-glasses trained on the scene most of the time. The +poor lady had a mania for selling discarded clothing at top prices. We +used to ask each other when we met at supper, "Did you buy anything +today?" I refused point-blank to buy her wreckage, but the rangers were +at a disadvantage. They wanted to be gentlemen and not hurt her +feelings! Now and then one would get cornered and stuck with a +second-hand offering before he could make his getaway. Then how the +others would rag him! One ranger, with tiny feet, of which he was +inordinately proud, was forced to buy a pair of No. 12 shoes because +they pinched the Social Leader's Husband's feet. He brought them to me. + +"My Gawd! What'll I do with these here box cars? They cost me six bucks +and I'm ruined if the boys find out about it." + +An Indian squaw was peddling baskets at my house, and we traded the +shoes to her for two baskets. I kept one and he the other. Not long +after that he was burned to death in a forest fire, and when I packed +his belongings to send to his mother the little basket was among his +keepsakes. + +There was a Bridge Fiend in our midst, too! She weighed something like +twenty stone, slept all forenoon, played bridge and ate chocolates all +afternoon, and talked constantly of reducing. One day she went for a +ride on a flop-eared mule; he got tired and lay down and rolled over and +over in the sand. They had some trouble rescuing her before she got +smashed. I told her the mule believed in rolling to help reduce. She +didn't see the joke, but the mule and I did. Grand Canyon life was too +exciting for her, so she left us. + +A quaint little person was the rancher's wife who brought fresh eggs and +vegetables to us. She wore scant pajamas instead of skirts, because she +thought it "more genteel," she explained. When a favorite horse or cow +died, she carefully preserved the skull and other portions of the +skeleton for interior-decoration purposes. + +Ranger Fisk and I took refuge in her parlor one day from a heavy rain. +Her husband sat there like a graven image. He was never known to say +more than a dozen words a day, but she carried on for the entire family. +As Ranger Fisk said, "She turns her voice on and then goes away and +forgets it's running." She told us all about the last moments of her +skeletons before they were such, until it ceased to be funny. Ranger +Fisk sought to change the conversation by asking her how long she had +been married. + +"Ten years; but it seems like fifty," she said. We braved the rain after +that. + +Ranger Fisk was born in Sweden. He ran away from home at fourteen and +joined the Merchant Marine, and in that service poked into most of the +queer seaports on the map. He had long since lost track of his kinsfolk, +and although he insisted that he was anxious to marry he carefully kept +away from all marriageable ladies. + +Ranger Winess was the sheik of the force. Every good-looking girl that +came his way was rushed for a day and forgotten as soon as another +arrived. He played his big guitar, and sang and danced, and made love, +all with equal skill and lightness. The only love he was really constant +to was Tony, his big bay horse. + +Ranger West, Assistant Chief Ranger, was the most like a storybook +ranger of them all. He was essentially an outdoor man, without any +parlor tricks. I have heard old-timers say he was the best man with +horses they had ever known. He was much more interested in horses and +tobacco than he was in women and small talk. But if there was a +particularly dangerous task or one requiring sound judgment and a clear +head, Ranger West was selected. + +He and Ranger Fisk and Ranger Winess were known as the "Three +Musketeers." They were the backbone of the force. + +Sometimes I think my very nicest neighbor was the gardener at El Tovar +Hotel. He saw me hungrily eying his flowers, and gave me a generous +portion of plants and showed me how to care for them. I planted them +alongside my little gray house, and after each basin of water had seen +duty for cleansing purposes it went to water the flowers. We never +wasted a drop of water. It was hauled a hundred miles in tank cars, and +cost accordingly. I sometimes wondered if we paid extra for the red bugs +that swam around in it so gaily. Anyway, my flowers didn't mind the +bugs. They grew into masses of beautiful foliage and brilliant blossoms. +I knew every leaf and bud on them. I almost sat up nights with them, I +was so proud of their beauty. My flowers and my little gray kitten were +all the company I had now. The fire guard girl had gone home. + +One of my neighbors asked me to go with a group of Fred Harvey girls to +visit the Petrified Forest, lying more than a hundred miles southeast +of the Canyon. As I had been working exceptionally hard in the Park +Office, I declared myself a holiday, and Sunday morning early found us +well on the way. + +We drove through ordinary desert country to Williams and from there on +past Flagstaff and eastward to Holbrook. Eighteen miles from there we +began to see fallen logs turned into stone. + +My ideas of the Petrified Forest were very vague, but I had expected to +see standing trees turned to stone. These big logs were all lying down, +and I couldn't find a single stump! We drove through several miles of +fallen logs and came to the Government Museum where unique and choice +specimens had been gathered together for visitors to see. It is hard to +describe this wood, that isn't wood. It looks like wood, at least the +grain and the shape, and knotholes and even wormholes are there; but it +has turned to beautifully brilliant rock. Some pieces look like +priceless Italian marble; others are all colors of the rainbow, blended +together into a perfect poem of shades. + +Of course I asked for an explanation, and with all the technical terms +left out, this is about what I learned: "These trees are probably forty +million years old! None of them grew here. This is proved in several +ways: there are few roots or branches and little bark." + +The ranger saw me touch the outside of a log that was covered with what +looked to me like perfectly good bark! He smiled. + +"Yes, I know that looks like bark, but it is merely an outside crust of +melted sand, et cetera, that formed on the logs as they rolled around in +the water." + +"Water?" I certainly hadn't seen any water around the Petrified Forest. + +"Yes, water. This country, at one time, was an arm of the Pacific Ocean, +and was drained by some disturbance which brought the Sierra Mountains +to the surface. These logs grew probably a thousand miles north of here +and were brought here in a great flood. They floated around for +centuries perhaps, and were thoroughly impregnated with the mineral +water, doubtless hot water. When the drainage took place, they were +covered by silt and sand to a depth of perhaps two thousand feet. Here +the petrifaction took place. Silica was present in great quantities. +Manganese and iron provided the coloring matter, and through pressure +these chemicals were forced into the grain of the wood, which gradually +was absorbed and its cell structure replaced by ninety-nine per cent +silica and the other per cent iron and manganese. Erosion brought what +we see to the top. We have reason to believe that the earth around here +covers many thousand more." + +After that all soaked in I asked him what the beautiful crystals in +purple and amber were. These are really amethysts and topazes found in +the center of the logs. Formed probably by resin in the wood, these +jewels are next hardest to diamonds and have been much prized. One +famous jeweler even had numberless logs blown to splinters with +explosives in order to secure the gems. + +The wood is very little softer than diamond, and polishes beautifully +for jewelry, book-ends, and table tops. The ranger warned us against +taking any samples from the Reserve. + +We could have spent days wandering around among the fallen giants, each +one disclosing new beauties in color and formation; but we finally left, +reluctantly, each determined to come back again. + +It was quite dark when we reached the Canyon, and I was glad to creep +into bed. My kitten snuggled down close to the pillow and sang sleepy +songs, but I couldn't seem to get to sleep. Only cheesecloth nailed over +the windows stood between me and all sorts of animals I imagined prowled +the surrounding forest. The cheesecloth couldn't keep the noises out, +and the cry that I heard might just as well have been the killing scream +of a cougar as a bed-time story of a tree frog. It made my heart beat +just as fast. And although the rangers declared I never heard more than +one coyote at a time, I knew that at least twenty howling voices swelled +the chorus. + +While I was trying to persuade myself that the noise I heard was just a +pack rat, a puffing, blowing sound at the window took me tremblingly out +to investigate. I knew some ferocious animal was about to devour me! But +my precious flowers were the attraction. A great, gaunt cow had taken +the last delectable bite from my pansy bed and was sticking out a greedy +tongue to lap in the snapdragons. Throwing on my bathrobe, I grabbed the +broom and attacked the invader. I whacked it fore and aft! I played a +tune on its lank ribs! Taken completely by surprise, it hightailed +clumsily up through the pines, with me and my trusty broom lending +encouragement. When morning came, showing the havoc wrought on my +despoiled posies, I was ready to weep. + +Ranger Winess joined me on my way to breakfast. + +"Don't get far from Headquarters today," he said. "Dollar Mark Bull is +in here and he is a killer. I've been out on Tony after him, but he +charged us and Tony bolted before I could shoot. When I got Tony down to +brass tacks, Dollar Mark was hid." + +I felt my knees knocking together. + +"What's he look like?" I inquired, weakly. + +"Big red fellow, with wide horns and white face. Branded with a Dollar +Mark. He's at least twenty years old, and mean!" + +My midnight visitor! + +I sat down suddenly on a lumber pile. It was handy to have a lumber +pile, for I felt limp all over. I told the ranger about chasing the old +beast around with a broom. His eyes bulged out on stems. + +Frequent appearances of "Dollar Mark" kept me from my daily tramps +through the pines, and I spent more time on the Rim of the Canyon. + +Strangely, the great yawning chasm itself held no fascination for me. I +could appreciate its dizzy depths, its vastness, its marvelous color +effects, and its weird contours. I could feel the immensity of it, and +it repelled instead of attracted. I seemed to see its barrenness and +desolation, the cruel deception of its poisonous springs, and its +insurmountable walls. I could visualize its hapless victims wandering +frantically about, trying to find the way out of some blind coulee, +until, exhausted and thirst-crazed, they lay down to die under the +sun's pitiless glare. Many skeletons, half buried in sand, have been +found to tell of such tragedies. + +It was only in the evenings, after the sun had gone down, that I could +feel at ease with the Canyon. Then I loved to sit on the Rim and look +down on the one living spot far below, where, almost a century ago, the +Indians made their homes and raised their crops, watering the fields +from the clear, cold spring that gushes out of the hillside. As the +light faded, the soft mellow moon would swim into view, shrouding with +tender light the stark, grim boulders. From the plateau, lost in the +shadows, the harsh bray of wild burros, softened by distance, floated +upward. + +On a clear day I could see objects on the North Rim, thirteen miles +away, and with a pair of strong field glasses I could bring the scene +quite close. It looked like a fairyland over there, and I wanted to +cross over and see what it was really like. White Mountain advanced the +theory that if we were married we could go over there for our honeymoon! +I had to give the matter careful consideration; but while I considered, +the moon came up, and behind us in the Music Room someone began to play +softly Schubert's "Serenade." I said, "All right. Next year we'll go!" + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter III: "I DO!"_ + + +The Washington Office decided, by this time, that I was really going to +stay, so they sent another girl out to work with me. The poor +Superintendent was speechless! But his agony was short-lived. Another +superintendent was sent to relieve him, which was also a relief to me! + +My new girl was from Alabama and had never been west of that state. She +was more of a tenderfoot than I, if possible. At first she insisted one +had to have a bathtub or else be just "pore white trash," but in time +she learned to bathe quite luxuriously in a three-pint basin. It took +longer for her to master the art of lighting a kerosene lamp, and it was +quite a while before she was expert enough to dodge the splinters in the +rough pine floor. I felt like a seasoned sourdough beside her! + +We "ditched" the big cookstove, made the back room into sleeping +quarters, and turned our front room into a sort of clubhouse. White +Mountain gave us a wonderful phonograph and plenty of records. If one is +inclined to belittle canned music, it is a good plan to live for a +while where the only melody one hears is a wailing coyote or the wind +moaning among the pines. + +We kept getting new records. The rangers dropped in every evening with +offerings. Ranger Winess brought us love songs. He doted on John +McCormack's ballads, and I secretly applauded his choice. Of course I +had to praise the Harry Lauder selections that Ranger Fisk toted in. +White Mountain favored Elman and Kreisler. The violin held him +spellbound. But when Pat came we all suffered through an evening of +Grand Opera spelled with capital letters! + +Nobody knew much about "Pat." He was a gentleman without doubt. He was +educated and cultured, he was witty and traveled. His game of bridge was +faultless and his discussion of art or music authentic. He was ready to +discuss anything and everything, except himself. + +In making up personnel records I asked him to fill out a blank. He gave +his name and age. "Education" was followed by "A.B." and "M.A." Nearest +relative: "None." In case of injury or death notify--"_Nobody._" That +was all. Somewhere he had a family that stood for something in the +world, but where? He was a striking person, with his snow-white hair, +bright blue eyes, and erect, soldier-like bearing. White Mountain and +Ranger Winess had known him in Yellowstone; Ranger Fisk had seen him in +Rainier; Ranger West had met him at Glacier. He taught me the game of +cribbage, and the old game of gold-rush days--solo. + +One morning Pat came to my cabin and handed me a book. Without speaking +he turned and walked away. Inside the volume I found a note: "I am +going away. This is my favorite book. I want you to have it and keep +it." The title of the book was _Story of an African Farm_. None of us +ever saw Pat again. + +The yearly rains began to come daily, each with more force and water +than the preceding one. Lightning flashed like bombs exploding, and +thunder roared and reverberated back and forth from Rim to Rim of the +Canyon. We sank above our shoes in mud every time we left the cabin. The +days were disagreeable, but the evenings were spent in the cabin, Ranger +Winess with his guitar and the other boys singing while we girls made +fudge or sea-foam. Such quantities of candy as that bunch could consume! +The sugar was paid for from the proceeds of a Put-and-Take game that +kept us entertained. + +We had a girl friend, Virginia, from Washington as a guest, and she fell +in love with Arizona. Also with Ranger Winess. It was about arranged +that she would remain permanently, but one unlucky day he took her down +Bright Angel Trail. He provided her with a tall lank mule, "By Gosh," to +ride, and she had never been aboard an animal before. Every time By Gosh +flopped an ear she thought he was trying to slap her in the face. On a +steep part of the trail a hornet stung the mule, and he began to buck +and kick. + +I asked Virginia what she did then. + +"I didn't do anything. By Gosh was doing enough for both of us," she +said. Ranger Winess said, however, that she turned her mule's head in +toward the bank and whacked him with the stick she carried. Which was +the logical thing to do. Unfortunately Ranger Winess teased her a +little about the incident, and a slight coolness arose. Just to show how +little she cared for his company, Virginia left our party and strolled +up to the Rim to observe the effect of moonlight on the mist that filled +it. + +Our game of Put-and-Take was running along merrily when we heard a +shriek, then another. We rushed out, and there was Dollar Mark Bull +chasing Virginia around and around among the big pine trees while she +yelled like a calliope. Seeing the door open she knocked a few of us +over in her hurry to get inside. Then she bravely slammed the door and +stood against it! Fortunately, Dollar Mark retreated and no lives were +lost. + +The rangers departed, we soothed Virginia, now determined not to remain +permanently, and settled down for the night. Everything quiet and +peaceful, thank goodness! + +Alas! The most piercing shrieks I ever heard brought me upright in bed +with every hair standing on end. It was morning. I looked at Virginia's +bed. I could see her quite distinctly, parts of her at least. Her head +was buried, ostrich-wise, in the blankets, while her feet beat a wild +tattoo in the air. Stell woke up and joined the chorus. The cause of it +all was a bewildered Navajo buck who stood mutely in the doorway, +staring at the havoc he had created. At arm's length he tendered a pair +of moccasins for sale. It was the first Reservation Indian in native +dress, or rather undress, the girls had seen, and they truly expected to +be scalped. + +It never occurs to an Indian to knock at a door, nor does the question +of propriety enter into his calculations when he has an object in view. + +I told him to leave, and he went out. An hour later, however, when we +went to breakfast, he was squatted outside my door waiting for us to +appear. He had silver bracelets and rings beaten out of Mexican coins +and studded with native turquoise and desert rubies. We each bought +something. I bought because I liked his wares, and the other girls +purchased as a sort of thank-offering for mercies received. + +The bracelets were set with the brilliant rubies found by the Indians in +the desert. It is said that ants excavating far beneath the surface +bring these semi-precious stones to the top. Others contend that they +are not found underneath the ground but are brought by the ants from +somewhere near the nest because their glitter attracts the ant. True or +false, the story results in every anthill being carefully searched. + +Virginia's visit was drawing to a close, and White Mountain and I +decided to announce our engagement while she was still with us. We gave +a dinner at El Tovar, with the rangers and our closest friends present. +At the same party another ranger announced his engagement and so the +dinner was a hilarious affair. + +One of the oldest rangers there, and one notoriously shy with women, +made me the object of a general laugh. He raised his glass solemnly and +said: "Well, here's wishin' you joy, but I jest want to say this: ef +you'd a played yo' cyards a little bit different, you wouldn't 'a had to +take White Mountain." + +Before the dinner was over a call came from the public camp ground for +aid. Our party broke up, and we girls went to the assistance of a +fourteen-year-old mother whose baby was ill. Bad food and ignorance had +been too much for the little nameless fellow, and he died about +midnight. There was a terrible electric storm raging, and rain poured +down through the old tent where the baby died. + +Ranger Winess carried the little body down to our house and we took the +mother and followed. We put him in a dresser drawer and set to work to +make clothes to bury him in. Ranger Fisk and Ranger Winess made the tiny +casket, and we rummaged through our trunks for materials. A sheer dimity +frock of mine that had figured in happier scenes made the shroud, and +Virginia gave a silken scarf to line the coffin. Ranger Winess tacked +muslin over the rough boards so it would look nicer to the young mother. +There were enough of my flowers left by Dollar Mark to make a wreath, +and that afternoon a piteous procession wended its way to the cemetery. +And such a cemetery! Near the edge of the Canyon, a mile or so from +Headquarters it lay, a bleak neglected spot in a sagebrush flat with +nothing to mark the cattle-tramped graves, of which there were four. At +the edge of the clearing, under a little pine, was the open grave, and +while the coffin was lowered the men sang. I never heard a more lonesome +sound than those men singing there over that little grave. White +Mountain read the burial service. + +We took the mother back to our cabin while the grave was being filled +in. I used to see her walking out there each morning with a few wild +flowers to put on the mound. Ranger Winess managed to ride that way and +keep her in sight until she returned to the camp ground. While the blue +lupine blossomed she kept the mound covered with the fragrant flowers. + +Ranger Fisk had a vacation about this time, and he insisted White +Mountain and I should get married while he could act as best man. So we +journeyed to Flagstaff with him and were married. It seemed more like a +wedding in a play than anything else. Ranger Fisk was burdened with the +responsibility of the wedding-ring, license, minister's fee, and flowers +for the occasion. He herded us into the clerk's office to secure the +necessary papers, and the girl clerk that issued them was a stickler for +form. We gave our names, our parents' names, our ages, birth-places, and +previous states of servitude. I was getting ready to show her my +vaccination scar, when she turned coldly critical eyes on me and asked: +"Are you white?" This for a Virginian to answer was quite a blow. + +We went to the minister's house, and since two witnesses were necessary, +the wife was called in from her washing. She came into the parlor drying +her hands on her apron, which she discarded by rolling up and tossing +into a chair. Ranger Fisk produced the ring, with a flourish, at the +proper moment, gave the minister his money, after all the "I do's" had +been said, and the wedding was over. So we were married. No wedding +march, no flower girls, no veil, no rice, no wedding breakfast. Just a +solemn promise to respect each other and be faithful. Perhaps the +promise meant just a little more to us because it was not smothered in +pomp. + +For a wedding-trip we visited the cliff dwellings in Walnut Canyon. +Here, hundreds of years ago, other newly married couples had set up +housekeeping and built their dreams into the walls that still tell the +world that we are but newcomers on this hemisphere. + +The news of our marriage reached the Canyon ahead of us, and we found +our little cabin filled with our friends and their gifts. They spent a +merry evening with us and as we bade them goodnight we felt that such +friendship was beyond price indeed. + +But after midnight! The great open spaces were literally filled with a +most terrifying and ungodly racket. I heard shrieks and shots, and tin +pans banging. Horrors! The cook was on another vanilla-extract +jamboree!! But--drums boomed and bugles blared. Ah, of course! The +Indians were on the warpath; I never entirely trusted those red devils. +I looked around for a means of defense, but the Chief told me not to be +alarmed--it was merely a "shivaree." + +"Now, what might that be?" I inquired. I supposed he meant at least a +banshee, or at the very least an Irish wake! It was, however, nothing +more or less than our friends serenading us. They came inside, thirty +strong; the walls of the cabin fairly bulged. They played all sorts of +tricks on us, and just as they left someone dropped a handful of sulphur +on top of the stove. Naturally, we went outside with our visitors to +wish them "godspeed!" + +"I'll never get married again; at least not in the land of the +shivaree," I told White Mountain as we tried to repair the damage. + +I guess we were let off easy, for when our ranger friend returned with +his bride they suffered a much worse fate. The groom was locked for +hours in the old bear cage on the Rim, and his wife was loaded into a +wheelbarrow and rolled back and forth across the railroad tracks until +the Chief called a halt to that. He felt the treatment was a little too +severe even for people in love. + +Since I could not go to live in the bachelor ranger quarters, White +Mountain moved into my cabin until our house could be completed. A tent +house was built for Stell in the back yard of our cabin. She was afraid +to live alone, and used to wake us at all hours of the night. Once she +came bursting into our cabin, hysterical with fright. A bunch of coyotes +had been racing around and around her tent trying to get into the +garbage can. They yelped and barked, and, finally, as she sobbed and +tried to explain, "They sat down in my door and laughed like crazy +people." She finished the night on our spare cot, for anybody that +thinks coyotes can't act like demons had better spend a night in Arizona +and listen to them perform. + +Stell wasn't a coward by any means. She was right there when real +courage was needed. A broken leg to set or a corpse to bathe and dress +were just chores that needed to be done, and she did her share of both. +But seven thousand feet altitude for months at a time will draw a +woman's nerves tauter than violin strings. I remember, one morning, +Stell and I came home in the dawn after an all-night vigil with a dying +woman. We were both nearly asleep as we stumbled along through the +pines, but not too far gone to see Dollar Mark come charging at us. We +had stopped at the cookhouse and begged a pot of hot coffee to take to +our cabins. Stell was carrying it, and she stood her ground until the +mean old bull was within a few feet of her. Then she dashed the +boiling-hot coffee full in his gleaming red eyes, and while he snorted +and bellowed with pain we shinnied up a juniper tree and hung there like +some of our ancestors until the road crew came along and drove him away. +We were pretty mad, and made a few sarcastic remarks about a ranger +force that couldn't even "shoot the bull." We requested the loan of a +gun, if necessary! Ranger Winess took our conversation to heart, and +next morning hung a notice in Headquarters which "Regretted to report +that Dollar Mark Bull accidentally fell over the Rim into the Canyon and +was killed." In my heart I questioned both the "regret" and the +"accidental" part of the report, and in order to still any remorse that +the ranger might feel I baked him the best lemon pie I had in my +repertoire! + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter IV: CELEBRITIES AND SQUIRRELS_ + + +Soon after our wedding the Chief crossed to the North Rim to meet a +party of celebrities, which included his old friend Emerson Hough. This +was to have been our honeymoon trip, but I was left at home! The new +Superintendent needed me in the office; therefore White Mountain spent +our honeymoon trip alone. I had heard of such a thing, but never +expected it to happen to me. I might have felt terribly cut up about it +but on the South Rim we were fermenting with excitement getting ready to +entertain important guests. + +General Diaz of Italy and his staff were coming, soon to be followed by +Marshal Foch with his retinue. And in the meantime Tom Mix and Eva Novak +had arrived with beautiful horses and swaggering cowboys to make a +picture in the Canyon. What was a mere honeymoon compared to such +luminaries? + +Tom and Eva spent three weeks making the picture, and we enjoyed every +minute they were there. Ranger Winess was assigned to duty with them, +and when they left the Canyon he found himself with the offer of a +movie contract. Tom liked the way the ranger handled his horse and his +rifle, and Tom's wife liked the sound of his guitar. So we lost Ranger +Winess. He went away to Hollywood, and we all went around practicing: +"I-knew-him-when" phrases. But Hollywood wasn't Grand Canyon, and there +wasn't a horse there, not even Tom's celebrated Tony, that had half as +much brains as his own bay Tony of the ranger horses. So Winess came +back to us, and everybody was happy again. + +While the picture was being made, some of the company found a burro +mother with a broken leg, and Ranger Winess mercifully ended her +suffering. A tiny baby burro playing around the mother they took to camp +and adopted at once. He was so comical with his big velvet ears and wise +expression. Not bigger than a shepherd dog, the men could pick him up +and carry him around the place. Tom took him to Mixville and the movie +people taught him to drink out of a bottle, so he is well on the road to +stardom. Ranger Winess, visiting in New Jersey a couple of years later, +dropped into a theater where Tom Mix was in a vaudeville act. Mix spied +the ranger, and when the act was over he stepped to the edge of the +stage and sang out: "Hey, Winess, I still got that burro!" + +A dummy that had been used in the picture was left lying quite a +distance up the side of a mountain, but quite visible from their movie +camp. Tom bet his Director, Lynn Reynolds, twenty-five dollars that the +dummy was six feet tall. He knew quite well that it was _not_ six feet +tall, and knew that Reynolds knew so too. But the bet was on. A guide +going to the top, was bribed by a ten-dollar bill from Tom, to stretch +the dummy out to the required length. This guide went up the trail a few +hours before Tom and Reynolds were due to measure the dummy. Imagine +their feelings when they arrived, and found the money and this note +pinned to the object of dispute: + + + "Mr. Tom Mix, deer sir. I streetched the dam thing till it busted. + It hain't no higher than me, and I hain't six feet. You'll plees + find herein yore money. + + Youers truly, + SHORTY." + + +It is said that Reynolds collected in full and then hunted Shorty up and +bestowed the twenty-five dollars on him. + +White Mountain returned from the North Rim full of his trip. He, +together with Director Mather and Emerson Hough, had been all through +the wonderful Southern Utah country, including Bryce Canyon and Zion +National Park. Mr. Hough had just sold his masterpiece, _The Covered +Wagon_, to the _Saturday Evening Post_, and was planning to write a +Canyon story. He told White Mountain he felt that he was not big enough +to write such a story but intended to try. His title was to be "The +Scornful Valley." Before he could come to the Canyon again, he died on +the operating table. + +Preparations were made for the visit of General Diaz, who came about +Thanksgiving time. A great deal of pomp and glory surrounded his every +movement. He and White Mountain were alone for a moment on one of the +points overlooking the Canyon, and the General, looking intently into +the big gorge, said to the Chief: "When I was a small boy I read a book +about some people that stole some cattle and hid away in the Canyon. I +wonder if it could have been near here?" White Mountain was able to +point out a place in the distance that had been a crossing place for +cattle in the early days, which pleased the soldier greatly. + +Hopi Joe and his Indian dancers gave an unusually fine exhibition of +their tribal dances for the visitors. The General expressed his +appreciation quite warmly to Joe after the dance ended, and asked Joe to +pose with him for a picture. He was recalling other boyhood reading he +had done, and his interest in the Indians was quite naive. Joe took him +into the Hopi House and they spent an hour or so going over the +exhibition of Indian trophies there. + +After dinner, the General retired to his private car to rest, but the +staff remained at the hotel and we danced until well after midnight. The +General's own band furnished the music. There were no women in the +visitor's party, but there was no lack of partners for the handsome, +charming officers. That few of them spoke English and none of us +understood Italian made no difference. Smiles and flirtatious glances +speak a universal language, and many a wife kept her wedding-ring out of +the lime-light. + +While we all enjoyed the visit of this famous man, we took a personal +interest in Marshal Foch. And I'm not sure that General Diaz would have +been entirely pleased could he have seen the extra special arrangements +that were made to welcome Marshal Foch a few days later. Every ranger +was called in from outlying posts; uniforms were pressed, boots shined, +and horses groomed beyond recognition. Some of the rangers had served in +France, and one tall lanky son of Tennessee had won the Croix de Guerre. +To his great disgust and embarrassment, he was ordered to wear this +decoration. When the special train rolled in, the rangers were lined up +beside the track. The gallant old warrior stepped down from his car and +walked along the line. His eye rested on that medal. He rushed up and +fingered it lovingly "Croix de Guerre! Oui, oui, Croix de Guerre!" he +kept repeating, as delighted as a child would be at the sight of a +beloved toy. The ranger's face was a study. I believe he expected to be +kissed on both cheeks, as he probably had been when the medal was +originally bestowed upon him. + +White Mountain was presented to the Marshal as "Le Chieftain de le +Rangeurs," and, as he said later, had a handshake and listened to a few +words in French from the greatest general in history! + +The Marshal was the least imposing member of his staff. Small, +unassuming, and even frail, he gave the impression of being infinitely +weary of the world and its fighting, its falseness, and its empty pomp. +He spoke practically no English, but when a tiny Indian maid crept near +in her quaint velvet jacket and little full skirts, he extended a hand +and said quite brokenly: "How are you, Little One?" In fact he spoke +very little even in his own language. + +Several hours were consumed in viewing the Canyon and at lunch. Then he +was taken out to Hermit's Rest and sat in front of the great fireplace +for an hour, just resting and gazing silently into the glowing embers. +All the while he stroked the big yellow cat that had come and jumped +upon his knee as soon as he was settled. Then he walked down the trail a +little way, refusing to ride the mule provided for him. When it was +explained that his photograph on the mule was desired, he gravely bowed +and climbed aboard the animal. + +Our new Superintendent, Colonel John R. White, had been in France and +spoke French fluently. He hung breathlessly on the words of the Marshal +when he turned to him after a long scrutiny of the depths below. "Now," +thought Colonel White, "I shall hear something worthy of passing along +to my children and grandchildren." + +"What a beautiful place to drop one's mother-in-law!" observed the +Marshal in French. Later he remarked that the Canyon would make a +wonderful border line between Germany and France! + +Hopi Joe gave his tribal dances around a fire built in the plaza. After +the dance was over, the Marshal asked for an encore on the War Dance. +Joe gave a very realistic performance that time. Once he came quite near +the foreign warrior, brandishing his tomahawk and chanting. A pompous +newspaper man decided to be a hero and pushed in between Joe and Marshal +Foch. The General gave the self-appointed protector one look, and he was +edged outside the circle and told to stay there, while Joe went on with +his dance. + +A marvelous Navajo rug was presented to the visitor by Father Vabre, +with the information that it was a gift from the Indians to their friend +from over the sea. He was reminded that when the call came for +volunteers many thousands of Arizona Indians left their desert home and +went across the sea to fight for a government that had never recognized +them as worthy to be its citizens. + +The General's face lighted up as he accepted the gift, and he replied +that he would carry the rug with him and lay it before his own +hearthstone, and that he would tell his children its story so that after +he had gone on they would cherish it as he had and never part with it. +One likes to think that perhaps during his last days on earth his eyes +fell on this bright rug, reminding him that in faraway Arizona his +friends were thinking of him and hoping for his recovery. + +A wildcat presented by an admirer was voted too energetic a gift to +struggle with, so it was left in the bear cage on the Rim. Somebody +turned it out and it committed suicide by leaping into the Canyon. + +A raw cold wind, such as can blow only at the Canyon, swept around the +train as it carried Marshal Foch away. That wind brought tragedy and +sorrow to us there at El Tovar, for, exposed to its cold blast, Mr. +Brant, the hotel manager, contracted pneumonia. Travelers from all parts +of the world knew and loved this genial and kindly gentleman. He had +welcomed guests to El Tovar from the day its portals were first opened +to tourists. Marshal Foch was the last guest he welcomed or waved to in +farewell, for when the next day dawned he was fighting for life and in a +few days he was gone. + +He had loved the Canyon with almost a fanatic's devotion, and although +Captain Hance had not been buried on its Rim as had been his deep +desire, Mr. Brant's grave was located not far from the El Tovar, +overlooking the Great Chasm. The tomb had to be blasted from solid rock. +All night long the dull rumble of explosives told me that the rangers, +led by the wearer of the Croix de Guerre, were toiling away. The first +snow of the season was falling when the funeral cortege started for the +grave. White Mountain and other friends were pall-bearers, and twenty +cowboys on black horses followed the casket. Father Vabre read the +burial service, and George Wharton James spoke briefly of the friendship +which had bound them together for many years. Since that time both the +good priest and the famous author have passed on. + +Mr. Brant had an Airedale dog that was his constant companion. For days +after his death this dog would get his master's hat and stick and search +all over the hotel for him. He thought it was time for their daily walk. +When the dog died they buried him near his master's grave. This had been +Mr. Brant's request. + +The snow grew deeper and the mercury continued to go down, until it was +almost impossible to spend much time outside. But the little iron stove +stuffed full of pine wood kept the cabin fairly warm, and the birds and +squirrels learned to stay close to the stovepipe on the roof. + +The squirrels would come to the cabin windows and pat against them with +their tiny paws. They were begging for something to eat, and if a door +or window were left open a minute it was good-by to anything found on +the table. Bread, cake, or even fruit was a temptation not to be +resisted. One would grab the prize and dart up the trunk of a big pine +tree with the whole tribe hot-footing it right after him. One bold +fellow waylaid me one morning when I opened the door, and bounced up on +the step and into the kitchen. I shoved him off the cabinet, and he +jumped on top of the stove. That wasn't hot enough to burn him but +enough to make him good and mad, so he scrambled to my shoulder, ran +down my arm, and sank his teeth in my hand. Then he ran up to the top of +the shelves and sat there chattering and scolding until the Chief came +home and gave him the bum's rush. This same fellow bit the Chief, too; +but I always felt _he_ had it coming to him. White Mountain had a glass +jar of pinon nuts, and he would hold them while the squirrels came and +packed their jaws full. They looked too comical with their faces puffed +up like little boys with mumps. When "Bunty" came for his share, the +Chief placed his hand tightly over the top, just to tease him. He wanted +to see what would happen. He found out. Bunty ran his paws over the +slick surface of the jar two or three times, but couldn't find any way +to reach the tempting nuts. He stopped and thought about the situation a +while, then it seemed to dawn on him that he was the victim of a +practical joke. All at once he jumped on the Chief's hand, buried his +teeth in his thumb, then hopped to a lumber pile and waited for +developments. He got the nuts, jar and all, right at his head. He +side-stepped the assault and gloated over his store of pinons the rest +of the afternoon. + +It had been an off year for pinons, so boxes were put up in sheltered +nooks around the park and the rangers always put food into them while +making patrols. I carried my pockets full of peanuts while riding the +trails, and miles from Headquarters the squirrels learned to watch for +me. I learned to look out for them also, after one had dropped from an +overhanging bough to the flank of a sensitive horse I was riding. The +Fred Harvey boys purchased a hundred pounds of peanuts for the little +fellows, and the animals also learned to beg from tourists. All a +squirrel had to do in order to keep well stuffed was to sit up in the +middle of the road and look cunning. + +One day a severe cold kept me in bed. Three or four of the little +rascals found an entrance and came pell-mell into the house. One located +a cookie and the others chased him into my room with it. For half an +hour they fought and raced back and fourth over my bed while I kept +safely hidden under the covers, head and all. During a lull I took a +cautious look around. There they sat, lined up like schoolboys, on the +dresser, trying to get at the impudent squirrels in the glass! Failing +in that, they investigated the bottles and boxes. They didn't care much +for the smell of camphor, but one poke-nosey fellow put his nose in the +powder jar and puffed; when he backed away, he looked like a merry old +Santa Claus, his whiskers white with powder and his black eyes +twinkling. + +Once the Chief gave them some Eastern chestnuts and black walnuts. They +were bewildered. They rolled them over and over in their paws and +sniffed at them, but made no effort to cut into the meat. We watched to +see what they would do, and they took those funny nuts out under the +trees and buried them good and deep. Maybe they thought time would +mellow them. + +But the worst thing those little devils did to me happened later. I had +cooked dinner for some of the powers-that-be from Washington, and for +dessert I made three most wonderful lemon pies. They were dreams! Each +one sported fluffy meringue not less than three inches thick (and eggs +eighty cents a dozen). They were cooling on a shelf outside the door. +Along comes greedy Mr. Bunty looking for something to devour. + +"You go away. I'm looking for real company and can't be bothered with +you!" I told him, and made a threatening motion with the broom. + +He went--right into the first pie, and from that to the middle one; of +course he couldn't slight the third and last one, so he wallowed across +it. Then the horrid beast climbed a tree in front of my window. He +cleaned, and polished, and lapped meringue off his gray squirrel coat, +while I wiped tears and thought up a suitable epitaph for him. A dirty +Supai squaw enjoyed the pies. She and her assorted babies ate them, +smacking and gabbling over them just as if they hadn't been bathed in by +a wild animal. + + + + +[Illustration]. + +_Chapter V: NAVAJO LAND_ + + +Indians! Navajos! How many wide-eyed childhood hours had I spent +listening to stories of these ferocious warriors! And yet, here they +were as tame as you please, walking by my door and holding out their +native wares to sell. + +From the first instant my eyes rested upon a Navajo rug, I was +fascinated by the gaudy thing. The more I saw, the more they appealed to +the gypsy streak in my makeup. Each Navajo buck that came to my door +peddling his rugs and silver ornaments was led into the house and +questioned. Precious little information I was able to abstract at first +from my saturnine visitors. As we became better acquainted, and they +learned to expect liberal draughts of coffee sweetened into a syrup, +sometimes their tongues loosened; but still I couldn't get all the +information I craved regarding those marvelous rugs and how they were +made. + +Finally the Chief decided to spend his vacation by taking me on a trip +out into the Painted Desert, the home of this nomadic tribe. We chose +the early days of summer after the spring rains had brought relief to +the parched earth and replenished the water holes where we expected to +camp each night. Another reason was that a great number of the tribal +dances would be in full swing at this time. Old "Smolley," an antique +"navvy," had just disposed of a supply of rugs and was wending his way +homeward at the same time. Not choosing to travel in solitude, he firmly +fastened himself to our caravan. I would have preferred his absence, for +he was a vile, smelly old creature with bleary eyes and coarse uncombed +gray hair tied into a club and with a red band around his head. His +clothes were mostly a pair of cast-off overalls, which had not been +discarded by the original owner until he was in danger of arrest for +indecent exposure. Incessant wear night and day by Smolley had not +improved their looks. But Smolley knew that I never could see him hungry +while we ate; consequently he stuck closer than a brother. Our +hospitality was well repaid later, for he took care that we saw the +things we wanted to see in Navajo Land. + +The first day we rode through magnificent groves of stately yellow pines +which extended from Grand Canyon out past Grand View and the picturesque +old stage tavern there which is the property of Mr. W. R. Hearst. Quite +a distance beyond there we stopped for lunch on a little knoll covered +with prehistoric ruins. I asked Smolley what had become of the people +who had built the homes lying at our feet. He grunted a few times and +said that they were driven out on a big rock by their enemies and then +the god caused the rock to fly away with them somewhere else. +Interesting, if true. I decided that my guess was as good as his, so let +the subject drop. It must have been a long time ago, for there were +juniper trees growing from the middle of these ruins that the Chief said +were almost three thousand years old. (He had sawed one down not much +larger than these, polished the trunk and counted the annual rings with +a magnifying-glass, and found it to be well over that age.) Among the +rocks and debris, we found fragments of pottery painted not unlike the +present Zuni ware, and other pieces of the typical basket pottery +showing the marks of woven vessels inside of which they had been +plastered thousands of years ago. I fell to dreaming of those vanished +people, the hands that had shaped this clay long since turned to dust +themselves. What had their owner thought of, hoped, or planned while +fashioning this bowl, fragments of which I turned over in my palms aeons +later? But the lunch-stop ended, and we moved on. + +That night we camped at Desert View and with the first streak of dawn we +prepared to leave the beaten path and follow a trail few tourists +attempt. When we reached the Little Colorado, we followed Smolley +implicitly as we forded the stream. "Chollo," our pack mule, became +temperamental halfway across and bucked the rest of the way. I held my +breath, expecting to see our cargo fly to the four winds; but the Chief +had not packed notional mules for years in vain. A few pans rattled, and +later I discovered that my hair brush was well smeared with jam. No +other damage was done. + +All day long we rode through the blazing sun. I kept my eyes shut as +much as possible, for the sun was so glaring that it sent sharp pains +through my head. In front the Chief rode placidly on. Outside of turning +him into a beautiful brick red, the sun seemingly did not affect him. +Smolley was dozing. But I was in agony with thirst and heat and +weariness. My horse, a gift from the Chief which I had not been wise +enough to try out on a short journey before undertaking such a trip, was +as stiff as a wooden horse. I told the Chief I knew Mescal was +knock-kneed and stiff-legged. + +"Oh, no," was the casual reply, "he's a little stiff in the shoulders +from his fall." + +"What fall?" + +"Why, I loaned him to one of the rangers last week and he took him down +the Hermit Trail and Mescal fell overboard." + +"Is he subject to vertigo?" I wanted to know. I had heard we should have +steep trails to travel on this trip. + +"No; the ranger loaded him with two water kegs, and when Mescal got +excited on a steep switchback the ranger lost his head and drove him +over the edge. He fell twenty feet and was knocked senseless. It took +two hours to get him out again." + +"Some ranger," was my heated comment; "who was it?" + +"No matter," said the Chief. "He isn't a ranger any more." The Chief +said Mescal did not suffer any from the stiffness, but I'll admit that I +suffered both mentally and physically. Anyway I had that to worry about +and it took my mind off the intolerable heat. + +Almost before we knew it a storm gathered and broke directly over our +heads. There was no shelter, so we just kept riding. I had visions of +pneumonia and sore throat and maybe rheumatism. In fact I began to feel +twinges of rheumatics, but the Chief scoffed. He said I should have had +a twelve-inch saddle instead of a fourteen and if I wasn't so dead set +on a McClellan instead of a Western Stock I would be more comfortable. +He draped a mackinaw around me and left me to my fate. I wasn't scared +by the storm, but Mescal was positively unnerved. He trembled and +cringed at every crash. I had always enjoyed electrical storms, but I +never experienced one quite so personal before. Cartwheels and +skyrockets exploded under my very nose and blue flame wrapped all around +us. The Chief had gone on in search of the pack mule, and I was alone +with Smolley. Through a lull in the storm I caught a glimpse of him. He +slouched stolidly in the saddle as unconcernedly as he had slouched in +the broiling heat. In fact I think he was still dozing. + +As suddenly as the storm had come it was gone, and we could see it ahead +of us beating and lashing the hot sands. Clouds of earthy steam rose +enveloping us, but as these cleared away the air was as cool and pure +and sweet as in a New England orchard in May. On a bush by the trail a +tiny wren appeared and burst into song like a vivacious firecracker. +Rock squirrels darted here and there, and tiny cactus flowers opened +their sleepy eyes and poured out fragrance. And then, by and by, it was +evening and we were truly in Navajo Land. + +We made our camp by a water hole replenished by the recent rain. While +the Chief hobbled the horses I drank my fill of the warm, brackish water +and lay back on the saddles to rest. The Chief came into camp and put a +can of water on the fire to boil. When it boiled he said, "Do you want a +drink of this hot water or can you wait until it cools?" + +"Oh, I had a good drink while you were gone," I answered drowsily. + +"Where did you get it? The canteens were dry." + +"Why, out of the waterhole, of course"; I was impatient that he could be +so stupid. + +"You did? Well, unless God holds you in the palm of his hand you will be +good and sick. That water is full of germs. To say nothing of a dead cow +or two. I thought you had better sense than to drink water from holes in +the ground." I rose up and took another look at the oasis. Sure enough, +horns and a hoof protruded from one end of the mudhole. I sank back +weakly and wondered why I had ever thought I wanted to visit the +Navajos. I hoped my loved ones back in the Virginias would not know how +I died. It sounded too unromantic to say one passed out from drinking +dead cow! I might as well say here that evidently I was held firmly by +the Deity, for I felt no ill effects whatever. I couldn't eat any +supper, but I knew Smolley would soon blow in and it would not be +wasted. + +As dusk settled around us we could almost hear the silence. Here and +there a prairie owl would whirl low to the ground with a throaty chuckle +for a time, but that soon ceased. Across the fire I could see the dull +glow of the Chief's cigarette, but the air was so quiet that not the +faintest odor of tobacco drifted to me. While we lolled there, half +waking, half dreaming, Old Smolley stepped noiselessly into camp and at +a wave of the Chief's hand swiftly emptied the coffeepot and skillet. He +wiped his greasy mouth on his sleeve and said: "Sing-sing this night. +Three braves sick. Sing 'em well. You wanna see?" + +Did we! I was up and ready before his last word was out. We followed him +for ten minutes up a dry wash filled with bowlders and dry brush. I +stepped high and wide, fully expecting to be struck by a rattlesnake any +minute. I knew if I said anything the Chief would laugh at me, so I +stayed behind him and looked after my own safety. We reached a little +mesa at the head of the coulee and found Indians of all shapes and sizes +assembled there. Two or three huge campfires were crackling, and a pot +of mutton stewed over one of them. Several young braves were playing +cards, watched by a bevy of giggling native belles. The lads never +raised their eyes to the girls, but they were quite conscious of +feminine observation. + +Three men, grievously ill indeed, and probably made worse by the long +ride to the scene of the dance, were lying in a hogan built of +cottonwood branches. Outside, standing closely packed together, were the +Navajo bucks and the medicine men. When an Indian is sick he goes to the +doctor instead of sending for the doctor to visit him. And then +invitations are sent out all over the Reservation for the singers to +come and assist in the cure. The Navajos had responded loyally on this +occasion and were grouped according to location. One group would sing +the weird minor wail for half an hour and then another bunch would break +in for a few minutes, only to have still a third delegation snatch the +song away from them. So closely did they keep time and so smoothly did +one bunch take up where another left off that we, standing less than +twenty feet away, could not tell which group was singing except when the +Tuba City crowd took up the plaint. Their number was so small that they +couldn't get out much noise. The Indians had discarded their civilized +garb for the occasion and were clad mostly in atmosphere helped out with +a gee-string of calico. Some had streaks of white and black paint on +them. I fell to dreaming of what it would have meant to be captured by +such demons only a few years ago, and it wasn't long until I lost +interest in that scene. I was ready to retreat. We watched the medicine +men thump and bang the invalids with bunches of herbs and prayer sticks +a few minutes longer; then with Smolley as our guide we wandered over to +the Squaw Dance beside another bonfire, located at a decorous distance +from the improvised hospital hogan. + +The leading squaw, with a big bunch of feathers fastened to a stick, +advanced to the fire and made a few impressive gestures. She was garbed +in the wide, gathered calico skirt, the velvet basque trimmed with +silver buttons, and the high brown moccasins so dear to feminine +Navajos. The orchestra was vocal, the bucks again furnishing the music. +After circling around the spectators a few times the squaw decided on +the man she wanted and with one hand took a firm grasp of his shirt just +above the belt. Then she galloped backward around him while he was +dragged helplessly about with her, looking as sheepish as the mutton +simmering in the kettle. Other squaws picked partners and soon there +were numerous couples doing the silly prance. Silly it looked to us, but +I thought of a few of our civilized dances and immediately reversed my +opinion. + +The squaws occasionally prowled around among the spectators, keeping in +the shadows and seeking white men for partners. These, mostly cowboys +and trading-post managers, were wary, and only one was caught napping. +It cost him all the loose silver he had in his pocket to get rid of the +tiny fat squaw that had captured him. + +We were told that dances and races would continue for several days, and +so, firmly bidding good night to Smolley, we went back to camp and fell +asleep with the faint hubbub coming to us now and then. + +Almost before the Chief had breakfast started the next morning Smolley +stepped into the scene and took a prominent seat near the steaming +coffeepot. "You arrive early," I remarked. "Now how could you know that +breakfast was so near ready?" This last a trifle sarcastically, I fear. +"Huh, me, I sleep here," pointing to the side of a rock not ten feet +from my own downy bed. That settled me for keeps. I subsided and just +gazed with a fatal hypnotism at the flapjacks disappearing down his +ample gullet. It was fatal, for while I was spellbound the last one +disappeared and I had to make myself some more or go without breakfast. +When Smolley had stilled the first fierce pangs of starvation he pulled +a pair of moccasins out of the front of his dirty shirt and tossed them +to me. (The gesture had somewhat the appearance of tossing a bone to an +angry dog.) Anyway the dog was appeased. The moccasins had stiff rawhide +soles exactly shaped to fit my foot, and the uppers were soft brown +buckskin beautifully tanned. They reached well above the ankles and +fastened on the side with three fancy silver buttons made by a native +silversmith. A tiny turquoise was set in the top of each button. I +marveled at the way they fitted, until the Chief admitted that he had +given Smolley one of my boudoir slippers for a sample. Eventually the +other slipper went to a boot manufacturer and I became the possessor of +real hand-made cowboy boots. + +Breakfast disposed of, we mounted and went in search of a rug factory, +that being the initial excuse for the journey. A mile or two away we +found one in operation. The loom consisted of two small cottonwood trees +with cross-beams lashed to them, one at the top and the other at the +bottom. A warp frame with four lighter sticks forming a square was +fastened within the larger frame. The warp was drawn tight, with the +threads crossed halfway to the top. Different-colored yarns were wound +on a short stick, and with nimble fingers a squaw wove the pattern. +There was no visible pattern for her to follow. She had that all mapped +out in her brain, and followed it instinctively. I asked her to describe +the way the rug would look when finished, and she said, "No can tell. Me +know here," tapping her forehead. I liked the way the weaving was begun, +and so I squatted there in the sunshine for two hours trying to get her +to talk. Finally I gave her ten dollars for the rug when it should be +finished and little by little she began to tell me the things I wanted +to know. We made no real progress in our conversation until I learned +that she had been a student at Sherman Indian Institute for eight years. +When she found that I knew the school well and some of the teachers, a +look of discontent and unhappiness came over her face. She said that she +had been very, very happy at Sherman. With a wave of her slender brown +hand she said: "Look at this!" Her eyes rested with distaste on the +flock of sheep grazing near, turned to the mud-daubed hogan behind us, +and swept on across the cactus-studded desert. "They teach us to sleep +in soft, white beds and to bathe in tile bathtubs. We eat white cooking. +We cook on electric stoves. We are white for years, and then they send +us back to this! We sleep on the earth, we cook with sheep-dung fires; +we have not water even for drinking. We hate our own people, we hate our +children when they come!" I was so startled at the outburst. Her English +was faultless. I had enough sense to keep still, and she went on more +quietly: "When I left Sherman I hoped to marry a boy there who was +learning the printer's trade. Then we could have lived as your people +do. My father sold me for ten ponies and forty sheep. I am a squaw now. +I live as squaws did hundreds of years ago. And so I try to be just a +squaw. I hope to die soon." And there it was, just as she said. Turned +into a white girl for eight years, given a long glimpse of the Promised +Land, then pushed back into slavery. We saw lots of that. It seemed as +though the ones that were born and lived and died without leaving the +reservation were much happier. + +"What is your name?" I asked after we had been silent while her swift, +nervous fingers wove a red figure into a white background. "I'm Mollie, +Smolley's daughter." So the greedy old dog had sold his own child. That +is the usual thing, Mollie said. Girls are sold to the highest bidder, +but fortunately there is a saving clause. In case the girl dislikes her +husband too much she makes him so miserable he takes her back to her +father and they are divorced instantly. The father keeps the wedding +gifts and sells her again for more sheep and horses. The flocks really +belong to the women, but I can't see what good they do them. The women +tend them and shear them and even nurse them. They wash and dye and card +and weave the wool into rugs, and then their lordly masters take the +rugs and sell them. A part of the money is gambled away on pony races or +else beaten into silver jewelry to be turned into more money. A certain +number of rugs are turned in to the trading-post for groceries, calico, +and velvet. Navajos never set a table or serve a meal. They cook any +time there is anything to cook, and then when the grub is done, eat it +out of the pot with their fingers. They have no idea of saving anything +for the next meal. They gorge like dogs, and then starve perhaps for +days afterward. + +Mollie had two children, a slim, brown lad perhaps ten years old, who +was watching the sheep near by, and a tiny maid of three, sitting +silently by her mother. The boy seemed to have inherited some of his +mother's rebellion and discontent, but it appeared on his small face as +wistfulness. He was very shy, and when I offered him a silver coin he +made no move to take it. I closed his fingers around it, and he ran to +his mother with the treasure. As he passed me going back to his sheep, +he raised his great, sad black eyes and for a second his white teeth +flashed in a friendly grin. + +The men folks had wandered on to the races a mile away, and Mollie, the +babe, and I followed. There was no business of closing up house when we +left. She just put the bright wool out of the reach of pack rats and we +were ready. I admired her forethought, for only the night before I had +lost a cake of soap, one garter, and most of my hairpins. Of course the +rat was honest, for he had left a dried cactus leaf, a pine cone, and +various assorted sticks and straws in place of what he took. That's why +this particularly vexing rodent is called a "trade rat." I used to hear +that it takes two to make a bargain. That knowledge has not penetrated +into pack-ratdom. + +A few Hopi and Supai Indians were darting around on show ponies, spotted +and striped "Paints," as they call them. A Navajo lad came tearing down +upon us, riding a most beautiful sorrel mare. It seemed that he would +ride us down; but I never did run from an Indian, so I stood my ground. +With a blood-chilling war whoop he pulled the mare to her haunches and +laughed down at me. He was dressed as a white man would be and spoke +perfect English. He was just home from Sherman, he explained, and was +going to race his mare against the visitors. I took his picture on the +mare, and he told me where to send it to him after it was finished. "I +hope you win. I'm betting on you for Mollie," I told him and gave him +some money. He did win! Around the smooth hillside the ponies swept, and +when almost at the goal he leaned forward and whistled in the mare's +ear. She doubled up like a jackknife and when she unfolded she was a +nose ahead of them all. Every race ended the same way. He told me he won +two hundred silver dollars all told. I am wearing a bracelet now made +from one of them. Very seldom does one see a rattlesnake portrayed in +any Hopi or Navajo work, but I had my heart set on a rattlesnake +bracelet. Silversmith after silversmith turned me down flat, until at +last Mollie and the boy told me they would see that I got what I wanted. +A month later a strange Indian came to my house, handed me a package +with a grunt, and disappeared. It was my bracelet. I always wear it to +remind me of my visit to Navajo Land. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter VI: "THEY KILLED ME"_ + + +White Mountain and I walked out to the cemetery one evening at sunset, +and I asked him to tell me about the four sleeping there. One trampled +grave, without a marker, was the resting-place of a forest ranger who +had died during the flu epidemic. At that time no body could be shipped +except in a metal casket, and since it had been impossible to secure one +he was buried far from his home and people. The mother wrote she would +come and visit the grave as soon as she had enough money, but death took +her too and she was spared seeing his neglected grave. + +The Chief stood looking down at the third grave, which still held the +weather-beaten debris of funeral wreaths. + +"Cap Hance is buried here," he said. "He was a dear friend of mine." + +From his tone I scented a story, and as we strolled back to Headquarters +he told me something of the quaint old character. In the days that +followed, I heard his name often. Travelers who had not been at the +Canyon for several years invariably inquired for "Cap" as soon as they +arrived. I always felt a sense of personal shame when I heard a ranger +directing them to his grave. He had begged with his last breath to be +buried in the Canyon, or else on the Rim overlooking it. "God willing, +and man aiding," as he always said. However, his wish had been ignored, +for the regular cemetery is some distance from the Rim. + +This Captain John Hance was the first settler on the Rim of the Grand +Canyon. The Hance Place is located about three miles east of Grand View +Point. Here he built the old Hance Trail into the Canyon, and discovered +numerous copper and asbestos mines. Many notables of the early days +first saw the Canyon from his home, staging in there from Flagstaff, +seventy miles away. He had an inexhaustible fund of stories, mostly made +up out of whole cloth. These improbable tales were harmless, however, +and in time he became almost an institution at the Canyon. The last +years of his life were spent at El Tovar, regaling the tourists with his +colorful and imaginary incidents of the wild and woolly days. + +He was quite proud of his Munchausenian abilities. Another old-timer at +the Canyon, W. W. Bass, who is still alive, was Cap's best friend. Cap +Hance was often heard to declare: "There are three liars here at the +Canyon; I'm one and Bass is the other two." + +Romantic old ladies at El Tovar often pressed him for a story of his +early fights with the Indians. Here is one of his experiences: + +"Once, a good many years ago when I was on the outs with the Navajos, I +was riding the country a few miles back from here looking up some of my +loose horses. I happened to cast my eye over to one side and saw a bunch +of the red devils out looking for trouble. I saw that I was outnumbered, +so I spurred old Roaney down into a draw at the left, hoping that I +hadn't been seen. I got down the draw a little piece and thought I had +given them the slip, but the yelling told me that they were still after +me. I thought I could go down this draw a ways and then circle out and +get back to my ranch. But I kept going down the canyon and the walls +kept getting steeper and steeper, and narrower and narrower until +finally they got so close together that me and Roaney stuck right +there." + +At this point he always stopped and rolled a cigarette. The ladies were +invariably goggle-eyed with excitement and would finally exclaim: + +"What happened then, Captain Hance?" + +"Oh, they killed me," he'd say simply. + +Another time he was again being chased by Indians, and looking back over +his shoulder at them, not realizing that he was so near the Rim of the +Canyon, his horse ran right up to the edge and jumped off into space. + +"I'd a been a goner that time," he said, "if I hadn't a had time to +think it over and decide what to do." (He fell something like five +thousand feet.) "So when my horse got within about fifteen feet from the +ground, I rose up in the stirrups and gave a little hop and landed on +the ground. All I got was a twisted ankle." + +A lady approached him one day while he stood on the Rim gazing into the +mile-deep chasm. + +"Captain Hance," she said, "I don't see any water in the Canyon. Is this +the dry season, or does it never have any water in it?" + +Gazing at her earnestly through his squinty, watery eyes, he exclaimed: + +"Madam! In the early days many's the time I have rode my horse up here +and let him drink _right where we stand_!" + +The old fellow was a bachelor, but he insisted that in his younger days +he had married a beautiful girl. When asked what had become of her he +would look mournful and tell a sad tale of her falling over a ledge down +in the Canyon when they were on their honeymoon. He said it took him +three days to reach her, and that when he did locate her he found she +had sustained a broken leg, so he had to shoot her. + +As he grew feeble, he seemed to long for the quiet depths of the gorge, +and several times he slipped away and tried to follow the old trail he +had made in his youth. He wanted to die down at his copper mine. At +last, one night when he was near eighty years old, he escaped the +vigilance of his friends and with an old burro that had shared his +happier days he started down the trail. Ranger West got wind of it and +followed him. He found him where he had fallen from the trail into a +cactus patch and had lain all night exposed to the raw wind. He was +brought back and cared for tenderly, but he passed away. Prominent men +and women who had known and enjoyed him made up a fund to buy a bronze +plate for his grave. Remembering the size of his yarns, whoever placed +the enormous boulders at his head and feet put them nine feet apart. + +Halfway between my cabin and the Rim, in the pine woods, is a well-kept +grave with a neat stone and an iron fence around it. Here lies the body +of United States Senator Ashurst's father, who was an old-timer at the +Canyon. Years ago, while working a mine at the bottom of the Canyon, he +was caught by a cave-in and when his friends reached him he was dead. +They lashed his body on an animal and brought him up the steep trail to +be buried. While I was in Washington, Senator Ashurst told me of his +father's death and something of his life at the Canyon. He said that +often in the rush and worry of capitol life he longed for a few peaceful +moments at his father's grave. + +I never saw Senator Ashurst at the Grand Canyon, but another senator was +there often, stirring up some row or other with the Government men. He +seemed to think he owned the Canyon, the sky overhead, the dirt +underneath, and particularly the trail thereinto. His hirelings were +numerous, and each and every one was primed to worry Uncle Sam's +rangers. As dogs were prohibited in the Park, every employee of the +Senator's was amply provided with canines. Did the tourists particularly +enjoy dismounting for shade and rest at certain spots on the trail, +those places were sure to get fenced in and plastered with "Keep Off" +signs, under the pretense that they were mining claims and belonged to +him. We used to wonder what time this Senator found to serve his +constituents. + +Uncle Sam grew so weary of contesting every inch of the trail that he +set himself to build a way of his own for the people to use. Several men +under the direction of Ranger West were set to trail-building. They made +themselves a tent city on the north side of the river and packers were +kept busy taking mule loads of materials to them daily. Hundreds of +pounds of TNT were packed down safely, but one slippery morning the +horses which had been pressed into service lost their footing, slid over +the edge of the trail, and hit Bright Angel again a thousand feet below. +The packers held their breath expecting to be blown away, as two of the +horses that fell were loaded with the high explosive. It was several +minutes before they dared believe themselves safe. They sent for White +Mountain, and when he reached the animals he found they were literally +broken to pieces, their packs and cargoes scattered all over the side of +the mountain. They dragged the dead animals a few feet and dropped them +into a deep fissure which was handy. Fresh snow was scraped over the +blood-stained landscape, and when the daily trail party rode serenely +down a few minutes later there was nothing to show that a tragedy had +taken place. + +Later an enormous charge of this high explosive was put back of a point +that Rees Griffith, the veteran trail-builder, wished to remove, and the +result was awaited anxiously. About four in the afternoon Rees called +Headquarters and reported that the shot was a huge success. He was +greatly elated and said his work was about done. + +It was. + +An hour later Ranger West called for help: Rees had climbed to the top +to inspect the shot at close range, and a mammoth boulder loosened by +the blast came tumbling down, carrying Rees to the rocks below. He was +terribly crushed and broken, but made a gallant fight to live. In +looking over some notes I found a copy of White Mountain's report, which +tells the story much more completely than I could hope to: + +"In accordance with instructions, accompanied by Nurse Catti from El +Tovar I left Headquarters about 6:30 P.M. bound for Camp +Roosevelt, to be of such assistance as possible to Rees Griffith, who +had been injured by a falling rock. + +"The night was not very cold, rather balmy than otherwise, and the +descent into the Canyon was made as quickly as possible, the factor of +safety being considered. Had we been engaged in any other errand the +mystical beauty of the Canyon, bathed in ethereal moonlight, would have +been greatly enjoyed. We reached the packers' camp at Pipe Creek at nine +o'clock and found hot coffee prepared for us. Miss Catti borrowed a pair +of chaps there from one of the boys, as the wind had come up and it was +much colder. We were warned to proceed slowly over the remainder of the +trail on account of packed ice in the trail. We covered Tonto Trail in +good time, but below the 1,500-foot level on down was very dangerous. +The tread of the trail was icy and in pitch darkness, the moonlight not +reaching there. However, we reached the bottom without mishap. Miss +Catti never uttered a word of complaint or fear, but urged me to go as +fast as I considered safe. + +"When we reached Kaibab Suspension Bridge a ranger was waiting to take +our mules. We walked across the bridge and found other mules there. We +thus lost no time in crossing the bridge with animals. + +"We arrived at Camp Roosevelt a few minutes after eleven and went +immediately to where Rees had been carried. Examination showed that he +had been dead probably fifteen minutes. He had been unconscious since +nine-thirty. Two fellow-Mormons sat with the body the rest of the night. + +"When morning came arrangements were made with Rangers West and Peck to +pack the body out of the Canyon if it should be so ordered. (We would +have mounted a platform on a mule's back, lashed the body in place, and +packed it out in that manner.) However, we all felt that it would be +much better to bury him in the Canyon near the place where he lost his +life. After conferring with the Superintendent by telephone, Miss Catti, +Landscape Engineer Ferris, Rangers West, Peck, and myself selected a +spot considered proper from the point of landscape engineering, high +water, surface wash, and proximity to the trail. This place is about +five hundred yards west of the bridge in an alcove in the Archaean Rock +which forms the Canyon wall. We dug a grave there. + +"The carpenter made a very good coffin from materials at hand, and we +lined it with sheets sent down by Mrs. Smith for that purpose. She also +sent a Prayer Book and a Bible to us by Ranger Winess, who accompanied +the coroner to the scene of the accident. An impaneled jury of six +declared the death to be due to unavoidable accident. After the inquest +the coroner turned the personal effects of Rees over to me. They +consisted of a gold watch and two hundred and ninety dollars in a money +belt. I hold these subject to instructions from the widow. The body was +prepared for burial by wrapping it in white according to Mormon custom. +The coffin was carried to the grave, and, while our small company stood +uncovered, I said a few words to the effect that it was right that this +man should be laid to rest near the spot where he fell and where he had +spent a great part of his life; that it was fitting and proper that we +who had known him, worked with him, and loved him should perform this +last duty. Then the services for the burial of the dead were read, and +we left him there beside the trail he built." + +In the meantime I had been hovering anxiously at the phone, worried +about the dark, icy trail White Mountain and Nurse had to travel, and +fearing to hear that Rees was seriously injured. As soon as they reached +camp they called and said he had gone before they could get there. He +told me to wire the doctor at Williams and tell him he was not needed; +also to see that a message was sent to the wife and children of the dead +man telling them he would have to be buried in the Canyon where he was +killed. These errands were to be attended to over the local phone, but +for some reason the wire was dead. I was in a quandary. Just having +recovered from a prolonged attack of flu, I felt it unwise to go out in +several feet of snow, but that was my only course. + +Dressing as warmly as I could, I started up through the woods to ranger +quarters. The snow was above my waist, and I bumped into trees and fell +over buried logs before I reached the building. The long hall was in +darkness. I knew that most of the boys were out on duty. What if no one +were there! I knew my strength was about used up, and that I could never +cross the railroad tracks to the Superintendent's house. + +I went down the long cold hall knocking on every door. Nothing but +silence and plenty of it. I reached the door at the end of the hall and +knocked. Instantly I remembered that room belonged to Rees. His dog, +waiting to be taken down into the Canyon, leaped against the inside of +the door and went into a frenzy of howling and barking. I was +panic-stricken, and my nerve broke. I began to scream. Ranger Winess had +slept all through my knocking, but with the first scream he developed a +nightmare. He was back in the Philippines surrounded by fighting Moros +and one was just ready to knife him! He turned loose a yell that crowded +my feeble efforts aside. Finally he got organized and came to my rescue. +I told him Rees was dead and gave him the Chief's message. + +"All right. I'll get dressed and attend to everything. You better get +back to bed." + +I informed him I would not move an inch until I had company back through +the darkness. He then took me home, and went to make arrangements. + +I called the Chief and told him Ranger Winess was on the job. Then I +tried to sleep again. Coyotes howled. Rees' dog barked faintly; a +screech owl in a tree near by moaned and complained, and my thoughts +kept going with the sad news to the little home Rees had built for his +family in Utah. + +Strange trampling, grinding noises close to the window finally made me +so nervous I just had to investigate. Taking the Chief's "forty-five," +which was a load in itself, I opened the rear door and crept around the +house. And there was a poor hungry pony that had wandered away from an +Indian camp, and found the straw packed around our water pipes. He was +losing no time packing himself around the straw. I was so relieved I +could have kissed his shaggy nose. I went back to bed and slept +soundly. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter VII: A GRAND CANYON CHRISTMAS_ + + +Funny how one can never get over being homesick at Christmas. Days and +weeks and even months can pass by without that yearning for family and +home, but in all the years since I hung my stocking in front of the big +fireplace in the old home I have never learned to face Christmas Eve in +a strange place with any degree of happiness. I believe the rangers all +felt the same way. Several days before Christmas they began to plan a +real "feed." + +We had moved into our new house now, and it was decided to make a home +of it by giving a Christmas housewarming. + +The rangers all helped to prepare the dinner. Each one could choose one +dish he wanted cooked and it was cooked, even if we had to send to +Montgomery Ward and Company for the makin's. Ranger Fisk opined that +turkey dressing without oysters in it would be a total loss as far as he +was concerned, so we ordered a gallon from the Coast. They arrived three +days before Christmas, and it was his duty to keep them properly +interred in a snow drift until the Great Day arrived. + +Ranger Winess wanted pumpkin pies with plenty of ginger; White Mountain +thought roast turkey was about his speed. Since we would have that +anyway, he got another vote. This time he called for mashed turnips and +creamed onions. The Superintendent, Colonel White, being an Englishman, +asked plaintively if we couldn't manage a plum pudding! We certainly +managed one just bursting with plums. That made him happy for the rest +of the day. + +I didn't tell anybody what I intended to have for my own special dish, +but when the time came I produced a big, rich fruit cake, baked back +home by my own mother, and stuffed full of nuts and fruit and ripened to +a perfect taste. + +All the rangers helped to prepare the feast. One of them rode down the +icy trail to Indian Gardens and brought back crisp, spicy watercress to +garnish the turkey. + +After it became an effort to chew, and impossible to swallow, we washed +the dishes and gathered around the blazing fire. Ranger Winess produced +his omnipresent guitar and swept the strings idly for a moment. Then he +began to sing, "Silent Night, Holy Night." That was the beginning of an +hour of the kind of music one remembers from childhood. Just as each one +had chosen his favorite dish, now each one selected his favorite +Christmas song. When I asked for "Little Town of Bethlehem" nobody +hesitated over the words. We all knew it better than we do "Star +Spangled Banner!" I could have prophesied what Colonel White would call +for, so it was no surprise when he swung into "God rest ye merry, +gentlemen, let nothing ye dismay." Fortunately, most of us had sung +carols in our distant youth, and we sang right with the Colonel. + +Someone suggested that each one tell of the strangest Christmas Day he +or she had ever spent. For a while none of us were in Arizona. Ranger +Winess was in a state of siege in the Philippines, while the Moros +worked themselves into a state of frenzy for the attack that followed; +Ranger Fisk scaled Table Mountain, lying back of Capetown, and there +picked a tiny white flower which he had pressed in the Bible presented +to him there that day; each sailor in port had received a Bible that day +with this inscription: "Capetown, Africa, Christ's Birthday, December +25, 19--." White Mountain snowshoed twenty miles in Yellowstone to have +Christmas dinner with another ranger, but when he got there he found his +friend delirious with flu. "Did he die?" we questioned anxiously. Ranger +Winess and the Chief looked at each other and grinned. + +"Do I look like a dead one?" Ranger Winess demanded. + +"I couldn't let him die," White Mountain said. "We had just lost one +Government man, mysteriously, and hadn't any more to spare. So I got his +dogs and sledge and hauled him into Headquarters." + +Of course we wanted to know about the "lost" ranger. It seemed that +there had broken out among the buffalo herd in the Park a strange malady +that was killing them all off. An expert from Washington was en route +to make a study of the ailment, and was due to arrive just before +Christmas. Days passed into weeks and still he didn't show up. Inquiries +to Washington disclosed that he had started as per schedule. Tracing his +journey step by step it was discovered that on the train out of Chicago +he had become ill with flu and had been left in a small town hospital. +There he had died without recovering his speech, and had been buried in +the potter's field! + +"Well, then what happened to the buffalo?" + +"Washington sent us a German scientist. We loved that nation just about +that time, and on his arrival diplomatic relations were badly strained. +He was too fat and soft to use snowshoes or skis, so we loaded him on a +light truck and started for the buffalo farm. We stalled time and again, +and he sat in lordly indifference while we pushed and shoveled out. We +seemed hopelessly anchored in one drift, and from his perch where he sat +swaddled up like a mummy came his 'Vy don't you carry a portable +telephone so ve couldt hook it over the vires and call for _them_ to +come and pull us oudt?' One of the rangers replied, 'It would be nice +for us to telephone ourselves to please pull us oudt. _We_ are the +_them_ that does the pulling around here.' + +"The old boy mumbled and sputtered but rolled out and put a husky +shoulder to the wheel, and we went on our way rejoicing. He won our +respect at the buffalo farm for he soon discovered the germ that was +killing our charges, and he prepared a serum with which we vaccinated +the entire herd." + +"Wow!" Colonel White exclaimed. "I think I'd rather fight Moros than +vaccinate buffalo." He, too, had spent years in foreign warfare; his +experiences are graphically told in _Bullets and Bolos_. + +While we heard about the buffalo, one of the rangers left the room. He +came back presently, and White Mountain said to me: "Don't you want to +see your Christmas present?" + +I looked across at my proud new riding-boots, with their fancy +stitching, and funny high heels just like those the rangers wore. "I'm +crazy about them," I said. + +But the whole bunch were laughing. White Mountain led me to the door, +and there I had my first glimpse of Tar Baby! He was a four-year-old +horse that had spent those years running wild on the range. A few months +before he had been captured and partly tamed. But he was hard-mouthed, +and stiff-necked and hell-bent on having his own way about things. I +didn't know all that when I saw him this Christmas Day. To me he was +perfect. He was round and fat, shiny black, with a white star in his +forehead, and four white feet. One eye was blue, and the other one the +nicest, softest, kindest brown! He was just that kind of a Dr. Jekyll +and Mr. Hyde horse, too! He was fitted out with a new saddle, a gaudy +Navajo saddle blanket, and a bridle with silver inlaid fittings. The +spade bit was necessary. I found that out later, also. + +I would have stood there speechless with admiration the rest of the day, +but the others reminded me it was time to light the big tree we had +planned for the children in the Park. + +The rangers had brought a slender fir into the Information Room and we +had it trimmed within an inch of its life. Cranberries and popcorn ropes +festooned its branches, and again Montgomery Ward and Company's +catalogue had been searched for treasures to load it with. Every child +in the Park, regardless of race or color, was remembered. Little brown +brothers, whose Filipino mothers worked in the laundry, found themselves +possessors of strange toys; Navajo babies and Hopi cupids from the Hopi +House were well supplied. One small Hopi lass wailed loudly at the look +of the flaxen-haired doll that fell to her lot. She was afraid to hold +it--she wouldn't let anybody else touch it--so she stood it in a corner +and squalled at it from a safe distance. When the party was over, an +older sister had to carry it for her. I suspect she much preferred her +native dolls. + +After the tree was bare, we all went down to the Fred Harvey Recreation +Room and danced the rest of the evening away. + +I could hardly wait for morning to go for a ride on Tar Baby. Ranger +West brought him down to the house to saddle him. While I dressed up in +my new boots I overheard the conversation between the ranger and the +horse. It was a rather one-sided talk, but quite interesting. + +"Whoa there, Tar Baby!" very firmly and casually. "Stand still now!" + +"Hey, now, you black devil, don't you try bitin' me again! Yes, he's a +nice baby horse," this last remark quite saccharine. A slight silence +fell while the cinches were being tightened, then--heels beating a tune +on the side of the shed, and sultry, sulphuric remarks being fitted to +the tune. About that time I was ready to go out. + +"Have any trouble with Tar Baby?" + +"No, oh, no. None whatever. Ready to go?" + +Every morning as soon as I was in the saddle we had the same argument. +Would he go where and as fast as I desired, or would he run as fast and +as far as he pleased? Sore wrists and a strained disposition were the +price I paid for winning the battle. He just went wild if he could race +with another horse. Of course White Mountain put his foot down on such +racing, and since the rangers were such good sports their Chief never +learned that racing was part of the daily program! + +One day, when some of the Washington officials were there, the Chief +borrowed Tar Baby to ride. He said it took him half a day to get him to +stay on the ground with the other horses. He came home fully determined +that I must trade my Christmas gift for a more sensible horse. Tears and +coaxing availed nothing, but I did win his consent to one more ride +before I gave him up. + +Ranger West was going to ride the drift fence and I started out with +him. Tar Baby was a handful that day, and I was having all I could do to +control him. We passed a bunch of tourists having lunch out of paper +sacks, and one of the men had a wonderful idea. He said something to the +others, and while they giggled he blew one of the bags full of air and +exploded it right under my horse. Of course Tar Baby bolted, and even as +he ran away I admired his ability to keep ahead of Ranger West, who was +running full tilt after us. It was five minutes before I could get the +bit out of his teeth and bring the spade device into play. I had to +choke him into submission. + +Ranger West and Ranger Fisk conducted those tourists out of the Park, +and they had to leave without seeing the Canyon. + +"Ve drove here from New York to see this Canyon," one complained, and +made wide gestures with both hands. + +"It wouldn't do you any good to see it," Ranger West told him grimly. +"You'd probably push somebody over the edge to have a little fun." + +I was sure the Chief would take Tar Baby away after that. But I guess he +thought if the horse hadn't killed me with such a good chance as he had, +I was safe. He never said another word about selling him. + +Several Indians were camped around in the woods near the Park, and we +visited them quite often. An Indian has as many angles in his makeup as +a centipede has legs. Just about the time you think you have one +characteristically placed, you put your finger down and he isn't there. +Charge one with dishonesty, and the next week he will ride a hundred +miles to deliver a bracelet you paid for months before. Decide he is +cruel and inhuman, and he will spend the night in heart-breaking labor, +carrying an injured white man to safety. + +I suggested hiring a certain Navajo to cut some wood, and was told that +he was too lazy to eat what he wanted. In a few days this same brave +came to Headquarters with the pelt of a cougar. He had followed the +animal sixty miles, tracking it in the snow on foot without a dog to +help him. We knew where he took the trail and where it ended. He killed +the big cat, skinned it, and carried the pelt back to the Canyon. You +won't find many white men with that much grit! A tourist from New York +saw the pelt and coveted it. He offered twenty-five dollars. Neewah +wanted fifty. The tourist tried to beat him down. There wasn't any +argument about it. The whole conversation was a monologue. The Indian +saw that the tourist wanted the skin badly, so he just sat and stared +into space while the tourist elaborated on how much twenty-five dollars +would buy and how little the pelt had cost the Indian! The buck simply +sat there until it was about time for the train to pull out, then he +picked up the hide and stalked away. Mr. Tourist hastened after him and +shelled out fifty pesos. I expect he told the home folks how he shot +that panther in self-defense. + +Ranger West did shoot a big cougar soon afterward. Not in self-defense +but in revenge. + +Not many deer lived on the South Rim then. That was before the fawns +were brought by airplane across the Canyon! The few that were there were +cherished and protected in every possible way. A salt pen was built so +high the cattle couldn't get in, and it was a wonderful sight to see the +graceful deer spring over that high fence with seemingly no effort at +all. Ranger West came in one morning with blood in his eye--one of his +pets had been dragged down under the Rim and half devoured by a giant +cougar. A hunt was staged at once. I was told to stay at home, but that +didn't stop me from going. Ranger Fisk always saddled Tar Baby for me +when everybody else thought it best to leave me behind. So I wasn't far +away when the big cat was treed by the dogs. He sat close to the trunk +of the dead tree, defying the dogs and spitting at them until they were +almost upon him. Then he sprang up the tree and lay stretched out on a +limb snarling until a rifle ball brought him down. He hit the ground +fighting, and ripped the nose of an impetuous puppy wide open. Another +shot stretched him out. He measured eight feet from tip to tip. His skin +was tanned by an Indian and adorns a bench in the Ranger Office. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter VIII: THE DAY'S WORK_ + + +The snow had been tumbling down every day for weeks, until several feet +lay on the ground. After each storm the rangers took snow plows and +cleared the roads along the Rim, but the rest of our little world lay +among big snow drifts. As we walked around among the houses, only our +heads and shoulders showed above the snow. It was like living in Alaska. +The gloomy days were getting monotonous, and when the Chief announced he +was going to make an inspection trip over Tonto Trail, I elected myself, +unanimously, to go along. + +"But it's cold riding down there, even if there is no snow," protested +White Mountain. "And, besides, your horse is lame." + +"Well, it isn't exactly hot up here, and I'll borrow Dixie. I'm going!" + +Ranger West obligingly lent Dixie to me and I went. The thermometer +registered well below zero when we started down Bright Angel Trail. On +account of the icy trail my descent threatened to be a sudden one. Dixie +slid along stiff-legged, and I was half paralyzed with fright and cold. +But every time the Chief looked back, I pulled my frozen features into +what I considered a cheerful smile. I got more and more scared as we +went farther down, and finally had a brilliant idea. "My feet are +awfully cold, and couldn't I walk a while?" The Chief had probably heard +that same excuse from a thousand others, but he gravely assented and +helped me dismount. I started down the trail leading Dixie. My feet +really were so cold they were numb. This was probably a mercy, since +Dixie kept stepping on them! I began to run to "keep out from in under," +and she kept pace until we were almost galloping down the trail. When we +got below the snow line, my excuse wouldn't work, and I had to ride +again. + +There was sagebrush and sand and cactus. Then sand and cactus and +sagebrush. Here and there we saw a lop-eared burro, and far away I saw +an eagle sailing around. Having nothing else to do I counted the burros +we passed--seventy. A bunch grazing near the trail looked interesting, +so I made a careful approach and took their picture. Of course I forgot +to roll the film, and a little later Friend Husband decided to +photograph the enormous pillar that gives the name to Monument Creek. +The result was rather amazing when we developed the film a week later. +The wild burros were grazing placidly on the summit of a barren rock, a +couple of hundred feet in the air, without visible means of ascent or +descent. The Chief made a few sarcastic remarks about this picture, but +I firmly reminded him my burros were there first! He didn't say anything +else--aloud. + +It took a long day's riding to reach Hermit's Camp just at dusk. We were +warmly welcomed by a roaring fire and hot supper. After I ate and then +sat a while I was too stiff to move. I knew I would stay awake all night +and nurse my aches. That, added to my fear of "phoby cats," made me +reluctant to retire. What's a hydrophobia cat? I don't know for sure +that it's anything, but the camp man told me to keep my door locked or +one would sneak in and bite me. He also said that I would go crazy if +one chewed on me. I intended to keep at least one ear cocked for +suspicious noises; but when I hit the cot everything was a blank until I +heard the Chief making a fire in the little tin stove. + +"Wake up and get dressed. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, and +I want you to walk down to the creek and see the trout." + +"Walk?" I never expected even to crawl again. Sore! Stiff!! I labored +all of ten minutes trying to get my boots on. And I had to ride up +Hermit Trail that day. I was glad to ride. I never mentioned walking to +warm my feet. The trail wound up and up. Today I slid down on Dixie's +tail, whereas yesterday I had braced my heels against her ears. A young +snowslide came down the mountainside, and we almost went on with it. It +missed us by such a very slight margin that fugitive snowballs rolled +around Dixie's feet and left her trembling and cringing with fright. + +Dixie and I had been loitering quite a distance behind, because White +Mountain had made us a little mad about something; but we decided we +really had no right to be killed without letting him know about it, and +we kept close to his heels the rest of the way. + +All too soon we reached near-zero weather again. It got zero, then +zero-er, and quickly zero-est. I thought of all the hot things I could +remember, endeavoring to raise the temperature. + +Real chili con carne. + +Pennsylvania Avenue in August. + +Hornet stings. + +Spankings sustained in my youth! + +It was useless. I couldn't qualify as a Scientist. Maybe I lacked +concentration, for between looking out for another avalanche and +wondering how soon I could decently ask for another cup of coffee from +the thermos bottle, my thoughts wandered. + +Perhaps the Chief was cold, too. Anyway, we stopped at Santa Maria +Spring and spread out our lunch. The quaint little shelter over the +spring was being rapidly covered with Boston ivy. White Mountain said +Earl Shirley used to ride down there twice a week after a hard day's +work to water the newly set plants so they would grow. One is always +learning new things about Western men! + +It was mighty good to find Ranger Fisk at the top of the trail. He said +he thought I would be cold and tired so he brought a flivver to take me +the remaining six miles in to Headquarters. He had the house warm and +had melted snow for drinking-water. All the water pipes had frozen while +we were gone, and I washed my face with cold cream for several days. + +I hadn't more than settled down comfortably when the Chief found it +necessary to make another trip down. When he mentioned going I played +the piano so loud I couldn't hear him. I had no desire to go. Not while +I could sit in my warm house and read and sew in my comfortable rocking +chair. It was without a single qualm that I waved him a floury adieu +from the midst of cookie-making. I closed the door and went back to my +baking, which was abruptly terminated by a blazing board falling into +the crock of dough. The house was burning over my luckless head. I +turned around and around a few times in the same spot, then tried to +throw a bucket of water up against the ceiling. Had I been the +conflagration it would have ended then and there, for I was thoroughly +drenched. Failing to be my own fire engine I ran out and happened to see +Ranger Winess crossing the road. He must have been startled at my war +whoop, for he came running. By that time the smoke was rolling out +through the roof. While he climbed into the loft and tore pieces of +blazing boards away, I gave the emergency call by telephone, and soon we +had plenty of help. After the fire was conquered, I went to the hotel +and stayed until the Chief got back. + +The months from Christmas to April are the dullest at Grand Canyon. Of +course tourists still come but not in the numbers milder weather brings. +There is little or no automobile travel coming in from the outside +world. Very few large groups or conventions come except in June, which +seems to be the month for brides and large parties. That left the ranger +family more time for play, especially in the evenings, and we had jolly +parties in our big living-room. The piano was the drawing card, and +combined with Ranger Winess' large guitar manufactured strange music. +When the other rangers joined in and sang they managed to make quite a +racket. Perhaps the songs they sang would not have met with enthusiasm +in select drawing-rooms, but they had a charm for all that. Cowboy +songs, sea chanties, and ballads many years old were often on call. +Kipling's poems, especially "I Learned about Women from Her" were prime +favorites. + +I soon learned to take my sewing close to the fire and sit there quietly +a few minutes in order to be forgotten. There are realms of masculine +pleasure into which no mere woman should intrude. Besides that, I never +could negotiate the weird crooks and turns they gave to their tunes. +Every time an old favorite was sung, it developed new twists and curves. +Ranger Winess would discover a heretofore unknown chord on his guitar: +"Get that one, boys. That's a wicked minor!" Then for the ensuing five +minutes, agonizing wails shattered the smoke screen while they were on +the trail of that elusive minor. I had one set rule regarding their +concerts--positively no lighted cigarettes were to be parked on my +piano! + +One song Ranger Winess always rendered as a solo, because all the others +enjoyed hearing it too much to join in with him: + + OLD ROANEY + + I was hangin' 'round the town, and I didn't have a dime. + I was out of work and loafin' all the time. + When up stepped a man, and he said, "I suppose + You're a bronco-buster. I can tell by your clothes." + + Well, I thought that I was, and I told him the same. + I asked him if he had any bad ones to tame? + "I have an old pony what knows how to buck; + At stacking up cowboys he has all the luck."' + + I asked him what'd he pay if I was to stay + And ride his old pony around for a day. + "I'll give you ten dollars;" I said, "That's my chance," + Throwed my saddle in the buckboard and headed for the ranch. + + Got up next morning, and right after chuck + Went down to the corral to see that pony buck. + He was standin' in the corner, standin' all alone---- + That pig-eyed pony, a strawberry roan! + + Little pin ears that were red at the tip; + The X-Y-Z was stamped on his hip. + Narrow in the chest, with a scar on his jaw, + What all goes with an old outlaw! + + First came the bridle, then there was a fight; + But I throwed on my saddle and screwed it down tight, + Stepped to his middle, feelin' mighty fine, + Said: "Out of the way, boys, watch him unwind!" + + Well, I guess Old Roaney sure unwound; + Didn't spend much of his time on the ground! + Went up in the East, come down in the West---- + Stickin' to his middle, I was doin' my best! + + He went in the air with his belly to the sun + The old sun-fishin' son-of-a-gun! + Lost both the stirrups and I lost my hat + Reached for the horn, blinder than a bat. + + Then Old Roaney gently slid into high, + Left me sittin' on nothin' but the sky. + There ain't no cowboy who is alive + Can ride Old Roaney when he makes his high dive! + +When the piano player stopped and Frank struck a few soft chords on his +guitar I knew they were getting sentimental. Pretty soon someone would +begin to hum: "When the dew is on the rose, and the world is all +repose." ... Those rangers lived close to danger and hardships every +day, but they had more real sentiment in their makeup than any type of +men I know. Maybe it's because women are so scarce around them that they +hold all womanhood in high regard. Most of them dreamed of a home and +wife and children, but few of them felt they had a right to ask a woman +to share their primitive mode of living. They might not jump up to +retrieve a dropped handkerchief, or stand at attention when a woman +entered a room, but in their hearts they had a deep respect for every +woman that showed herself worthy. + +Now and then, a certain son of Scotland, Major Hunter Clarkson, dropped +in. He was a real musician, and while I sewed and the Chief smoked he +treated us to an hour of true melody. He used to play the bagpipes at +home with his four brothers, he said, and he admitted that at times the +racket they made jarred his mother's china from the shelves! + +He had served with the British forces in Egypt, and if he could have +known how interested we were in his experiences, he would have given us +more than a bare hint of the scenes that were enacted during the defense +of the Dardanelles and the entrance into Jerusalem. + +One night he was telling us something about the habits of the Turks they +fought, when the telephone rang and interrupted the narrative, which was +never finished. The Chief had to go and investigate an attempted +suicide. + +It seemed that a lad under twenty, in Cleveland, had seen on a movie +screen a picture of Grand Canyon. He tucked that vision away somewhere +in his distorted brain, and when he had his next quarrel with his mother +he gathered together all his worldly wealth and invested it in a ticket +to Grand Canyon. There he intended to end his troubles, and make his +mother sorry she hadn't sewed on a button the instant he had asked her +to! That was a touching scene he pictured to himself--his heart-broken +mother weeping with remorse because her son had jumped into the Canyon. + +But! When he reached the Rim and looked over, it was a long way to the +bottom, and there were sharp rocks there. Perhaps no one would ever find +him, and what's the use of killing one's self if nobody knows about it? +Something desperate had to be done, however, so he shot himself where he +fancied his heart was located (he hit his stomach, which was a pretty +close guess) with a cheap pistol he carried, hurled the gun into the +Canyon, and started walking back to Headquarters. He met Ranger Winess +making a patrol and reported to him that he had committed suicide! +Rangers West and Winess took care of him through the night, with Nurse +Catti's supervision, and the next day the Chief took him to Flagstaff, +where the bullet was removed and he was returned to his mother a sadder +and a wiser boy. + +There is some mysterious power about the Canyon that seems to make it +impossible for a person to face the gorge and throw himself into it. + +A young man, immensely wealthy, brought his fiancee to the Canyon for a +day's outing. At Williams, where they had lunch, he proposed that she go +on to the Coast with him, but she refused, saying that she thought it +was not the thing to do, since her mother expected her back home that +night. He laughed and scribbled something on a paper which he tucked +carelessly into a pocket of his overcoat. They went on to the Canyon and +joined a party that walked out beyond Powell's Monument. He walked up to +the Rim and stared into the depths, then turned facing his sweetheart. +"Take my picture," he shouted; and while she bent over the kodak, he +uttered a prayer, threw his arms up, and leaped _backward_ into the +Canyon. He had not been able to face it and destroy the life God had +given him. Hours later rangers recovered his body, and in his pocket +found the paper on which he had written: "You wouldn't go with me to Los +Angeles, so it's goodbye!" + +Ranger West came in one day and told me that there was a lot of sickness +among the children at an Indian encampment a few miles from +Headquarters. I rode out with him to see what was the matter and found +that whooping-cough was rampant. For some reason, even though it was a +very severe winter, the Supai Indians had come up from their home in +Havasu Canyon, "Land of the Sky-Blue Water," made famous by Cadman, and +were camped among the trees on a hillside. The barefoot women and dirty +children were quite friendly, but the lazy, filthy bucks would have been +insolent had I been alone. They lolled in the "hewas," brush huts daubed +with mud, while the women dragged in wood and the children filled sacks +with snow to melt for drinking purposes. To be sure they didn't waste +any of it in washing themselves. + +They would not let me doctor the children, and several of them died; but +we could never find where they were buried. It is a custom of that tribe +to bury its members with the right arm sticking up out of the ground. In +case it is a lordly man that has passed to the Happy Hunting Ground his +pony is shot and propped upright beside the grave with the reins +clutched in the dead master's hand. + +I thought I might be able to reach a better understanding with the women +if the men were not present, so I told them to bring all the baskets +they made to my house and I would look at them and buy some of them. +Beautiful baskets were brought by the older squaws, and botched-up +shabby ones by the younger generation. Sometimes a sick child would be +brought by the mother, but there was little I could do for it outside of +giving it nourishing food. An Indian's cure-all is castor oil. He will +drink quarts of that if he can obtain it. + +The Supai women are without dignity or appeal, and I never formed the +warm friendships with them that I did with women of other tribes. They +begged for everything in sight. One fat old squaw coveted a yellow +evening gown she saw in my closet; I gave it to her, also a discarded +garden hat with big yellow roses on it. She draped the gown around her +bent shoulders and perched the hat on top of her gray tangled hair and +went away happier than Punch. In a few minutes a whole delegation of +squaws arrived to see what they could salvage. + +Wattahomigie, their chief, and Dot, his wife, are far superior to the +rest of the tribe, and when it was necessary to have any dealing with +their people the Chief acted through Wattahomigie. He had often begged +us to visit their Canyon home, and we promised to go when we could. He +came strutting into our house one summer day and invited us to accompany +him home, as the season of peaches and melons was at its height. He had +been so sure we would go that he left orders for members of the tribe to +meet us at Hilltop where the steep trail begins. We listened to him. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter IX: THE DOOMED TRIBE_[1] + + +Wattahomigie reminded us the next morning that we had promised to go +with him, so we rushed around and in an hour were ready to follow his +lead. + +It's a long trail, winding through forest and desert, up hill and down, +skirting sheer precipices and creeping through tunnels. And at the end +of the trail one stumbles upon the tiny, hidden village where the last +handful of a once powerful nation has sought refuge. Half-clad, +half-fed, half-wild, one might say, they hide away there in their +poverty, ignorance, and superstition. But oh, the road one must travel +to reach them! I hadn't anticipated Arizona trails when I so blithely +announced to White Mountain, "Whither thou goest, I will go." Neither +had I slept in an Indian village when I added, "And where thou lodgest, +I will lodge." + +We loaded our camp equipment into the Ford, tied a canvas bag of water +where it would be air-cooled, strapped a road-building shovel on the +running-board, and were on our way. + +The first few miles led through forests of pinon and pine. Gradually +rising, we reached the desert, where only cactus, sagebrush, and yucca +grew. As far as we could see the still, gray desert lay brooding under +the sun's white glare. Surely no living thing could exist in that alkali +waste. But look! An ashen-colored lizard darts across the trail, a sage +rabbit darts behind a yucca bush, and far overhead a tireless buzzard +floats in circles. Is he keeping a death watch on the grizzled old +"Desert Rat" we pass a little later? His face burned and seamed with the +desert's heat and storms, the old prospector cheerfully waved at us, as +he shared his beans and sour dough with a diminutive burro, which bore +his master's pack during the long search through the trackless desert +for the elusive gold. For us it would be suicide to leave the blazed +trail. The chances are that the circling buzzard and hungry coyotes will +be the only mourners present at his funeral. + +Now and then we passed a twisted, warped old juniper that was doubtless +digging for a foothold while Christ walked on earth. The Chief said +these old junipers vie with the Sequoias in age. Nothing else broke the +monotony of the heat and sand, until we came to the first water hole. + +It was dry now, for the summer rains were long overdue, and bogged +firmly in the red adobe mud was a gaunt long-horned cow. The Chief was +too tender-hearted to shoot her and drive on, as he knew he should. +Instead he stopped the car and got out to see if he could possibly +"extract" her. Failing to frighten her into pulling herself out, he +goaded her into a frenzy by throwing sharp stinging rocks at her. One +landed on her tender flank and she tossed her horns and struggled. The +Chief stooped, with his back to her, for another rock, just as she +pulled out. + +"Look out. She's coming for you!" I yelled. + +Straight at her rescuer she charged with an angry rumble. Round and +round a stunted pinon they raced, hot and angry. I was too helpless with +mirth to be of any aid, and the Chief's gun was in the car. Still, an +angry range cow on the prod is no joke, and it began to look serious. At +last the impromptu marathon ended by the Chief making an extra sprint +and rolling into the Ford just as her sharp horns raked him fore and +aft. + +"Well!" he exploded, and glared at me while I wiped the tears out of my +eyes. + +"Shall we drive on?" I inquired meekly. We drove on. + +A few miles along the way a piteous bawling reached us. Since even +Arizona cattle must drink sometimes, a cow had hidden her baby while she +went to a distant water hole. Three coyotes had nosed him out and were +preparing to fill up on unwilling veal. He bobbed about on his unsteady +little legs and protested earnestly. The sneaking beasts scattered at +our approach, and we drove on thinking the calf would be all right. +Looking back, however, we saw that the coyotes had returned and pulled +him down. This time the Chief's forty-five ended the career of one, and +the other two shifted into high, getting out of range without delay. The +trembling calf was loaded into the machine and we dropped him when the +main herd was reached. Here he would be safe from attack, but I have +often wondered if the mother found her baby again. At the next water +hole a lean lynx circled warily around with his eye fixed hungrily on +some wild ducks swimming too far from shore for him to reach. It seemed +that the sinister desert mothered cruel breeds. + +We had reached the "Indian Pasture" now, where the Indians kept their +ponies. A score of Supai bucks were digging a shallow ditch. Upon being +questioned they said the ditch was a mile long and would carry water to +the big dam in their pasture when the rains fell. They were finishing +the ditch just in time, for the first of the season's storms was closing +down upon us. There was an ominous stillness, then the black cloud was +rent with tongues of flame. And the rains descended--more than +descended. They beat and dashed and poured until it seemed that the very +floodgates of heaven had opened over our unfortunate heads. It was +impossible to stay in the glue-and-gumbo road, so we took to the open +prairie. Since this part of the country is well ventilated with +prairie-dog holes, we had anything but smooth sailing. + +"Stop," I shouted, trying to make myself heard above the roar of the +storm. + +"No time to stop now," was the answer. + +We pulled under a sheltering juniper and slowed up. + +"What did you want to stop there for? Don't you know we have to keep on +moving if we reach a shelter tonight?" inquired the pilot of our ship. +He had evidently been brooding over my unseemly mirth at the mad cow +episode. + +"Oh, all right," I agreed, "but the bedding-roll bounced out and I +thought you might want to pick it up." The fugitive bedding recovered, +we resumed our journey. + +The storm ended as suddenly as everything else happens in that +topsy-turvy land and in the eastern sky hung a double quivering rainbow. +I rubbed my eyes and looked again. It _was_ double! The Chief explained +that this was due to a mirage, but I placed it to the credit of +altitude, like all other Arizona wonders. + +At Hilltop we found Indian guides with trail ponies to take us the rest +of the way. They had been waiting two days for us, they said. Strolling +to the Canyon's brink I encountered a fearful odor. "What in the world +is that?" I asked Wattahomigie (which by the way means "Good Watchful +Indian"). "Him pony," was the stolid reply. "But--?" "Buck and fall over +trail," explained my Indian brave. I fled to the Chief for comfort and +change of air. He investigated and found that when Wattahomigie had +brought the ponies up from the village one had become unruly and pitched +over the Rim, landing squarely across the trail a hundred feet below. It +was the only trail, but it never occurred to the Noble Red Man to remove +the dead horse. No indeed! If it proved impossible to get around the +obstacle, why, stay off the trail until Providence cleared the way. In +other words let Nature take its course. The Chief procured a few pounds +of TNT from the Government warehouse located there, and with the aid of +that soon cleared the trail. + +"That good way to clear trail," approved Wattahomigie. "No pull, no dig, +no nothin'." I hoped no TNT would be left roaming at large for +promiscuous experiments by Wattahomigie while we were natives of his +village. + +We camped there at Hilltop that night, and after a supper of fried +sage-rabbit, corn cakes, and coffee, I rolled into the blankets and fell +asleep without worrying about the morrow. Something awakened me. I +certainly _had_ heard something. Inch by inch I silently lifted myself +from the blankets and peered into the shadows. Standing there like a +graven image was a beautiful doe with twin fawns playing around her. +Curiosity had conquered caution and she was investigating our camp. Just +then a coyote's wild cry sounded from the distance. She lifted her +sensitive nose and sniffed the air, then wheeled and glided into the +deep shadows. Other coyote voices swelled the chorus. Hundreds it seemed +were howling and shrieking like mad, when I dropped to sleep to dream I +was listening to grand opera at the Metropolitan. + +Morning dawned clear and crisp. "Will it rain today?" I asked an Indian. +"No rain; three sleeps, then rain," he told me; and this proved correct. + +Wattahomigie had provided a long-legged race horse for me to ride. "Will +he carry her all right?" the Chief asked him. Wattahomigie looked me +over carefully and one could almost see him comparing me mentally with a +vision of his fat squaw, Dottie. His white teeth flashed a smile: "Sure, +my squaw him all time ride that pony." That settled the matter. "Him +squaw" weighs a good two hundred pounds and is so enveloped in +voluminous skirts that the poor horse must feel completely submerged. + +This trail does not gradually grow steeper--it starts that way. I had +been told that all other trails we had traveled were boulevards compared +to this one, and it was well that I had been warned beforehand. My place +was near the center of the caravan, and I was divided between the fear +that I should slide down on top of the unwary Indian riding ahead and +the one that the Chief's horse directly behind would bump me off the +trail. It was a cheerful situation. The Canyon walls closed in upon us, +and the trail grew worse, if that could be possible. The firm rock gave +way to shale that slipped and slid under the feet of the horses. It was +so narrow that one slip of a hoof would send the horse crashing on the +rocks hundreds of feet beneath. Still this is the only path it has been +possible to make down to the Indian retreat. It was carved out by a past +generation when they crept down into the valley far below to make their +last futile stand. + +We rounded a point and came out near a sparkling pool of clear, inviting +water fed by a stream bursting out of what appeared to be solid rock. I +knelt to drink, but was jerked to my feet sharply by a watchful Indian. +The water is unfit to drink on account of the arsenic it contains. I +noticed that none of the hot, tired horses even dipped their dusty noses +into the pool. Safely away from this unhealthy spot we came into +Rattlesnake Canyon, so named for obvious reasons, where the riding was +much easier. Twelve miles onward and two thousand feet farther down +found us among bubbling springs and magnificent cotton woods. This is +where the Thousand Springs come into the sunlight after their rushing +journey through many miles of underground caverns. New springs broke +out from the roots of the trees and along the banks of the stream until +it was a rushing little river. + +We were evidently expected, for when we reached the village the natives +all turned out to see and be seen: brown children as innocent of +clothing as when they first saw the light; fat, greasy squaws with +babies on their backs; old men and women--all stared and gibbered at us. + +"Big Jim" and "Captain Burros" headed what seemed to be the committee of +welcome. Big Jim was clad in a full-dress suit and silk hat donated to +him by Albert, King of the Belgians, and with that monarch's medal of +honor pinned to his front, Jim was, speaking conservatively, a startling +vision. Captain Burros wore the white shirt of ceremony which he dons +only for special occasions, with none of the whiteness dimmed by being +tucked into his trousers. + +Big Jim welcomed us gravely, asking the Chief: "Did you bring my +_fermit_?" This permit, a paper granting Big Jim a camping location on +Park grounds, having been duly delivered, Jim invited us to share his +hewa, but after one look at the surroundings we voted unanimously to +camp farther up the stream among the cottonwoods. We chose a level spot +near the ruins of an old hewa. + +While supper was being prepared an aged squaw tottered into camp and sat +down. She wailed and beat her breast and finally was persuaded to tell +her troubles. It seemed that she and her husband had lived in this hewa +until his death a year or two before. Then the hewa was thrown open to +the sky and abandoned, as is their custom. She disliked to mention his +name because he might hear it in the spirit world and come back to see +what was being said about him. + +"Don't you want him to come back?" I asked idly, thinking to tease her. +Her look of utter terror was answer enough and shamed me for my +thoughtlessness. These Indians have a most exaggerated fear of death. +When one dies he and his personal belongings are taken to a wild spot +and there either cremated or covered with stones. No white man has ever +been permitted to enter this place of the dead. Any hour of the day or +night that a white man approaches, an Indian rises apparently from out +of the earth and silently waves him away. Until a few years ago the best +horse of the dead Indian was strangled and sent into the Happy Hunting +Ground with its owner, but with the passing of the older generation this +custom has been abandoned. + +From a powerful and prosperous tribe of thousands this nation has +dwindled down to less than two hundred wretched weaklings. Driven to +this canyon fastness from their former dwelling-place by more warlike +tribes, they have no coherent account of their wanderings or their +ancestors. About all they can tell is that they once lived in cliff +dwellings; that other Indians drove them away; and that then Spaniards +and grasping whites pushed them nearer and nearer the Canyon until they +descended into it, seeking refuge. They are held in low esteem by all +other Indian tribes and never marry outside of their own people. +Ridiculous and unreasonable tales about their savage customs have kept +timid explorers at a safe distance, and thus little has been learned +about them. This last fragment will pass away within a few years and all +trace will be lost. Tuberculosis claims a dozen yearly; the children are +weaklings from diseased parents and the result of intermarriage, so they +fall victims of comparatively harmless ailments. A few years ago an +epidemic of measles swept through the tribe. Poor ignorant creatures, +trying to cool the burning fever they spent hours bathing in the cold +waters of the stream flowing through the village. More than eighty died +in one week from the effects, and others that lived through it are +invalids. This was almost too much for their superstitious minds. They +were for fleeing from that accursed place, but the old men said: "Where +can we go? We have no other place but this. Let us wait here for death." +So they spent hours in dancing and ceremonies to appease the angry gods. +They have no favoring gods, only evil spirits which they must outwit or +bribe with dances. The Peach Dance which we had gone to see was for the +purpose of celebrating good crops of melons, corn, and other products +and to implore the mercy of harmful powers during the winter months. + +After the sun was out of sight we followed Wattahomigie to the scene of +the dance. There was no other light than that of the brush fires. A huge +circle of howling, chanting Indians had formed a wide ring in which a +dozen or more bucks and as many squaws were gathered. There seemed to be +no prearranged procedure. When one of the dancers would feel so +inclined, he, or she, would start a wild screeching and leaping about. +This would continue until the singer ran out of breath. Occasionally a +squaw would grow so enthused she would be quite overcome with emotion +and fall to the ground, foaming at the mouth. No notice would be taken +except to grab her by the hair and drag her to the edge of the circle. +The dance lasted until the gray dawn and was the most ghastly and weird +experience I ever went through. All I can compare it to is the nightmare +I used to have after too much mince pie. + +Safely back at our camp with a brisk fire crackling under a pot of +coffee, I began to throw off the shivering sensation, and by the time +the coffee pot was empty I was ready for new adventures. Word had gone +forth that I would buy all the baskets the squaws brought to me. I hoped +in this way to get some first-hand information about the feminine side +of affairs. Squaws and baskets and information poured in. Baskets of all +sizes and shapes were brought, some good, some bad, but I bought them +all. If I hesitated a moment over one the owner put the price down to a +few cents. Just a dime or two for a whole week's work. Time has no value +to them, and the creek banks are covered with the best willows in the +world for basket-making. The basket-making art is the only talent these +squaws have, while the bucks excel in tanning buckskin and other skins. +These they trade to the Navajo Indians for silver and blankets. Then +they race their ponies or gamble for the ownership of the coveted +blankets. How they do love to gamble! Horses, blankets, squaws--anything +and everything changes hands under the spell of the magic cards. Even +the squaws and children gamble for beads and bright-colored calico. When +a few pieces of real money are at stake, all is wild excitement. How +the black eyes snap, and how taut is every nerve! + +Their hewas are merely shelters of willow, and there is absolutely no +privacy about anything. Yet they are neither immoral nor unmoral. The +girls all marry very young. At the age of twelve or thirteen the girl is +chosen by some brave, who bargains with the father for her. A pony or +its value in buckskin will buy almost any father's favorite daughter. +But the girl is not forced to go with a lover whom she does not approve. +The marriage ceremony is not elaborate; after all preliminaries are +disposed of, the would-be bridegroom takes his blanket and moves into +the hewa of the girl's people. If two or three moons pass without any +quarrels between the young people, they move into a hewa of their own, +and thus it is known that they are married. Divorce is just as simple; +he merely sends her back to her father. An Indian brave of the Supai +tribe can have as many wives as he can buy according to the tribal law. +But since there is only about one squaw to every three braves, a man is +lucky to have any wife, and divorce is rare. When two or more braves +center their affections on one fair damsel, things are likely to happen. +But three Indian judges solemnly sit in council and settle the question. +Their solution is usually final, although two or three disgruntled +braves have journeyed to our home at El Tovar sixty miles away to appeal +to White Mountain for aid. + +The valley is fertile, and all sorts of fruits and vegetables thrive. In +fact the natives live on what they raise in their haphazard way. They +have a rude system of irrigation which carries water to every little +garden. One other thing grows in abundance there--dogs! Such a flock of +surly, mangy mongrels one would have to travel far to find. I don't know +what they live on, for I never saw one of them being fed. + +"Big sing tonight," said one of the squaws squatting by our campfire. + +"What is a sing, Dottie?" + +"Much sing and dance. Medicine man drive away bad spirit from blind +man." + +Of course we were present at the "sing," although I would never have +called it that. An old half-blind Indian afflicted with granulated +eyelids was the victim. The night was chilly, but he was clothed only in +a look of resignation. The medicine man had a shot-filled gourd, a bunch +of dried herbs, and an unlimited capacity for howling. First of all the +patient was given a "sweat bath." He was put into a little teepee made +of willows closely covered with burlap. Hot rocks were introduced and a +pan of water thrown on them. More rocks and more water went inside until +the poor Indian could stand it no longer. He came forth choking and +gasping with the perspiration running from him. Buckets of cold water +were then dashed over him and the medicine man got busy beating him over +the head with the bunch of herbs, keeping up an unearthly screeching. +This would last until morning, they said, but my interest flagged just +about the time the priest found his second wind, and I retired. + +Five beautiful waterfalls are scattered down the valley, and I was most +anxious to visit these. For some reason Wattahomigie hung back and we +had trouble in persuading him to take us there. He reluctantly +accompanied us when he saw we intended to go either with him or without. +His attitude was explained when we were well along the trail; some freak +of formation has made great sounding boxes of the Canyon, and these +gather the noises of the water and the wind and return them again in +shrieks of demoniacal laughter, barking of dogs, and sounds of talking +and singing. It is startling to say the least, and no amount of +explaining would convince Wattahomigie that it is not the revel hall of +departed Indian spirits. The sun is lost there at midday, and darkness +settles down soon after. + +We camped at Mooney Falls that night, so called on account of an +adventurous prospector of that name losing his life by falling over the +ledge there. It took ten months for his comrades to get equipment +together and recover his body, which they buried at the foot of the +falls. This place naturally holds no attraction for our Indian friends, +and we had literally to push them from under our feet. They almost sat +in the campfire, so determined were they to stay near us. + +The next day we started to Hilltop, with Big Jim and his squaw with us +as an escort of honor. Jim rode serenely along, while Mary trudged after +on foot. + +"Jim," said the Chief, "how is it that you ride and Mary walks?" + +Jim's voice was reproachfully astonished that anyone could be so dense: +"Mary, she no got um horse!" + +The Indians gathered to see us off. I looked at the faces before me. +Even the babies seemed hopeless and helpless. It is a people looking +backward down the years with no thought of the morrow. + +"Can't you get them to be more hopeful or cheerful? Won't they even try +to help themselves?" I asked Wattahomigie in desperation. He sadly shook +his head. + +"No help," he said; "plenty for today, maybe no tomorrow." + +And maybe he's right. Not many more morrows for that doomed tribe. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter X: WHERE THEY DANCE WITH SNAKES_[2] + + +A few days after our visit to Supai, Ranger Fisk dropped in. + +"Going to the Snake Dance?" he asked me. + +"What's a Snake Dance, and where is it?" + +"Oh, it's over in the Hopi Reservation, and the crazy redskins hop +around with rattlesnakes in their mouths so it'll rain." + +"I don't believe _that_. I'm going over and ask Joe about it," I +replied, indignant that Charlie would try to tell me anything so +improbable. + +I returned pretty soon from my visit to Joe, who is Chief of the Hopi +Indians. He made his home with the Spencers at the Hopi House, and we +were tried and true friends. + +"What did he say?" Both the Chief and Ranger Fisk hurled the question at +me. + +"He said rattlesnakes are their brothers and they carry messages to the +rain gods telling them of the need for rain in Hopi land. He didn't want +to tell me much about it. White Mountain, let's go. _Please!_" + +So we went. But before we started I managed to gather a little more +information about the yearly ceremony that is held in the Painted Desert +country. Joe told me that the Government at Washington was opposed to +their Snake Dance. He told me to bear in mind that water is the very +breath of life to the desert dwellers, and that while his people did not +like to oppose the agents placed there by the Government they certainly +intended to continue their dance. + +We loaded the flivver with food and water, since we knew our welcome +would be a shade warmer if we did not draw on the meager water supply in +the Reservation. We dropped down to Flagstaff, and there on every street +corner and in every store and hotel the Hopi Snake Dance was the main +subject of conversation. It seemed that everybody was going! + +We left the main road there and swung off across the desert for the Hopi +villages, built high on rocky mesas overlooking the surrounding country. +It was delightful during the morning coolness, but all too soon the sun +enveloped us. We met two or three Navajo men on their tough little +ponies, but they were sullen and refused to answer my waves to them. +While we repaired a puncture, a tiny Navajo girl in her full calico +skirt and small velvet basque drove her flock of sheep near and shyly +watched us. I offered her an apple and she shied away like a timid +deer. But candy was too alluring. She crept closer and closer, and then +I got sorry for her and placed it on a rock and turned my back. She lost +no time in grabbing the sweet and darting back to her flock. + +The road was badly broken up with coulees and dry washes that a heavy +rain would turn into embryo Colorados. I found myself hoping that the +Snake Dance prayer for rain would not "take" until we were safely back +over this road. + +Evening found us encamped at the foot of the high mesa upon which was +built the Hopi village where the dance would be held this year. Close +beside was the water hole that furnished the population with a scant +supply. It was a sullen, dripping, seeping spring that had nothing in +common with our gushing, singing springs of the Southern mountains. The +water was caught in a scooped-out place under the cliff, crudely walled +in with stones to keep animals away. Some stray cattle, however, had +passed the barrier and perished there, for their bones protruded from +the soft earth surrounding the pool. It was not an appetizing sight. +Rude steps were cut in the rocky trail leading to the pueblo dwellings +above two miles away, from whence came the squaws with big ollas to +carry the water. This spring was the gossiping ground for all the female +members of the mesa. They met there and laughed and quarreled and +slandered others just as we white women do over a bridge table. + +I found myself going to sleep with my supper untasted, and leaving White +Mountain to tidy up I went to bed with the sand for a mattress and the +stars for a roof. Some time in the night I roused sufficiently to be +glad that all stray rattlers, bull snakes, and their ilk were securely +housed in the kivas being prayed over by the priests. At dawn we +awakened to see half a score of naked braves dash by and lose themselves +in the blue-shadowed distance. While we had breakfast I spoke of the +runners. + +"Yes," said the Chief, "they are going out to collect the rattlesnakes." + +"Collect the rattlesnakes! Haven't they been garnered into the fold +yet?" + +"No, today they will be brought from the north, tomorrow from the west, +next day from the south, and last from the east." He glanced at me. +"Provided, of course, that they don't show up here of their own accord. +I _have_ heard that about this time of year every snake within a radius +of fifty miles starts automatically for the Snake Dance village." + +"Well, _I_ shall sleep in the car tomorrow night and the next night and +the next one, too." + +"Where will you sleep tonight?" + +"I'll not sleep. I intend to sit on top of the machine and see if any +snakes do come in by themselves. Not that I'm afraid of snakes," I +hastened to add; "but I'd hate to delay any pious-minded reptile +conscientiously bent on reaching the scene of his religious duties." + +We solved the difficulty by renting a room in one of the pueblo houses. + +We followed the two-mile trail up the steep cliff to Walpi and found +ourselves in a human aerie. Nobody knows how many centuries have passed +since this tribe first made their home where we found them now. Living +as they do in the very heart of a barren, arid waste, they control very +little land worth taking from them and have therefore been unmolested +longer than they otherwise would have been. They invite little attention +from tourists except during the yearly ceremonial that we had come to +witness. What _is_ this Snake Dance? The most spectacular and weird +appeal to the gods of Nature that has ever been heard of! + +To gain an understanding of what rain means to these Indians we had only +to live in their village the few days preceding the dance. They are +compelled to exist on the water from winter's melting snow and the +annual summer showers, which they catch in their rude cisterns and water +holes. One's admiration for this unconquerable tribe is boundless, as +the magnitude of their struggle for existence is comprehended. Choosing +the most inaccessible and undesirable region they could find in which to +make a determined and successful stand against the Spanish and the hated +friars, they have positively subjugated the desert. Its every resource +is known and utilized for their benefit. Is there an underground +irrigation that moistens the soil, they have searched it out and thrust +their seed corn into its fertile depths. The rocks are used to build +their houses; the cottonwood branches make ladders and supports for the +ceilings; the clay is fashioned into priceless pottery; grasses and +fiber from the yucca turn into artistic baskets under their skillful +fingers. Every drop of water that escapes from the springs nourishes +beans and pumpkins to be stored away for winter use. Practically every +plant on the desert is useful to them, either for their own needs or as +food for their goats and burros. + +We knew and were known by many of the younger members of the tribe who +had visited at the Grand Canyon, so we found a warm welcome and ready +guides in our stroll around the village. + +The Hopi Indians are friendly and pleasant. They always respond to a +greeting with a flashing smile and a cheery wave of the hand. This is +not the way the sullen Navajos greet strangers. We saw many of that +nomad tribe walking around the Hopi village. They were just as curious +as we were about this snake dance. + +"Do the Navajos believe your dance will make the rain come?" I asked a +young Hopi man who was chatting with the Chief. + +"Oh, yes. They believe." + +"Well, why don't you Hopis make them pay for their share of the rain you +bring. It falls on their Reservation." That was a new thought to the +Hopi and we left him staring over the desert, evidently pondering. I +hope I didn't plant the seed that will lead to a desert warfare! + +I watched with fascinated eyes the antics of round, brown babies playing +on the three-story housetops. I expected every instant that one would +come tumbling off, but nobody else seemed to worry about them. On one +housetop an aged Hopi was weaving a woolen dress for his wife. What a +strange topsy-turvy land this was--where the men do the weaving and the +wives build the houses. For the women do build those houses. They are +made from stone brought up from the desert far below, and then they are +thickly plastered with a mixture of adobe and water. Many families live +in the same pueblo, but there are no openings from one room to another. +Each house has its own entrance. There are generally three stories to +each pueblo, the second one set back eight or ten feet on the roof of +the first, and the third a like distance on the top of the second. This +forms a terrace or balcony where many household duties are performed. + +I noticed that one pueblo was completely fenced in with head and foot +pieces of ornate iron beds! Evidently the Government had at some time +supplied each family with a bed and they had all passed into the hands +of this enterprising landscape engineer. The houses we peeped into were +bare of furniture with the exception of a Singer sewing machine. I +venture to say there was one in every home up there. Many family groups +were eating meals, all sitting in a circle around the food placed in +dishes on the floor. It was difficult to see what they were serving, on +account of the swarms of flies that settled on everything around. I saw +corn on the ear, and in many places a sort of bean stew. Where there was +a baby to be cared for, the oldest woman in the family sat apart and +held it while the others ate. One old grandmother called my attention to +the child she had on her lap. He was a big-eyed, shrunken mite, strapped +flat to his board carrier. The day was broiling hot, but she motioned me +to touch his feet. "Sick," she said. His tiny feet were like chunks of +ice. It was a plain case of malnutrition, and what could I do to help, +in the few days I was to be there? + +Many of the school boys and girls from boarding-schools were home for +vacation, but they knew little or nothing about the meaning of the +different dances and ceremonies that were going on in a dozen +underground kivas in the village. One pretty maiden with marvelous +masses of gleaming black hair volunteered to help us interview her +uncle, an old Snake Priest, about his religion. We found "Uncle" +lounging in the sunshine, mending his disreputable moccasins. He was not +an encouraging subject as he sat there with only a loin cloth by way of +haberdashery. He welcomed us as royally, however, as if he wore a king's +robes, and listened courteously while the girl explained our errand. + +If there is a more difficult feat in the world than extracting +information from a reluctant Indian I have never come across it. We gave +up at last, and waited to see what was going to happen. + +The exact date of the dance is determined by the Snake Priest, and +announced from the housetops nine days before it takes place. The +underground "kivas" are filled with the various secret orders, +corresponding to our lodges, going through their mystic ceremonies. From +the top of the ladder that extends above the kiva opening, a bunch of +turkey feathers hung, notifying outsiders that lodge was in session and +that no visitors would be welcome. + +What candles and a cross mean to good Catholics, feathers mean to a +Hopi. Flocks of turkeys are kept in the village for the purpose of +making "bahos," or prayer sticks. These little pleas to spirits are +found stuck all over the place. If a village is particularly blessed, +they have a captive eagle anchored to a roof. And this bird is +carefully fed and watered in order that its supply of feathers may not +fail. + +Days before the dance, the young men are sent out to bring in the +snakes. Armed with a little sacred meal, feathers, a long forked stick, +and a stout sack, they go perhaps twenty miles from the village. When a +snake is located dozing in the sun, he is first sprinkled with the +sacred meal. If he coils and shows fight the ever trusty feather is +brought into play. He is stroked and soothed with it, and pretty soon he +relaxes and starts to crawl away. Quick as a flash he is caught directly +behind the head and tucked away in the sack with his other objecting +brethren. Every variety of snake encountered is brought in and placed in +the sacred kiva. + +The legend on which they so firmly base their belief in snake magic is +this: + +An adventurous Hopi went on a journey to find the dwelling-place of the +Rain God, so that he might personally present their plea for plenty of +showers. He floated down the Colorado until he was carried into the +Underworld. There he met with many powerful gods, and finally the Snake +God taught him the magic of making the rain fall on Hopi fields. They +became fast friends, and when the Hopi returned to his home the Snake +God presented him with his two daughters, one for a wife to the Hopi's +brother, who belonged to the Antelope Clan, and the other to become his +own bride. When the weddings took place all the snake brothers of the +brides attended, and a great dance was made in their honor. Since that +time a yearly dance and feast is held for the snakes, and they then +descend to their Snake God father and tell him the Hopis still need +rain. + +While the men garner snakes and perform in the kivas, the women are not +idle. Far from it! Pottery-makers are busy putting the last touches of +paint on their pottery, and basket makers add the last row of weaving to +the baskets. These wares are displayed in every doorway and window, +where they are most likely to catch the tourist eye. The best specimens +are not put out for sale. I believe the attitude is, "Why place pearls +before swine?" + +Houses are swept, and new plaster is applied inside and out. The girls +chatter over their grinding stones, where they crush the meal for making +"piki." Others mix and bake this piki, and it is piled high on flat +baskets. It is made of cornmeal and water, and is baked on hot flat +stones. The stone is first greased with hot mutton tallow, then the cook +dips her fingers into the mixture and with one swift swipe spreads it +evenly over the scorching surface. How they escape blistered fingers is +always a marvel to me. + +Squaws are wearily climbing the steep trail with heavy ollas of water on +their backs, held there by a shawl knotted around their foreheads. +Others pass them going to the spring, where they sit and gossip a while +before starting back with their burdens. It takes about the last of the +hoarded water to prepare for the dance, since religion demands that +every house and street be sprinkled and each and every Hopi must have +his yearly bath and shampoo. + +I found a pretty girl having her hair put up in squash blossoms for the +first time. Her mother told me she was ready to choose her husband now, +and that the hairdress would notify the young braves to that effect. In +Hopi land the girl chooses her own husband, proposes, and then takes him +to live in her house. If she tires of him she throws his belongings out, +and _he_ "goes back to mother!" After the Snake Dance my little girl +would make her choice. I tried to get advance information, but she +blushed and giggled like any other flapper. + +The old men were going to and from the planting grounds, many miles away +in the valley. They went at a sort of dog trot, unless one was rich +enough to own a burro; in that case it did the dog trotting. After the +fields are planted, brush shelters are built and the infirm members of +the tribe stay there to protect the fields from rabbits and burros. Who +could blame a hungry little burro for making away with a luscious hill +of green corn in the midst of a barren desert? And yet if he is caught +he has to pay, literally--one of his ears for the ear of corn he has +eaten. Very few Hopi burros retain their original couple of ears. + +The agents say that the time and strength consumed by the Indians in +going to and from their fields, and in carrying water up to the village, +could better be spent cultivating the crops. Therefore, many attempts +have been made to move the Hopis from their lofty homes on the crags to +Government houses on the level below. But they steadfastly refuse to be +moved. + +Stand at the mesa edge and look out across the enchanting scene. To the +far south the snow-crowned San Francisco peaks rear their lofty heights. +To the north and east the sandy desert stretches away in heart-breaking +desolation, relieved only by the tiny green patches of peach trees and +corn fields. The blazing sun beats down appallingly. A purple haze +quivers over the world. But evening comes, and as the sun drops out of +sight a pink glow spreads over the eastern sky, giving a soft radiance +to the landscape below. Soon this desert glow fades, and shadows creep +nearer and nearer, until one seems to be gazing into the sooty depths of +a midnight sea. Turn again toward the village. Firelight darts upward +and dies to a glow; soft voices murmur through the twilight; a carefree +burst of laughter comes from a group of returned school children. + +It suddenly dawns on one that this is the home of these people, their +home as it was their fathers' and their fathers' home before them. They +are contented and happy. Why leave their sun-kissed, wind-swept heights, +seven thousand feet high, for the scorching desert below? + +The village was seething at the first hint of dawn on the day of the +actual snake dance. Crowding the dizzy mesa edges were masses of Indians +and whites drawn there for the ceremony. Somewhere, far below, through +the desert dawn, a score of young men were running the grilling race to +reach the village. The first to arrive would secure the sacred token +bestowed by the Head Priest. This would insure fruitful crops from his +planting next year and, perhaps more important, the most popular girl in +the village would probably choose him for a husband. We stood near our +squash-blossom girl, and the progress of the race was written on her +face. I knew her choice was among the runners, and when the first one to +arrive darted, panting, up to the priest and grasped the token, I knew +who was her choice! + +The white visitors spent the forenoon strolling around the mesa, tasting +Hopi food, feeding candy to the naked, roly-poly babies, or bargaining +with visiting Navajos for rugs and silver jewelry. French, Spaniards, +Mexicans, Germans, Americans, and Indians jostled each other +good-naturedly. Cowboys, school teachers, moving-picture men, reporters, +missionaries, and learned doctors were all there. One eminent doctor +nudged the Chief gleefully and displayed a small flask he had hidden +under his coat. I wondered if he had fortified himself with liquor in +case of snakebite. He surely had! And how? He had heard for years of the +secret antidote that is prepared by the Snake Priest and his wife, to be +used all during the nine days the snakes are being handled. He traveled +there from Chicago to secure a sample of that mixture. He found the +ready ear of a Hopi youth, who supplied him with a generous sample in +return for five dollars. The doctor was satisfied, for the time being, +and so was the mischief-loving kid. He told us a few minutes later that +he had sold seven such samples on the Q.T. and that he was going to have +to mix up another brew! "What are you selling them?" I asked, trying to +be as stern as possible. "Water we all washed in," he said, and we both +had a good laugh. + +At noon the snakes were taken from the big jars and washed in other +ollas of water. This is a matter of politeness. Since the snake brothers +cannot wash themselves, it must be done for them. + +The middle of the afternoon found the crowd choosing places of vantage +for the Snake Dance, which would begin just before sundown and last +perhaps half an hour. Owners of houses were charging a dollar a seat on +their roofs, and they could have sold many more seats had there been +room for them. + +Scarcely a person seemed to realize that they were there to witness a +religious ceremony and that to the Indians it was as sacred as could be +any High Church service. Shouting and cheering, they waited for the +dancers to appear. + +Finally a naked Indian, painted white and black and red, with a lot of +strung shells draped over his chest, appeared, carrying the olla of +snakes. These he deposited in a hut built of willow boughs with a +bearskin for a door. + +Following him came twenty priests painted as he was, each with a loin +cloth and a coyote skin hanging from the cloth behind. These went around +the circle seven times, which seems to be the mystic number used in all +these ceremonies. They chanted a weird, wordless tune all the time. Then +they gathered in front of the kiva, where the snakes could be heard +keeping up a constant dull rattling, and chanted this same tune seven +times, stamping on the boards that covered the opening to the +Underworld, in order that the gods down there might know they were on +the job. One priest had a piece of board on the end of a strong string +and every so often he would step out in front of the others and whirl +and whiz that board around until it wailed like a lost soul. _That_ was +the wind before the rain! + +A priest entered the snake kiva and passed a snake out to a priest +dancer. The dancer placed this big rattler in his mouth and began the +circle. Close beside him danced a companion called the "hugger." This +protecting Indian kept one arm around the dancer's shoulders and his +other hand occupied with a bunch of feathers with which he kept the +snake's head from coming too close to the dancer's face. Entirely around +the ring they went until the starting-place had been reached, when, with +a quick, sharp jerk of his head, the dancer threw the snake into the +center of the plaza. It lay there coiled, sputtering, and rattling in +rage for a moment, then started to glide away. Quick as a flash a +"gatherer" snatched him up and twirled him around his arm. + +As soon as the first dancer was rid of his snake he went for another, +and we noticed that he was always given rattlers. Some of the other +priests had thin, nervous whip snakes; some had big, sluggish bull +snakes; but at least eighty per cent of the snakes were active, angry +rattlers. The first dancer was an old man, gray-headed, and rather +stooped. He had a poor hugger, for at least three times during the dance +the hugger let a rattler strike the old priest. Once the priest flinched +with pain and let the snake loose from his mouth. It hung on to his +cheek with its fangs firmly implanted, and at last he tore him loose +with both hands. The blood spurted from the wound, and a Hopi man beside +me made a nervous clucking sound. + +"Will he die from that bite?" I asked the Hopi. + +"I think not. Maybe. I don't know." And I'm sure he didn't know any more +about it than I did. But the old fellow continued with his dancing as if +nothing had happened. At last about eighty snakes had been danced with +and were now writhing, animated bouquets in the hands of the gatherers. +A squaw came out and made a circle of sacred meal. Into this all the +snakes were dumped, and more meal was sprinkled on them. Then each +carrier, of which there were four, gathered all the snakes he could +grasp by thrusting his arms into the squirming mass, and one carrier +departed in each direction. We watched one running swiftly down the +cliff until he reached the level desert, where he dumped his cargo, and +came back to the plaza. There he and his other returned companions lined +up on the edge of the mesa and drank a big draught of the secret +preparation prepared by the Snake Priest and his wife. Then they let +nature take its course. Such a heaving, vomiting set of redskins you +never saw! + +This little chore attended to, they removed their paint and prepared to +join in the feast and dancing that would last through the night. + +Before I left I hunted up the old Snake Priest and pressed him for an +explanation of why the snake bites did not harm them. This is what he +told me. + +"We do not extract the fangs. We do not cause the snakes to bite at +things and exhaust their poison. We do not stupefy them with drugs as +you could well see. But we do cleanse the priests so thoroughly that the +poison cannot take hold. For nine days they fast, partaking of no food, +and only of herb drinks prepared by our wise ones. They have many sweat +baths and get the harmful fluids out of their blood. They have +absolutely no fear of the snakes, and convey to them no nervousness or +anger. Just before the dance they have a big drink of the herb brew, and +they are painted thickly with an ointment that contains herbs that kill +snake poison. Then after the dance, the emetic. That is all." + +"How many of your tribe know of this secret preparation?" + +"Only two. Myself and my squaw. Should I die my squaw tell the secret to +my son. When my squaw die he teach _his_ squaw." + +Probably because this dance is staged at the time of year the rains are +due in Arizona, it is seldom that twenty-four hours elapse after the +dance before a downpour arrives. Hopi Snake Priests are good weather +prophets! + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter XI: THE TERRIBLE BADGER FIGHT_ + + +When winter ends, spring comes with a rush at the Canyon, and flowers +pop up over night. They follow the melting snow until the hills are +covered with flaming paintbrushes and tender blue lupine. Greasewood and +manzanita put out fragrant, waxy blossoms, and wild pinks and Mariposa +lilies hedge the trails. + +Encouraged by the glorious display of wild flowers, I planned, with more +enthusiasm than judgment, to have a real flower garden beside our new +house. + +I built a low rock wall around the space I had selected, and piled it +full of rich black loam as fine as any green-house could afford. Father +had sent seeds from the old garden at home, and various friends had +contributed from their gardens in the East. These seeds had been planted +in boxes which I kept near the stove until frost was gone. They were +full of promising plants. Hollyhocks, larkspur, pansies, and foxglove +were ready to transplant, when a terrible catastrophe occurred--a little +neighbor girl called on me, and, finding me gone, was right peeved. She +entertained herself by uprooting my posies. With a complete thoroughness +she mixed plants and dirt together, stirring water into the mixture with +my trowel. If her grown-up cake-making is done as conscientiously as was +that job, she'll be a wonderful pastry cook! I discovered the mischief +while it was still fresh, and out of the wreckage salvaged a few brave +seedlings. They pouted awhile before they took heart, and root, but +finally perked up again. Time healed their wounds and if an ambitious +squirrel hadn't been looking for a place to hide a nut I might still +have taken prizes in the state fair. As it was, only a very few sturdy +plants lived to grace the garden. They flourished, and I had begun to +look in their direction without crossing my fingers when a hungry cow +and her yearling boy appeared on the scene. + +"Help yourself, son!" Ma cow said, suiting her actions to the advice +given. + +Midsummer found a lonely cactus and a horned toad blooming in my garden. + +The weather got hotter and more hot, and my bird bath was duly +appreciated by the feathered population. They gathered there in flocks, +and the news went far and wide that water was to be had at the Chief's +house. All the birds that had been fed during the winter brought their +aunts, uncles, and cousins seventy times seven removed, until all I had +to do was lie in my hammock and identify them from a book with colored +plates. + +White Mountain's special pet was a tiny chickadee. This fragile little +speck of birddom fluttered into the house one stormy day, and the Chief +warmed it in his hands and fed it warm milk and crumbs. From that day on +it belonged, brave soul and wee body, to him. As the days grew warmer it +spent its time somewhere in the forest, but at mealtime when the Chief +came home all he had to do was step outside the door and whistle. Out of +the sky a diminutive atom would hurl itself downward to light on his +outstretched palm. While we ate it would perch on White Mountain's +shoulder and twitter and make soft little noises in its throat, now and +then coming across to me but soon returning to its idol. There was +something so touching in the confidence of the helpless bird, it brought +a tight feeling into one's throat. + +At the height of the drought a national railroad strike was called, and +for a few weeks things looked serious for us poor mortals stranded a +hundred miles from our water supply. Life took a backward leap and we +lived as our forefathers did before us. No water meant no light except +oil lamps, and when the oil supply failed we went to bed at dark. +Flashlights were carefully preserved for emergencies. We learned that +tomato juice will keep life in the body even if it won't quench thirst. + +There was one well four miles away, and rangers were stationed there to +see that nothing untoward happened to that supply. The water was drawn +with a bucket, and it was some job to water all the park animals. +Visitors were at that time barred from the Park, but one sage-brusher +managed to get in past the sentry. He camped at Headquarters and sent +his ten-year-old boy walking to Rowe Well to fill a pail with water and +carry it back. Just before dark that night the Chief and I coming in +from Hilltop met the little fellow, courageously struggling along eight +miles from Headquarters and getting farther away every step. His bucket +was leaky, and little of the precious water remained. We took him back +to the well again, filled his bucket, and delivered him to his father. +The lad pulled a dime from his pocket and extended it toward the Chief. + +"You keep it, son," said White Mountain. + +"Better take it, Mister. You hauled me quite a ways." + +The Chief leaned toward him confidentially. "You see it's like this. I +work for the Government and Uncle Sam doesn't like for us to take tips." + +And so the matter rested. The boy had discharged his obligation like a +gentleman. He didn't know he had offered the Chief Ranger a dime for +saving his life. + +A few stray I. W. W.'s ("I Won't Works," the rangers called them) came +in to see that nobody did anything for the Santa Fe. Of course the +rangers were put on for guard duty around the railroad station and power +house, day and night, and the fact that they protected the railroad's +property at odd hours did not relieve them from their own regular duties +the rest of the time. For weeks they did the work of three times their +actual number, and did it cheerfully. It finally became necessary to +import Indians from the Navajo Reservation to help with the labor around +the car yard and the boiler yard. These could hardly be described as +having a mechanical turn of mind, but they were fairly willing workers, +and with careful supervision they managed to keep steam up and the +wheels turning. The shop foreman, however, was threatened with apoplexy +a dozen times a day during their term of service. + +When it seemed that we just couldn't endure any more, some boss +somewhere pulled a string and train service was resumed. This brought in +a mass of tourists, and the rangers were on the alert again to keep them +out of messes. + +One day as the Chief and I were looking at some picturegraphs near the +head of Bright Angel Trail we saw a simple old couple wandering +childlike down the trail. + +"You mustn't go far down the trail," advised White Mountain. "It's very +hot today, and you would not be able to make the return trip. It's lots +harder coming back, you know." + +The old folks smiled and nodded, and we went on home. About midnight the +phone rang, and the Chief groaned before he answered it. A troubled +voice came over the wire. + +"My father and mother went down the trail to the river and haven't come +back. I want the rangers to go and find them," said their son. + +"In the morning," replied the Chief. + +"Right _now_!" ordered the voice. + +"I, myself, told your father and mother not to go down there. They went +anyway. They are probably sitting on a rock resting, and if so they are +safe. If they are not on the trail the rangers could not find them, and +I have no right to ask my men to endanger their lives by going on such a +wild-goose chase." + +The son, a middle-aged man, acted like a spoiled child. He threatened +and blustered and raved until the Chief hung up the receiver. At dawn +the rangers went after the two old babes in the wood and found them +creeping slowly up the trail. + +"Ma give out," puffed the husband. + +"Pa was real tuckered hisself," explained Ma. "But we had a nice time +and we'll know to do what we're told next time." She was a game old +sport. Son was speedily squelched by Ma's firm hand, and the adventure +ended. Ma confessed to me that she had sat through the night in deadly +fear of snakes, catamounts, and other "varmints," but, with a twinkle in +her eye: "Don't you dare tell them men folks I was a-scairt!" I knew +just how she felt. + +Everything was up in the air over the Fourth of July celebration that we +intended to stage. It was to be a combination of Frontier Days, Wild +West Show, and home talent exhibition. Indians came from the various +reservations; cow-hands drifted in from the range; tourists collected +around the edges; the rangers were there; and every guide that could be +spared from the trail bloomed out in gala attire. We women had cooked +enough grub to feed the crowd, and there was a barrel of lemonade, over +which a guard was stationed to keep the Indians from falling in head +first. + +The real cowboys, unobtrusive in their overalls and flannel shirts, +teetered around on their high-heeled tight boots and gazed open-mouthed +at the flamboyance of the Fred Harvey imitations. Varied and unique +remarks accompanied the scrutiny. Pretty soon they began to nudge each +other and snicker, and I saw more than one of them in consultation with +the rangers. I felt in my bones that mischief was brewing. + +The usual riding and roping and tying stunts were pulled off, and in the +afternoon the Indians were challenged to race horses with the white +boys. The race was for half a mile and back, around the curve of a +hillside. Off they went amid the wildest war-whoops and cowboy yells I +ever heard. The Indians had the advantage, since they burdened their +mounts with neither saddle nor bridle. Stretched flat along the pony's +back, the rider guided him by knee pressure and spurred him to victory +by whistling shrilly in a turned back ear. I was amused to see how the +wily Indians jockeyed for the inside of the track, and they always got +it too. Not a white man's horse won a dollar in the race. It might have +been different, probably would have, in an endurance race, for Indian +horses are swift only in short runs. They never have grain, and few of +them have as much water as they need. + +Just before the sports ended, White Mountain announced that some of the +cowboys had brought a badger into Headquarters with them and that they +had another one located. If they succeeded in capturing it, there would +be a badger fight at the Fred Harvey mess hall that night--provided no +gambling or betting was done. Since the show was to be put on by the +cowboys, they themselves should have the honor of picking the men +fortunate enough to hold the ropes with which the badgers would be tied. +Among the rangers broke out a frenzied dispute as to which ones should +be chosen. That was more than the guides could stand for. No ranger +could put that over on _them_. They pushed in and loudly demanded their +rights from the owners of the fightin' badgers. In fair play to both +sides, Frank Winess was chosen from the ranger force and a sheik +stage-driver, newly arrived, represented Fred Harvey. The guides were +forced to be satisfied with this arrangement. We disbanded to meet at +seven for the fight. In case the other badger made good his escape we +could still have a look at the one already in captivity and the evening +would not be wasted. + +"Better wear your riding boots," Ranger Winess advised me. "Badgers +scratch and fight like forty, and you know your failing when it comes to +getting into the middle of a bad fix." I didn't reply to this, but I put +on my high boots. + +At seven we reached the scene of battle. I was not entirely pleased with +the idea of letting two frantic animals scratch each other to death, but +the Chief seemed quite serene and I had the utmost confidence in his +kindness to dumb animals. Two or three hundred onlookers, including +tourists, were circled around an open space, which was lighted with +automobile headlights. Under each of two big wooden boxes at opposite +sides of the circle, a combatant lay. + +"Stand well back," ordered the Chief. And the crowd edged away. "Hey, +you, Billy, I said no betting!" Billy Joint hastily pocketed the roll of +bills he had been airing. + +"What's wrong, Frank?" For Ranger Winess limped into the ring, flinching +at every step. + +"Nothin', Chief," bravely trying to cover up the pain with a grin. + +"I asked you what's the matter!" + +"Well, gee whiz, if you have to know everything, one of them broncs +piled up with me this afternoon, and I busted my knee." + +The Chief felt sorry for Frank, because he knew how his heart was set on +the sport in hand. + +"Sorry, Winess, but you'll have to step out and let Charley take your +place." + +Ranger Fisk began to protest: "Gee, Chief, I ain't a fightin' man. I +don't hanker to hold that tearing varmint." Frank was too crushed to say +anything. But Shorty--in the foremost ranks stood Shorty! No guide so +wonderfully chapped, so brightly handkerchiefed, so amazingly shirted, +or so loudly perfumed as Shorty. He had a tourist girl on his manly arm +and he longed for worlds to conquer. + +He advanced with a firm and determined tread. "Look here, Chief Ranger. +Your man has been disqualified. The rangers have had their chance. It's +up to us guides now. I demand the right to enter this ring." + +The Chief considered the matter. He looked at the rangers, and after a +few mutters they sullenly nodded. + +"All right, Shorty. But you are taking all responsibility. Remember, +whatever happens you have made your own choice. Charley, you and Frank +look out for Margie. You know how foolish she is. She's likely to get +all clawed up." + +I was mad enough to bite nails into tacks! Foolish! Look out for _me_! +He was getting awfully careful of me all of a sudden. I jerked my arm +loose from Ranger Fisk when he tried to lead me back from the front, +and he reluctantly stayed beside me there. + +The pretty stage-driver was nervous. With his gloved hand he kept +smoothing his hair back and he shifted from one foot to the other, while +he grasped the rope firmly. As for Shorty, he was entirely unconcerned, +as became a brave bold man. He merely traded his sheepskin chaps for a +pair of silver-studded leather ones. Then he clamped his wide sombrero +firmly on his head and declared himself ready. + +"Jerk quick and hard when we raise the boxes," the referee directed. "If +they see each other at once, you boys aren't so liable to get bit up." + +"Jerk them out," bellowed Frank. + +They jerked. The onlookers gasped; then howled! then _roared_!! + +The gladiators fled! Nor stood on the order of their going. + +In the middle of the ring, firmly anchored to the ropes, were two +articles of crockery well known to our grand-mothers in the days when +the plumbing was all outside. + +So ended the Glorious Fourth. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter XII: GRAND CANYON UPS AND DOWNS_[3] + + +I was busy baking pies one morning when White Mountain sauntered into +the kitchen and stood watching me. "How soon can you be ready to start +across the Canyon?" he asked, as carelessly as though I had not been +waiting for that priceless moment nearly two years. + +"How soon?" I was already untying my apron. "Right _now_!" + +"Oh, not that sudden. I mean can you be ready to start in the morning?" + +And with no more ceremony than that my wonderful adventure was launched. +Long before dawn the next morning I was up and dressed in breeches, wool +shirt, laced boots, and a wide felt hat, and felt like a full-fledged +"dude." The Chief had insisted that I should ride a mule, but I had my +own notions about that and "Supai Bob" was my mount. This was an Indian +racing horse, and the pride of Wattahomigie's heart, but he cheerfully +surrendered him to me whenever I had a bad trail to ride. He was high +from the ground, long-legged, long-necked and almost gaunt, but gentle +and sure-footed. + +We left El Tovar before anybody was stirring and while the depths of the +Canyon were still lost in darkness. At the head of the trail I +involuntarily pulled up short. "Leave hope behind all ye who enter +here," flashed through my brain. Dante could have written a much more +realistic _Inferno_ had he spent a few days in the Grand Canyon +absorbing local color. Far below, the trail wound and crawled, losing +itself in purple shadows that melted before the sun as we descended. The +world still slept, with the exception of a few saucy jays who flew about +us loudly claiming the heavens, the earth, and the waters beneath, +should there be any. Two hours of steady descent brought us to the base +of the red-wall limestone. In that two hours we had passed from the belt +of pine and shrub to the one of sagebrush and cactus. Half an hour +farther, and we arrived at Indian Gardens, a clump of willows and +cottonwoods shading a stream of cold bubbling water from a never-failing +spring. This little stream is full of delicious watercress, and more +than once on festive occasions a ranger had gone down and brought back a +supply to garnish the turkey. Not until I made the ride myself could I +appreciate his service. At one time this spot was cultivated by the +Havasupai Indians; hence the name. Every dude that has followed a Fred +Harvey guide down the trail remembers this God-given oasis with +gratitude. Water and shade and a perfectly good excuse for falling out +of the saddle! No flopping mule ears; no toothache in both knees; no +yawning void reaching up for one. Ten whole minutes in Paradise, and +there's always a sporting chance that Gabriel may blow his horn, or an +apoplectic stroke rescue one, before the heartless guide yells: "All +aboard." + +We filled our canteens from the spring, for this is really the last good +water until the bridge is crossed, and rode across the Tonto Trail along +the plateau for five miles, through sagebrush, cactus, and yucca. Here +and there a chuckwalla darted across the trail or a rock squirrel sat on +his haunches and scolded as we passed. Nothing broke the monotony of the +ride. At one point on the ride the trail hangs over the edge of Pipe +Creek, a mere little chasm two thousand feet deep. Anywhere else this +crevice between sheer walls of blackened, distorted, jagged rocks would +be considered one of the original Seven Wonders. Placed as it is, one +tosses it a patronizing glance, stifles a yawn, and rides on. A mile or +so along we crossed a trickle of water coming from Wild Burro Springs, +so named because the burros common to this region come there to drink. +Just as we drew rein to allow our horses to quench their thirst, the +sultry silence was shattered beyond repair. Such a rasping, choking, +jarring sound rolled and echoed back and forth from crag to crag! +"What's that?" I gasped, after I had swallowed my heart two or three +times. The Chief pointed to a rock lying a few feet away. Over the top +of this an enormous pair of ears protruded, and two big, solemn eyes +were glued on us unblinkingly. It was only a wee wild burro, but what a +large voice he owned! The thousand or more of these small gray and black +animals are a heritage from the day of the prospector. Some of them are +quite tame. One called "Bright Angel" was often utilized by tourists as +a mount while they had pictures snapped to take to the admiring family +left behind. + +We passed on across the plateau and rounded O'Neill Butte, named for +Bucky O'Neill, one of Roosevelt's Rough Riders killed at San Juan Hill, +and we suddenly came to the "sure 'nuff" jumping-off place at the edge +of Granite Gorge. One should have at least a week's warning before this +scene is thrown upon the screen. I think it was here that Irvin Cobb +tendered his resignation--effective immediately. Straight down, fifteen +hundred feet beneath one, flows the Colorado. There are no words to +describe this. One must see it for one's self. Down, down, back and +forth zigzags that trail, jumping from crag to crag and mesa to mesa, +finally running on to the mere thread suspended from wall to wall high +above the sullen brown torrent. When once started down this last lap of +the journey riverward, one finds that the trail is a great deal smoother +than that already traveled. But the bridge! Picture to yourself a +four-foot wooden road, four hundred and twenty feet long, fenced with +wire, and slung on steel cables fifty feet above a rushing muddy river, +and you will see what I was supposed to ride across. My Indian horse +stopped suddenly, planted himself firmly--and looked. I did likewise. + +"Those cables look light," I said, seeking some excuse to stay right +where I was. But the Chief calmly informed me that they were "heavy +enough." I presume he should know, having helped to carry them down that +twelve-mile trail. Pride alone prevented me from turning and fleeing +back up that steep trail like a fly up a wall. I looked at White +Mountain. He was riding serenely on, never doubting my close attendance +at his horse's heels. I told myself that I had undoubtedly reached a +bridge that _had_ to be crossed, and so I spoke firmly, or as firmly as +possible under the circumstances, to Supai Bob. No results. Bob was as +unresponsive as any other Indian when he doesn't want to "savvy." I +coaxed, I pulled, I pushed. I spanked with a board. Bob was not +interested in what was across the river. Then and there I formed a high +regard for that pony's sound judgment and will-power. At last the Chief +looked back and saw my predicament. He turned his horse loose to +continue across alone and came back over the wildly swaying bridge to +me. + +"What's the matter?" + +Just as if he couldn't well see! I glared at him and he grinned. + +"Why don't you talk to him in Supai language?" + +"Speak to him yourself," I snapped and stalked out on that heaving +horror. I never learned the details of the conversation, but a clatter +of hoofs sounded behind me and Bob anchored his nose against my +shoulder, there to remain until terra firma was regained. I worried all +the rest of the way over and back about having to get him across again, +but returning, he walked on to the bridge as if crossing it were his +life work. + +On the north end of the bridge where the cables are anchored is a +labyrinth of trails crossing and recrossing. The Chief explained that +Bright Angel, the little wild burro, had made those at a time when high +water had marooned him on that small area. While the bridge was being +built he hung around constantly, and when it was completed he was the +first animal allowed to cross it. I wonder what he thought of the +promised land he had gazed at so longingly for years. Poor Brighty fell +a victim to a tramp who refused to listen to advice, and crossed to the +North Rim after the snows had come. Perhaps he had reasons for hiding +away, but he took little Brighty from his winter home in the bottom of +the Canyon to carry his pack for him. After being snowed in for several +weeks in a cattle cabin several miles back from the Rim, Brighty died of +starvation and was eaten by the man. Brighty had plenty of friends that +miss him when they go down into the Canyon, and it will fare badly with +his murderer if any of the rangers or guides see him again. + +Beside the trail, just across the bridge, is a prehistoric ruin. When +Major Powell landed there on his first trip down the Colorado River in +1869, he found broken pottery, an old "matate" and many chipped flints, +indicating that this had been the home of an arrowmaker. The mealing +stone, or matate, can be seen at Phantom Ranch, half a mile on along the +trail. + +And just at this point of the trip we came to a tragic spot, the one +where Rees Griffith lies buried beside his own well-built trail. It had +been in the dead of winter when Rees was buried there by his friends, +and now the summer's scorching sun was streaming down on his grave. The +colorful lines of the half-breed Deprez drifted through my mind: + + And there he lies now, and nobody knows; + And the summer shines, and the winter snows, + And the little gray hawk floats aloft in the air, + And the gray coyote trots about here and there, + And the buzzard sails on, + And comes back and is gone, + Stately and still like a ship on the sea; + And the rattlesnake slides and glitters and glides + Into his rift in a cottonwood tree. + +Just that lonely and already forgotten was the resting-place of the +master trail-builder. + +It was noontime now, and all our grub, with the exception of a box of +crackers and a jar of fig jam, likewise our bedding, was far ahead on a +pack mule which had decided not to stop for lunch or dinner. Since we +were not consulted in the matter we lunched on jam and crackers and then +dined on crackers and jam. We hung the remainder of the feast in a tree +and breakfasted on it a week later on our return trip. + +When one tries to describe the trail as it was to the North Rim in those +days, words prove weak. The first twelve miles we had already traveled +are too well known to need description; the remaining twenty--all +rebuilt since that time--defy it. Sometimes the trail ran along in the +creek bed for yards and yards. This made it impassable during the spring +freshets. Arizona horses are trained to drink at every opportunity for +fear there may never be another chance, and our mounts had learned +their lesson well. They tried to imbibe at every crossing, and long +after they were loaded to the gunwales they dipped greedy noses into the +current. + +Six miles north of the river we turned aside from the main trail and +followed a path a few rods to Ribbon Falls. We had intended to spend the +night there, and I supposed we were to sleep standing up; but there was +Chollo, our prodigal pack mule, who had found a luscious patch of grass +near the Falls and decided to make it her first stopping-place. In that +manner we recovered the bedding roll. White Mountain murmured a few +sweet nothings into her innocent ear and anchored her firmly to a stake. +That didn't please her at all. She complained loudly to her wild +brethren, and they sympathized in heart-comforting brays from all points +near at hand. Our horses were given grain and turned into the grassy +cove, and supper was prepared. And while the coffee boiled we had a +refreshing swim in Nature's bathtub at the bottom of the Falls. High +above, the crystal stream bursts forth from the red cliff and falls in a +sparkling cascade seventy feet, to strike against a big rock upholstered +in softest green. Here it forms a morning-glory pool of almost icy +coolness. Hot coffee and bacon with some of White Mountain's famous +biscuits baked in a reflector tasted like a feed at Sherry's. I watched +the Chief mix his biscuits while I lay resting against the piled-up +saddles. I wondered how he intended to cook them, but managed to keep +still and find out for myself. He took a folded piece of tin from his +pack and with a few magic passes turned it into a roof-shaped structure +resting on its side on two short steel legs. Another twist of the wrist +lifted a little tin shelf into place. This contraption was set about a +yard from the glowing fire and the pan of biscuits was placed on the +shelf. As I stared at the open-work baker the biscuits puffed into +lightness and slowly turned a rich tempting brown. After we had eaten +the last one and the camp was put in order, we sat watching a fat moon +wallow lazily up from behind the Rim. Strange forms crept into sight +with the moon-rise--ruined Irish castles, fortresses hiding their dread +secrets, sculptured groups, and weird goblins. By and by a few stars +blossomed--great soft golden splashes, scattered about in an inverted +turquoise bowl. The heavens seemed almost at our fingertips from the +bottom of this deep southern gorge. + +While Bright Angel Creek murmured a soft accompaniment, the Chief told +me how it received its name. An old legend says: Among the first Spanish +explorers a small party attempted to cross the Colorado Canyon. They +wandered down on to the plateau north of the river, and there their food +and water gave out. Many hundreds of feet below them at the bottom of a +sheer precipice flowed the great river. Their leader swooned from thirst +and exhaustion. It seemed certain that death was near. Above them +towered a wall they could not surmount. Just as they were ready to throw +themselves into the river so far below, their leader revived and pleaded +with them to keep going a little longer. He said: "In my dreams I have +seen a beautiful _luminoso angelo_ with sparkling water dripping from +his pinions. He beckons us on, and promises to lead to water." They took +fresh courage and struggled on in desperation, when, lo, at their very +feet flowed a crystal stream of life-giving water. In remembrance of the +vision this stream was called "Bright Angel." Pretty as this legend is, +the bestowal of the name is now officially credited to Major Powell. + +After the story ended I crept between my blankets, and as soon as I +became sufficiently inured to the conversation between Chollo and her +sympathizers I fell asleep. But along toward morning some inquisitive +deer came in to share the grain our horses had scattered, and a big +porcupine came home from lodge, quarreling and debating with himself +about something. He stopped near us and chattered angrily about it, +permanently ending our sleep. + +After breakfast we followed the trail through more ancient ruins, into a +cottonwood grove and then on to a sandy flat. Sitting low in my saddle, +almost dozing, I revived suddenly at a never-to-be-mistaken B-u-u-z-z-z! +The horses recognized it instantly and froze in their tracks. Sibilant, +wicked, it sounded again, and then a yellow streak slid across the trail +and disappeared under a low bush. We waited, and pretty soon a +coffin-shaped head came up and waved slowly to and fro. The Chief shot +him with his forty-five and the snake twisted and writhed into the +trail, then lay still. A moment later I had the rattles in my hatband +for a souvenir. "Look out for his mate," the Chief said; but we didn't +see it, and a few days later a ranger camping there found it coiled in +his bed, and its rattles joined the ones already in my possession. + +On and on climbed the trail, growing steeper at every turn. I could have +walked with a greater degree of comfort, but the Chief said: "Ride!" So +I rode; and I mean just that. I rode every inch of that horse several +times over. What time I wasn't clinging to his tail being dragged up a +precipice, I was hanging around his neck like a limpet. One time, when +the girth slipped, both the saddle and I rode upside down under his +belly. Some time ago I saw a sloth clinging, wrong end to, to the top +bars of his cage. It brought back painful memories of when the saddle +slipped. + +When we reached the blue-wall a mighty roaring was audible. Far above, a +torrent of water from some subterranean cavern bursts from the ledge +with such force that the sound carries for miles. This is called Roaring +Springs. Getting up over the blue-wall limestone was arduous. This +limestone formation is difficult to conquer wherever it is found. Almost +straight up, clinging to the horse's mane, we climbed, stopping +frequently to let the panting animals breathe. + +As we neared the North Rim, now and then along the trail a wild rose +blossomed, and as we climbed higher we threaded a maze of sweet locust, +fern, and bracken. It was a fairyland. And then the trail topped out at +an elevation of eight thousand feet into the forest primeval. Towering +yellow pines, with feet planted in masses of flowers, pushed toward +heaven. Scattered among the rugged pines were thousands of slender aspen +trees, swaying and quivering, their white trunks giving an artificial +effect to the scene as if the gods had set a stage for some pagan drama. +Ruffed grouse strutted about, challenging the world at large. Our +horses' hoofs scattered a brood and sent them scuttling to cover under +vines and blossoms. Roused from his noonday siesta, a startled deer +bounded away. One doe had her fawn secreted near the trail and she +followed us for some distance to make sure her baby was safe. + +As we swung around a curve into an open valley, we came to a decrepit +signpost. And what do you suppose it said? Merely: "Santa Fe R. R. and +El Tovar," while a hand pointed back the way we had come. I wondered how +many travelers had rushed madly around the corner in order to catch the +Santa Fe Limited. But in those days the North Rim seemed to sprout +signs, for soon we overtook this one: + + + THE JIM OWENS CAMP + GUIDING TOURISTS AND HUNTING PARTIES A SPECIALTY + COUGARS CAUGHT TO ORDER + RATES REASONABLE + + +Of course the signing of Park lands is contrary to the policies of the +National Park Service, and after White Mountain's inspection trip, these +were promptly removed. + +At length we arrived at Jim's camp. Uncle Jim must have caught several +cougars to order, for the cabin walls were covered with pelts and +murderous-looking claws frescoed the ceiling. Uncle Jim told us that he +has caught more than eleven hundred cougars in the past twenty years. He +guided Teddy Roosevelt on his hunts in Arizona, and I doubt if there is +a hunter and guide living today that is as well known and loved by +famous men as is Jim Owens. He has retired from active guiding now, and +spends his time raising buffalo in the Rock House Valley. + +Scenery on the North Rim is more varied and beautiful than that where we +lived at El Tovar. Do you favor mountains? "I will lift up mine eyes to +the hills from whence cometh my help." Far across the Canyon loom the +snow-capped heights of San Francisco Peaks. Truly from those hills comes +help. Water from a huge reservoir filled by melting snow on their +summits supplies water to towns within a radius of a hundred miles. + +Look to the south and you see the Navajo Reservation, and the glorious, +glowing Painted Desert. If peaceful scenes cloy, and you hanker for a +thrill, drop your glance to the Colorado River, foaming and racing a +mile or so below. Sunset from this point will linger in my memory while +I live. A weird effect was caused by a sudden storm breaking in the +Canyon's depths. All sense of deepness was blotted out and, instead, +clouds billowed and beat against the jutting walls like waves breaking +on some rock-bound coast. + +Point Sublime has been featured in poems and paint until it needs little +introduction. It was here that Dutton drew inspiration for most of his +poems of Grand Canyon, weaving a word picture of the scene, +awe-inspiring and wonderful. How many of you have seen the incomparable +painting of the Grand Canyon hanging in the Capitol at Washington? The +artist, Thomas Moran, visited Point Sublime in 1873 with Major Powell, +and later transferred to canvas the scene spread before him. + +Deer and grouse and small animals were about us all the way, and I had +the pleasure of seeing a big white-tailed squirrel dart around and +around a tree trunk. This squirrel is found nowhere else. + +That evening at sunset we drove with Blondy Jensen to VT Park through +the "President's Forest." At first we saw two or three deer together, +and then we came upon them feeding like herds of cattle, literally +hundreds of them. They were all bucks. Blondy said the does were still +back in the deep woods with their fawns. We reached the Diamond Bar +Ranch just as supper was ready, and the cowboys invited us to eat. Two +big Dutch ovens were piled with live coals before the fireplace. I eyed +them with a lot of curiosity until a smiling cowboy lifted the lids for +me to peep within. One was full of simmering tender beef and the other +held biscuits just turning a delicious brown. I made up our minds then, +and we all stayed for supper. + +It was late when we started back to our camp on the Rim, and the big car +slid along at a great rate. Suddenly Blondy jammed on the brakes and +almost lost me through the windshield. An enormous full-grown deer +loomed directly in front of the headlights. There he stood, head thrown +back, nostrils distended, monarch of all he surveyed. A moment longer he +posed, then leaped away into the darkness, leaving us wondering if we +had really seen anything. + +All too soon it was time for us to start back to the South Rim, and we +made a reluctant departure. It rained on us part of the way, and +loosened rocks made the going perilous. Halfway down the steepest part +we met half a dozen loose pack mules. One of the first rules of safety +for a trail without turnouts is that no loose stock must be allowed on +it. My Indian horse chose that particular time and place to throw a fit +of temperament, and he climbed out of the way of the wild mules by +scrambling up a perpendicular rock and flattening out against the +hillside. I slid off over his tail and landed in the trail on the back +of my neck, but popped up to see what had happened to the Chief. The +pack mules were being urged on from the rear by a fool mule-skinner, and +they had crowded Tony, the Chief's mount, off the trail on to a +good-sized rock that stuck out over the brink. He stood trembling on the +rock and the Chief stood beside him on the same rock with an arm around +the scared horse's neck, talking to him in his usual slow, calm way, all +the time stroking Tony's ears and patting his neck. Inch by inch the +rock was parting from the earth holding it, and it seemed to me I would +just die of terror. White Mountain just kept on talking to the horse and +trying to coax him back into the trail. At last Tony turned an almost +human look on the Chief and then stepped back into the trail, just as +the boulder gave way and went crashing down the incline, carrying trees, +rocks, and earth with it. + +"Why didn't you let him go? Why did you just stand there like an idiot?" +I raved. The reaction was so great that I entirely lost my temper. + +"Oh, my good new saddle was on him. I couldn't let that go, you know," +said White Mountain. + +In the meantime the mules continued to mill and buck in the trail. Up +rushed Mr. Mule-Skinner. He addressed the Chief in about these words: +"Get the hell outa my way, you ---- ---- fool. Ain't you got no sense at +all?" + +We will skip the next inch or two of this narrative, and let kind +oblivion cover it as cool dusk masks the ravages of burning noon. +Anyway, this was part of a hunting outfit, including Fred Stone, bound +for the North Rim. To this day I can't see any comedy in Mr. Stone's +acting. + +Tony seemed quite unnerved by his encounter, and as we crossed the +swinging bridge he became startled at something and plunged wildly +against the wire fencing the bridge. The Chief threw out a hand to +steady himself and his ring, caught on a broken wire, cut into and +buried itself in his flesh. When we reached the south end of the bridge +we dismounted and tried to care for the painful wound, but with no +medicine or water there was little we could do. We bound it up in a +handkerchief and went on to the top, the Chief suffering agonies with +the injury and the intense heat. On top a ranger cut the flesh away and +filed the ring off. I added it to my other souvenirs. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter XIII: SISTERS UNDER THE SKIN[4]_ + + + "For the Colonel's Lady and Judy O'Grady + Are sisters under the skin!" + + +"And what of the women and children? How do they live?" I have been +asked again and again, when speaking of Indians of the Southwest. And +who isn't interested in the intimate details of the home life of our +Indian sisters? + +What of their work? Their homes? Their dress? And--most interesting to +us paleface women--what of their love affairs? + +Most of you have seen the stolid squaw, wrapped in a soiled blanket, +silently offering her wares to tourists throughout the Southwest. Does +it seem strange to you that this same stoical creature is just bubbling +over with femininity? That she loves with devotion, is torn with +passionate jealousy, and adorns herself just as carefully within her +limited means for the benefit of masculine eyes, as you do? Among +friends she sparkles, and laughs and gossips with her neighbors over a +figurative back fence just as you do in Virginia or Vermont. Just +living, loving, joyous, or sorrowing women are these brown-skinned +sisters of ours. + +Were I looking for inspiration to paint a Madonna I would turn my steps +toward the Painted Desert, and there among the Indian people I would +find my model. Indian mothers are real mothers. Their greatest passion +is mother-love. Not a pampering, sheltering, foolish love, but a great, +tender love that seeks always what is best for the child, regardless of +the mother's feelings or the child's own desires. The first years of an +Indian baby's life are very simple. Apart from being fed without having +to catch his dinner, there is not much to choose between his existence +and that of any other healthy young animal. He and his little companions +dart about in sunshine and rain, naked as little brown kewpies. I have +never seen a deformed Indian baby or one with spinal trouble. Why? +Because the mothers grow up living natural lives: they dress in +loose-fitting, sensible clothing; they wear flat-heeled shoes or +moccasins; they eat plain, nourishing food; and they walk and ride and +work until almost the minute the child is born. They take the newborn +babe to a water hole, bathe it, then strap it on a straight board with +its little spine absolutely supported. Here it spends the first six +months of its existence. + +The child's chin is bound round with a soft strip of leather, so that +its breathing is done through its nostrils; no adenoids or mouth +breathing among the Indians, and very little lung trouble as long as +they do not try to imitate the white man's ways. + +Different tribes celebrate the birth of a child in different ways. The +gift is always welcome when a little new life comes into an Indian home. +The Hopi mother rubs her baby with wood ashes so that its body will not +be covered with hair. Then a great feast is held and thank-offering +gifts are received. Each relative brings an ear of corn to the mother +and gives a name to the child. It may receive twenty or more names at +birth, and yet in later life it will choose a name for itself or be +named by its mother. + +Not so much ceremony greets the Navajo baby. Navajo mothers are far too +busy and baby additions are too frequent to get excited about. The +mother bathes herself and the newcomer in cold water, wraps him in his +swaddling clothes of calico, straps him on his board cradle, suspends it +on a limb, and goes on with the spinning or weaving that had occupied +her a few minutes before. All Indian babies are direct gifts from the +Powers That Be, and a token of said Powers' favor. A childless Indian +wife is pitied and scoffed at by her tribe. + +After a few months the child is released from his cradle prison and +allowed to tumble around the mother's loom while she weaves her +blankets. He entertains himself and learns to creep and then to walk +without any help. If there is an older child he is left in its care. It +is not unusual to see a two or three-year-old youngster guarding a still +younger one, and keeping it out of the fire or from under the hoofs of +the ponies grazing around the camp. + +As the children grow older they are trained to work. The boys watch the +flocks and help cultivate the fields, if fields there be, and the little +girls are taught the household tasks of tanning the sheep hides, drying +the meat in the sun, braiding the baskets, carding and spinning wool and +making it into rugs, shaping the pottery and painting and baking it over +the sheep-dung fires. These and dozens of other tasks are ever at hand +for the Indian woman to busy herself with. If you think for an instant +that you'd like to leave your own house and live a life of ease with the +Indian woman, just forget it. It is a life of labor and hardship, of +toil and endless tasks, from day-break until long after dark, and with +the most primitive facilities one can imagine. Only on calendars do we +see a beauteous Indian maiden draped in velvet, reclining on a mossy +bank, and gazing at her own image in a placid pool. That Indian is the +figment of a fevered artist brain in a New York studio. Should a real +Indian woman try that stunt she'd search a long way for the water. Then +she'd likely recline in a cactus bed and gaze at a medley of hoofs and +horns of deceased cows bogged down in a mud hole. Such are the +surroundings of our real Indians. + +Indian women are the home-makers and the home-keepers. They build the +house, whether it be the brush hewa of the Supai or the stone pueblo of +the Hopi. They gather the pinon nuts and grind them into meal. They +crush the corn into meal, and thresh and winnow the beans, and dry the +pumpkin for winter use. They cut the meat into strips and cure it into +jerky. They dry the grapes and peaches. They garner the acorns and store +them in huge baskets of their own weaving. They shear the sheep, and +wash, dye, spin, and weave the wool into marvelous blankets. They cut +the willows and gather sweet grasses for the making of baskets and +trays. They grind and knead and shape clay into artistic pottery and +then paint it with colors gleaned from the earth. They burn and bake the +clay vessels until they are waterproof, and they carry them weary miles +to the railway to sell them to the tourists so that their children may +have food and clothing. + +The Hopi woman brings water to the village up a mile or two of +heart-breaking trail, carrying it in great ollas set on her head or +slung on her back. She must have water to make the mush for supper, and +such trivial things as a shampoo or a bath are indulged in only just +before the annual Snake Dance. Religion demands it then! + +Where water is plentiful, however, the Indians bathe and swim daily. +They keep their hair clean and shining with frequent mud baths! Black, +sticky mud from the bottom of the river is plastered thickly over the +scalp and rubbed into the hair, where it is left for several hours. When +it is washed away the hair is soft, and gleams like the sheeny wing of +the blackbird. Root of the yucca plant is beaten into a pulp and used as +a shampoo cream by other tribes. Cosmetics are not greatly in use among +these women. They grow very brown and wrinkled at an early age, just +when our sheltered women are looking their best. This is accounted for +by the hard lives they live, exposed to the burning summer suns and +biting winter winds, and by cooking over smoky campfires or hovering +over them for warmth in the winter. + +An Indian's hands are never beautiful in an artistic sense. How could +they be? They dress and tan the sheep and deer hides; they make +moccasins and do exquisite bead work; they cut and carry the wood and +keep the fires burning. They cook the meals and sit patiently by until +the men have gobbled their fill before they partake. They care tenderly +for the weaklings among the flocks of sheep and goats. Navajo women +often nurse a deserted or motherless lamb at their own ample breasts. +They make clothes for themselves and their families, although to look at +the naked babies one would not think the dress-making business +flourished. + +But with all the duties incumbent on an Indian mother she never neglects +her children. They are taught all that she thinks will help them live +good lives. The girls grow up with the knowledge that their destiny is +to become good wives and mothers. They are taught that their bodies must +be kept strong and fit to bear many children. And when the years of +childhood are passed they know how to establish homes of their own. + +Many interesting customs are followed during courtship among the tribes. +The Pueblos, among whom are the Hopis, have a pretty way by which the +maidens announce their matrimonial aspirations. How? By putting their +soft black hair, which heretofore has been worn loose, into huge whorls +above the ears. This is called the squash-blossom headdress and +signifies maturity. When this age is reached, the maiden makes up her +mind just which lad she wants, then lets him know about it. The Hopi +girl does her proposing by leaving some cornmeal piki or other edible +prepared by her own hands at the door of the selected victim under cover +of darkness. He usually knows who has left it, and then, if "Barkis is +willin'," he eats out of the same bowl of mush with her, the medicine +man holds a vessel of water into which both dip their hands, and the +wedding ceremony is finished. He moves into the bride's house and they +presumably live happily ever afterward. However, squalls do arise +sometimes, and then the husband is likely to come home from work in the +fields or a night at the lodge and find his wardrobe done up in his +Sunday bandanna waiting on the doorstep for him. In that case all he can +do is take his belongings and "go home to mother." His wife has divorced +him by merely throwing his clothes out of her house. + +Navajo bucks purchase their wives for a certain number of sheep or +horses, as do also the Supai, Cheyenne, Apache, and other desert tribes. +There is not much fuss made over divorce among them, either. If a wife +does not like her husband's treatment of her, she refuses to cook for +him or to attend to any of her duties, and he gladly sends her back to +her father. He, like Solomon of old, agrees that "it is better to dwell +alone in the wilderness than with an angry and contentious woman." The +father doesn't mind getting her back, because he keeps the original +purchase price and will also collect from the next brave that wants to +take a chance on her; why should he worry? In a few instances braves +have been known to trade wives and throw in an extra pony or silver belt +to settle all difficulties. The missionaries are doing much to +discourage this practice and are trying to teach the Indians to marry in +a civilized manner. In case they do succeed let us hope that while the +savages embrace the marrying idea they will not emulate civilized people +in divorce matters. + +For a primitive people with all the untrained impulses and natural +instincts of animals, there is surprisingly little sexual immorality +among the tribes. It seems that the women are naturally chaste. For +there is no conventional standard among their own people by which they +are judged. If an unmarried squaw has a child, there are deploring +clucks, but the girl's parents care tenderly for the little one and its +advent makes no difference in the mother's chances for a good marriage. +Also the child does not suffer socially for its unfortunate birth, which +is more humane at least than our method of treating such children. The +children of a marriage take the mother's name and belong to her clan. +She has absolute control of them until the girl reaches a marriageable +age; then Dad collects the marriage price. + +Another thing we civilized parents might take into consideration. Indian +babies are never punished by beating or shaking. It is the Indian idea +that anything which injures a child's self-respect is very harmful. Yet +Indian children are very well-behaved, and their respect and love for +their elders is a beautiful thing. I have never seen an Indian child cry +or sulk for anything forbidden it. + +Schools for Reservation children are compulsory, but whether they are +altogether a blessing or not is still doubtful. To take an Indian child +away from its own free, wild life, teach it to dress in white man's +clothes, eat our food, sleep in our beds, bathe in white-tiled bathtubs, +think our thoughts, learn our vices, and then, having led them to +despise their own way of living, send them back to their people who have +not changed while their children were being literally reborn--what does +this accomplish? Doesn't Aesop tell us something of a crow that would be +a dove and found himself an outcast everywhere? We are replacing the +beautiful symbolism of the Indian by our materialism and leaving him +bewildered and discouraged. Why should he be taught to despise his +hogan, shaped after the beautiful rounded curve of the rainbow and the +arched course of the sun in his daily journey across the sky--a type of +home that has been his for generations? Do we ever stop to think why the +mud hut is dome-shaped, why the door always faces the east? + +I have been watching one Hopi family for years. In this case simple +housekeeping, plain sewing, and suitable cooking have been taught to the +girl in school. The mother waits eagerly for the return of the daughter +from school so that she can hear and learn and share what has been +taught to her girl. Her efforts to keep pace with the child are so +intense and her pride in her improved home is so great that it is +pitiful. Isn't there some way the elders can share the knowledge we are +trying to give the younger generation, so that parents and children may +be brought closer together rather than estranged? + +No matter what color the skin, feminine nature never varies! Let one +squaw get a new calico dress, and it creates a stir in every tepee. The +female population gathers to admire, and the equivalent to our ohs and +ahs fills the air. It takes something like twenty yards of calico to +make an Indian flapper a skirt. It must be very full and quite long, +with a ruffle on the hem for good measure. There is going to be no +unseemly display of nether limbs. When a new dress is obtained it is put +on right over the old one, and it is not unusual for four or five such +billowing garments to be worn at once. A close-fitting basque of velvet +forms the top part of this Navajo costume, and over all a machine-made +blanket is worn. Store-made shoes, or more often the hand-made moccasins +of soft doeskin trimmed with silver and turquoise buttons, are worn +without stockings. The feet of Indian women are unusually small and +well-shaped. The amount of jewelry that an Indian wears denotes his +social rank, and, like their white brothers, they adorn the wife, so +that it is not unusual to see their women decked out until they resemble +prosperous Christmas trees. Many silver bracelets, studded with the +native turquoises, strings and strings of silver beads, and shell +necklaces, heavy silver belts, great turquoise earrings, rings and +rings, make up the ensemble of Navajo jewelry. Even the babies are +loaded down with it. It is the family pocketbook. When an Indian goes to +a store he removes a section of jewelry and trades it for whatever takes +his fancy. And one thing an Indian husband should give fervent thanks +for--his wife never wears a hat. + +Our Indian sisters are not the slaves of their husbands as we have been +led to believe. It is true that the hard work in the village or camp is +done by the squaws, but it is done cheerfully and more as a right than +as a duty. In olden times the wives kept the home fires burning and the +crops growing while the braves were on the warpath or after game. Now +that the men no longer have these pursuits, it never occurs to them to +do their wives' work. Nor would they be permitted to do it. + +After the rugs, baskets, or pottery are finished, the husband may take +them to the trading-post or depot and sell them; but the money must be +turned over to the wife or accounted for to her full satisfaction. + +All the Indian women are tireless and fearless riders. They ride +astride, with or without a saddle, and carry two or three of the smaller +children with them. However, if there is only one pony, wifie walks, +while her lordly mate rides. That is Indian etiquette. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter XIV: THE PASSING SHOW_ + + +Tourists! Flocks of them, trainloads and carloads! They came and looked, +and passed on, and were forgotten, nine-tenths of them at least. + +Anyone who is interested in the study of human nature should set up shop +on the Rim of the Grand Canyon and watch the world go by. I have never +been able to determine why Eastern people can't act natural in the West! +For instance: Shy spinster schoolma'ams, the essence of modesty at home, +catch the spirit of adventure and appear swaggering along in the +snuggest of knickers. They would die of shame should their home-town +minister or school president catch them in such apparel. Fat ladies +invariably wear breeches--tight khaki breeches--and with them they wear +georgette blouses, silk stockings, and high-heeled pumps. I have even +seen be-plumed chapeaux top the sport outfit. One thing is a safe +bet--the plumper the lady, the snugger the breeches! + +Be-diamonded dowagers, hand-painted flappers, timid wives from Kansas, +one and all seem to fall for the "My God" habit when they peer down +into the Canyon. Ranger Winess did tell me of one original damsel; she +said: "Ain't it cute?" + +I was standing on the Rim one day, watching a trail party through field +glasses, when a stout, well-dressed man stopped and asked to borrow my +glasses. He spoke of the width and depth of the Canyon, and stood +seemingly lost in contemplation of the magnificent sight. I had him +classified as a preacher, and I mentally rehearsed suitable Biblical +quotations. He turned to me and asked, "Do you know what strikes me most +forcibly about this place?" + +"No, what is it?" I hushed my soul to listen to some sublime sentiment. + +"_I haven't seen a fly since I've been here!_" + +I was spluttering to White Mountain about it and wishing I had pushed +him over the edge, but the Chief thought it was funny. He said the man +must have been a butcher. + +It is a strange fact that tourists will not listen to what Rangers tell +them to do or not to do. The Government pays men who have spent their +lives in such work to guide and guard strangers when they come into the +National Parks. Many visitors resent advice, and are quite ready to cry +for help when they get into difficulties or danger by ignoring +instructions. And usually they don't appreciate the risks that are taken +to rescue them from their own folly. + +A young man from New York City, with his companion, walked down the +Bright Angel Trail to the Colorado River. Everybody knows, or should +know, that the Colorado River is a most treacherous river. One glance at +the sullen, silt-filled current tells that story. It seldom gives up its +dead. But the New Yorker swam it, with his shoes and underclothing on. +By the time he reached the far side he was completely exhausted. More +than that he was panic-stricken at the undercurrents and whirlpools that +had pulled at him and almost dragged him under. He would not swim back. +His companion signaled and yelled encouragement, but nothing doing. + +Behind him rose a hundred-foot precipice; his clothes and his friend +were on the southern bank. The bridge was four miles above, but +unscalable walls made it impossible for him to reach that. Furthermore, +night was at hand. + +When his friend knew that it was hopeless to wait any longer, he left +him perched on a rock and started to Headquarters for help. This was a +climb over seven miles of trail that gained a mile in altitude in that +distance. Disregarding the facts that they had already done their day's +work, that it was dark, and that his predicament was of his own making, +the rangers went to the rescue. + +A canvas boat was lashed on a mule, another mule was led along for the +victim to ride out on, and with four rangers the caravan was off. It was +the plan to follow the trail to the Suspension Bridge, cross to the +northern bank, follow down the river four miles to the cliff above the +spot where the adventurer was roosting let the boat down over the ledge +to the river, and, when the New Yorker got in, pull the boat upstream by +means of the ropes until they found a safe place to drag it to shore. + +When almost down the trail they met the lad coming up, and he was mad! +"Why didn't they come quicker? Why wasn't there a ranger down there to +keep him from swimming the river?" And so forth. But no thanks to the +men that had gone willingly to his rescue. However, they said they were +well paid by the sight of him toiling up the trail in the moonlight, _au +naturel_! They loaded him on a mule and brought him to the top. Then he +refused to pay Fred Harvey for the mule. I might add _he paid_! + +I often wondered why people pay train fare across the continent and then +spend their time poking around in _our_ houses. They would walk in +without knocking, pick up and examine baskets, books, or anything that +caught their fancy. One woman started to pull a blanket off my couch, +saying "What do you want for this?" It was an old story to members of +the Park Service, and after being embarrassed a few times we usually +remembered to hook the door before taking a bath. + +One day Chief Joe and I were chatting in front of the Hopi House. His +Indians had just completed one of their entertaining dances. As it +happened we were discussing a new book that had just been published and +I was interested in his view of the subject, _Outline of History_. All +at once an imposing dowager bore down upon us with all sails set. + +"Are you a real Indian?" + +"Yes, madam," Joe bowed. + +"Where do you sleep?" + +"In the Hopi House." + +"What do you eat?" She eyed him through her lorgnette. + +"Most everything, madam," Joe managed to say. + +Luckily she departed before we lost control of ourselves. Joe says that +he has been asked every question in the category, and then some. I think +some of our stage idols and movie stars would be jealous if they could +see the number of mash notes Joe receives. He is flattered and sought +after and pursued by society ladies galore. The fact that he is married +to one of his own people and has a fat, brown baby does not protect him. + +The Fred Harvey guides could throw interesting lights on tourist conduct +if they wished, but they seldom relate their experiences. Our card club +met in the recreation room of the guide quarters, and sometimes I would +get a chance to listen in on the conversation of the guides. Their +narrations were picturesque to say the least. + +"What held you up today, Ed?" + +"Well," drawled Ed, "a female dude wouldn't keep her mule movin' and +that slowed up the whole shebang. I got tired tellin' her to kick him, +so I jest throwed a loop round his neck and hitched 'im to my saddle +horn. She kept up then." + +"Make her mad?" + +"Uh-huh." A pause while he carefully rolled and lighted a cigarette. "I +reckon so. When we topped out an' I went to help her down, she wuz right +smart riled." + +"Say she wuz goin' to report you to the President of these here United +States?" + +"Don't know about that. She gimme a cut across the face with her bridle +reins." Another pause. "'Twas real aggravatin'." + +Personally, I marveled at his calm. + +"What made you late in toppin' out?" Ed asked in his turn. + +"Well, we wuz late in startin' back, anyhow, and then I had to stop fer +an hour pickin' cactus thorns outta an old-maid female." + +"Mule unload her in a patch, or did she sit down on one?" Ed was +interested. + +"Naw, didn't do neither one. She tried to eat a prickly pear offa bush +of cactus, and got her tongue full uv stickers. Said she always heard +tell them cactus apples wuz good eatin'. I propped her mouth open with a +glove so she couldn't bite none, and I picked cactus stickers till I wuz +plumb weary." + +"Yeh, women is funny that way," philosophized the listener. "They do say +Eve et an apple when she shouldn't ought to had." + +Another lad was lamenting because he had a pretty girl next to him in +the trail party; as he said: "I was sure tryin' to make hay before the +sun went down. Every time I'd say something low and confidential for her +ear alone, a deaf old coot on the tail-end of the line would let out a +yarp-- + +"'What'd you say, Guide?' or, 'I didn't get _that_, Guide.' + +"I reckon he thought I was exclaimin' on the magnificence of the +picturesque beauty of the scenery, and he wasn't gittin' his money's +worth of the remarks." + +One guide said he had trouble getting a man to make the return trip. He +was so scared going down he figured he'd stay down there rather than +ride back up the trail. + +Every morning, rain, snow, or shine, these guides, in flaming +neckerchiefs, equally audible shirts, and woolly chaps, lead their +string of patient mules up to the corral at the hotel, where the trail +parties are loaded for the trip into the Canyon. Each mule has a +complete set of individual characteristics, and mules are right set in +their ways. If one wants to reach over the edge of a sheer precipice and +crop a mouthful of grass, his rider may just as well let him reach. +Mules seldom commit suicide, although at times the incentive must be +strong. + +"Powder River," "Dishpan," "Rastus," and a few other equally hardy mule +brethren are allotted to carry helpless fat tourists down the trail. +It's no use for a fragile two-hundred-pound female to deny her weight. +Guides have canny judgment when it comes to guessing, and you can't fool +a Harvey mule. + +"Saint Peter," "Crowbar," and "By Jingo" are assigned to timid old +ladies and frightened gentlemen. + +If I were issuing trail instructions for Canyon parties I would say +something like this, basing my directions on daily observation: + +"The trail party starts about nine o'clock, and the departure should be +surrounded with joyous shouts of bravado. After you have mounted your +mule, or been laboriously hoisted aboard, let your conscience guide you +as to your actions up and down the trail. When you top out at the end of +the day and it is your turn to be unloaded, weakly drag your feet out +of the stirrups, make sure that the guide is planted directly underneath +you, turn loose all holds, and fall as heavily as possible directly on +top of him. + +"After you have been placed on your feet, say about the third time, it +might be well to make a feeble effort to stand alone. This accomplished, +hobble off to the hotel, taking care to walk as bow-legged as possible. +If you have a room with bath, dive into a blistering hot tubful and +relax. If you were having a stingy streak when you registered, order a +bath at the public bathroom and be thankful you have seventy-five cents +with which to pay for it. Later take an inventory of your damages and, +if they are not too severe, proceed to the dining-room and fill up on +the most soul-satisfying meal Fred Harvey ever placed before the public. + +"Afterward, in the lobby, between examinations of 'I wish you were here' +postcards, it might be well to warn newcomers about the dangers of the +trip. Probably few tourists are as expert riders as you." + +We liked to poke fun at the saddle-sore dudes, but all the same the trip +is a soul-trying one, and the right to boast to home folks about it is +hardly earned. + +It is really a revelation to study the reaction of the Canyon on various +races. On leaving the train a Japanese or Korean immediately seeks out a +ranger or goes to the Park Office and secures every bit of information +that is to be had. Age, formation, fauna, and flora are all +investigated. Then armed with map, guidebook, and kodak he hikes to the +bottom of the trail, and takes everything apart en route to see how it +is made. English and German travelers come next in earnest study and +observation. I am sorry to say that all foreigners seemed to show more +intelligent interest in the Canyon than our own native Americans. +Perhaps that is because only the more educated and intellectual +foreigners are able to make the trip across the ocean. Lots of Americans +never get farther than El Tovar, where they occupy easy chairs, leaving +them several times a day to array themselves in still more gorgeous +raiment. + +Of course, out of the hundreds of thousands that come to Grand Canyon, +only a stray one now and then causes any anxiety or trouble. It is human +nature to remember those that make trouble while thousands of the finest +in the land pass unnoticed. Any mother can tell you that gentle, +obedient Mary is not mentioned once, whereas naughty, turbulent Jane +pops into the conversation continually. Rangers feel the same way about +their charges. + +Perhaps a hundred people got on the train leaving the Canyon one snowy +zero night. Those people were forgotten instantly, but not so the +bellicose dame found wandering around the station asking when _her_ +train would go. She had a ticket to New York, and stood on the platform +like Andy Gump while the train with her baggage aboard pulled out. + +"It was headed the wrong way!" she explained tearfully, and stuck to her +story, even when the sorely tried superintendent led her to the tracks +and showed her that said track absolutely and finally ended there, +without argument or compromise. And she was furious. Her former +outburst was a mild prelude to what poured forth now. She would _not_ +stay there until morning when the next train left. She demanded a +special train; she ordered a handcar with which to overtake the recreant +train; she called for a taxi to chase across to Williams with her, a +mere eighty miles of ten-foot snowdrifts. Only shortage of breath +occasioned by altitude and outraged sensibilities prevented her +commandeering an airplane! None of these vehicles being forthcoming, she +would stop in Washington if she ever made her escape from this +God-forsaken hole, and have every Park employee fired. The +Superintendent took her to the hotel, then came to me for help. + +"Please lend her a comb and a nightgown," he begged. + +"All right." I was used to anything by now. "Silk or flannel?" + +"Well," he said thoughtfully. "She acts like red flannel but probably +expects crepe de chine." + +I sent both over, and never saw either again. + +My heart went out to a poor little lady, sent by heartless relatives, +traveling with only a maid. She was not mentally able to care for +herself and certainly should not have been allowed to visit Grand +Canyon. However, she and the maid arrived, with other visitors, and the +maid seated her charge on a bench near the Rim, then went away about her +own business. When she came back, behold, the little lady had vanished. +After a long time, the maid reported her absence to the Ranger Office, +and a search was organized. Soon after the rangers had set out to look +for her, an automobile traveling from Flagstaff reported they had met a +thinly dressed woman walking swiftly out into the desert. She had +refused to answer when they spoke to her, and they were afraid she was +not responsible for her actions. + +Ranger Winess, the Chief, and I climbed into the ever-ready Ford and +took up the trail. A heavy storm was gathering and the wind cut like a +knife. For several miles we saw nothing; then we saw her tracks in the +muddy road where the sun had thawed the frozen ground earlier in the +day. After a while great flakes of snow came down, and we lost all +trace. Backtracking ourselves, we found where she had left the road and +had hidden behind a big rock while we had passed. For an hour, through +the falling snow, with night closing around us, we circled and searched, +keeping in touch with each other by calling back and forth continually. +It would have been easy enough for the rangers to have lost me, for I +had no idea what direction I was moving in. We were about to give up and +go back to Headquarters for men and lights when Ranger Winess stumbled +over her as she crouched behind a log. She would have frozen to death in +a very short time, and her coyote-picked bones would probably never have +been discovered. She insisted she knew what she was about, and we had +literally to lift her into the car and take her back to El Tovar. + +Whether the Canyon disorganized their judgment or whether they were +equally silly at home I cannot tell, but certainly the two New England +school teachers who tried horseback-riding for the first time, well--! I +was mixing pie crust when the sound of thundering hoofbeats down through +the woods took me to the door. Just at my porch some men were digging a +deep ditch for plumbing. Two big black horses, a woman hanging around +the neck of each, came galloping down on us, and as the foremost one +gathered himself to leap the ditch, his fainting rider relaxed and fell +right into the arms of a young Mormon workman. He carried her into my +house, and I, not being entirely satisfied with the genuineness of the +prolonged swoon, dismissed the workman and dashed the ice-cold pie crust +water in her face. She "came to" speedily. Her companion arrived about +that time and admitted that neither of them had ever been on a horse +before, and not wanting to pay for the services of a guide they had +claimed to be expert riders. It hadn't taken the horses long to find out +how expert their riders were, and they had taken matters into their own +hands, or perhaps it might be better to say they had taken the bits in +their teeth and started for their stable. + +The girl on the leading horse said she had been looking for quite a +while for a suitable place to fall, and when she saw the Mormon she knew +that was her chance! + +It wasn't always the humans that got into trouble, either. I remember a +beautiful collie dog that was being given an airing along the Rim. He +suddenly lost his head, dashed over the low wall, and leaped to his +death a thousand feet below. It took an Indian half a day of arduous +climbing around fissures and bluffs to reach him and return him to his +distracted owners for burial. They could not bear to leave the Canyon +until they knew he was not lying injured and suffering on a ledge +somewhere. + + + + +[Illustration] + +_Chapter XV: FOOLS, FLOOD, AND DYNAMITE_ + + +The Chief and I stayed home for a few days, and life rambled on without +untoward incident. I began to breathe easier and stopped crossing my +fingers whenever the phone rang. + +I even grew so placid that I settled myself to make a wedding dress for +the little Mexican girl who helped me around the house. Her father was +head of the Mexican colony whose village lies just out of Headquarters. +Every member of the clan was a friend of mine, for I had helped them +when they were sick and had saved all the colored pictures in magazines +for their children. + +The wedding day dawned early, very early! At five o'clock I dragged +myself from my warm bed and went to the schoolhouse where the wedding +was staged. Father Vabre married the couple, and then we all went home +with the happy pair. An accordion and a harmonica furnished music enough +for several weddings; at least they made plenty of racket. We were +seated at the table with the bride and groom. They sat there all day +long, she still wearing her long wedding veil. The groom was attired in +the niftiest shepherd-plaid suit I ever beheld. The checks were so large +and so loud I was reminded constantly of a checker-board. A bright blue +celluloid collar topped the outfit. I do not think the bridal couple +spoke a word all day. They sat like statues and stonily received +congratulations and a kiss on each cheek from all their friends. There +was such a lot of dancing and feasting, and drinking the native wine +secured for that grand occasion. Our plates were loaded with food of all +sorts, but I compromised with a taste of the wine and a cup of coffee. +The dancing and feasting lasted two or three days, but one day exhausted +my capacity for endurance. + +Soon after the wedding, a tiny baby sister of the bride died, and its +father came to get permission to bury it in the Park cemetery. I asked +if I could do anything to help them, and Sandoval said I was to make the +dress and put it on the baby for them. He produced bright orange +organdie and pink ribbons for the purpose. Next morning I took the +completed dress and some flowers the El Tovar gardener had contributed +down to their home. I dressed the wee mite in the shroud, which was +mightily admired, and placed the crucifix the mother gave me in its tiny +waxen fist. Then the bride came with her veil and wreath of orange +blossoms, and said she wanted to give them to the little sister. The +mother spoke no English, but she pointed here and there where she wanted +the flowers and bright bows of ribbon pinned. Strange, it looked to me, +the little dead baby decked out in wedding finery, but the poor mother +was content. She patted a ribbon and smoothed the dress, saying to me in +Spanish: + +"The Madonna will find my baby _so_ beautiful!" + +One hot August day, the Chief and Ranger West went down into Salt Creek +Basin, at the bottom of the Canyon, to look for some Government horses +that had strayed away. In spite of their feeble protests I tagged along. + +We had checked up on the stock and were following the trail homeward. +Ranger West rode in front on Black Dixie. Ordinarily he would have been +humming like an overgrown bumblebee, or talking to Dixie, who he said +was the only female he knew he would tell secrets to. But we had ridden +far that day, and the heat radiated from the great ore rocks was almost +beyond endurance. Now and then we could catch a glimpse of the river +directly at the foot of the ledge our trail followed, and the water +looked invitingly cool. All at once Dixie stopped so suddenly that +Ranger West almost took a header. A man's hat was lying in the trail. +Dismounting, the men looked for tracks. A quite legible story was +written there for them to read. Some tenderfoot, thirst-crazed, had +stumbled along that trail since we had passed that way a couple of hours +earlier. Putting our horses to a lope we rode on until we came to his +empty canteen; and a little farther on to a discarded coat and shirt. +The tracks in the sand wavered like those of a drunken man. + +"We'll find his shoes next," the Chief called to Ranger West; "and then +pretty soon the end of the trail for him. Can't go far barefoot in this +hot sand." + +"Say," Ranger West shouted, "White Mountain, Poison Spring is just +around the bend. We'll find the poor devil flattened out there sure. +_You_ ride slow, Margie, and we'll hurry along." + +I didn't say anything, but I hurried along too. This spring he spoke of +was strongly impregnated with arsenic. Even the wild burros shunned it; +but I hardly dared to hope this desperate man would pass by it. The men +rode over the expected shoes without stopping, but I got off of Tar Baby +and got them. I began to think I would stay a little way behind. I felt +rather weak and sick. Rounding the turn I could see there was nothing at +the spring, and in the distance a stumbling figure was weaving along. +The men were nearing him, so I spurred to a run. Every now and then the +man would fall, lie prone for a minute, then struggle to his feet and go +on. Suddenly my heart stood still. The figure left the trail and headed +straight for the edge of the precipice. The river had made itself heard +at last. + +Ranger West turned Dixie from the trail and rode straight across the +plateau to where the man had disappeared behind a big boulder. The Chief +followed West, but I rode the trail and kept my eyes resolutely ahead of +me. I knew I couldn't endure seeing the man jump to certain death when +we were at his heels with water and life. + +When I looked up again Ranger West had his rope in his hand widening the +loop. White Mountain was with him. They were ten or fifteen feet from +the man, who was lying on his stomach peering down at the water. As the +poor fellow raised himself for the plunge, with a quick flirt of his +wrist the ranger tossed the rope across the intervening space, and as +the noose settled around the man's arms White Mountain and the ranger +dragged him back from death. + +He lay stunned for a space, then twisted himself over, and mumbled +through swollen, bleeding lips: "Is that really water down there?" + +They helped him back into the trail and gave him a swallow from a +canteen. It took both the men to manage him, for with the first taste of +water he went raving crazy. He fought and cursed them, and cried like a +baby because he couldn't hold the canteen in his own hands. They laid +him in the shade of our horses and poured a few drops down his throat at +intervals until a degree of sanity returned. He was then placed on the +Chief's horse, and the Chief and Ranger West took turns, one riding +Dixie while the other helped the man stay in the saddle. We found later +he was a German chemist looking for mineral deposits in the Canyon. + +Each morning a daily report of the previous day's doings is posted in +Ranger Headquarters. I was curious to know what Ranger West's +contribution would be for that day. This is what he said: + +"Patrolled Tonto Trail looking for lost horses. Accompanied Chief Ranger +and wife. Brought in lost tenderfoot. Nothing to report." + +And that was that. + +The Chief decided to drive out to Desert View the afternoon following +our Canyon experience, and he said I could go if I liked; he said he +couldn't promise any excitement, but the lupine was beautiful in Long +Jim Canyon, and I might enjoy it. + +"Thank God for a chance to be peaceful. I'm fed up on melodrama," I +murmured, and I climbed into that old Ford with a breath of relief. + +We had such a beautiful drive. I waded waist-high in the fragrant +lupine, and even took a nap on pine needles while White Mountain located +the bench mark he was seeking. When he came back to me he said we had +better start home. He saw a cloud that looked as if it might rain. + +Before we reached the Ford, the rain came down; then more rain came, and +then there was a cloudburst. By that time we were well down toward the +middle of Long Jim Canyon. This canyon acts just like a big ditch when +rain falls. We had to keep going, and behind us a wall of water raced +and foamed and reached out for us. It carried big logs with it, and +maybe that water didn't make some time on the down grade. + +"Hang on, hold everything!" the Chief yelled in my ear, and we were off +on as mad a race as John Gilpin ever rode. Henry would be proud of his +offspring if he knew how one _could_ run when it had a flood behind it. + +"Peaceful! Quiet!! Restful!!!" I hissed at the Chief, between bumps. +Driving was rather hazardous, because the water before us had carried +trees and debris into the road almost blocking it at places. Now and +then we almost squashed a dead cow the flood had deposited in our path. + +I hoped the gasoline would hold out. I prayed that the tires would last. +And I mentally estimated the endurance power of springs and axles. +Everything was jake, to use a cowboy expression, and we reached the +mouth of the Canyon where both we and the flood could spread out. + +"Whew!" said the Chief, wiping his face. I didn't say anything. + +I can't remember that anything disastrous happened for two or three days +after the flood. Life assumed an even tenor, and I yawned occasionally +from sheer ennui. + +To break the monotony I made a salad. That was momentous! Salads meant +something in our young lives out there. One of the rangers on leave had +returned and brought me a fine head of lettuce--an entirely rash way of +saying it with flowers. One last can of shrimp reposed on the shelf. It +almost had cobwebs on it, we had cherished it so long, saving it for +some grand spree. The time had arrived. That salad looked tempting as I +sliced the rosy pimiento on top and piled it in the blue and white bowl. +The ranger who contributed the lettuce was an invited guest, and he +stood on one foot, then on the other, while the dressing was mixed. Even +White Mountain hovered over it anxiously. + +Just then came a knock! A very famous "bugologist" had come to call on +us. Of course the Chief invited him to dinner, while the ranger and I +looked glumly at each other. Maybe there wouldn't be plenty of salad for +four! + +Our guest was deep in his favorite sport, telling us all about the bugs +that killed the beautiful yellow pines at the Canyon. + +"Have some butter, Professor, and try this salad," invited White +Mountain. + +"Thanks, it looks enticing," answered our distinguished guest, and he +placed the bowl with all its contents on his plate. Bite by bite the +salad disappeared, while he discoursed on the proper method of killing +the Yellow Pine Beetle. + +"Why aren't you folks eating some of this delicious salad? You deprive +yourself of a treat when you refuse to eat salads. The human body +requires the elements found in fresh, leafy plants, etc., etc." + +I gave the Chief's shins a sharp little kick. + +"We seldom eat salads," murmured White Mountain. + +I think I heard the disappointed ranger mutter: "Damn right we don't!" + +When the last bite was gone we all stepped outside to look for signs of +the dread beetle on our own trees. While we stood there a blast was put +off by the construction gang on the railway directly in front of our +house. Rocks, 'dobe, and pine cones rattled down all around us. We beat +a retreat into the house and the Chief called to the man in charge and +warned him that such charges of powder as that must be covered if any +more blasting were to be done. + +Again next morning big rocks struck the house, and broke a window. In +the absence of a ranger, I walked down and requested the Turk in charge +of the labor to use a little more discretion. Our house was newly +painted inside and out. My windows were all clean, new curtains were up, +the floors were newly waxed, and we were quite proud of our place of +abode. I said to the Turk I was afraid the roof would leak if such sharp +rocks hit it. He replied insolently that if he blew the roof off, the +Santa Fe would put another on. I went back to the house in fear and +trembling, and picked up my sewing. For half an hour I sewed in quiet. +Then a terrific explosion rent the air. There was ominous silence for an +instant, then the house crumpled over my head. The ridgepole came +crashing down, bringing part of the roof and ceiling with it. Rocks and +a great boulder fell into the room, knocking the stove over. Ashes and +soot went everywhere. One rock grazed me and knocked the sewing basket +from my lap. Part of a railroad tie carried the window sash and curtains +in with it and landed on the piano. + +I have a vague recollection of searching vainly for my thimble, and then +of grimly determining to locate the Chief's gun. It is well he wore his +arsenal that day, else the usual order of things would have been +reversed--a Christian would have massacred a Turk! + +While I was aimlessly wandering around through the wreckage, half dazed, +White Mountain and the Superintendent rushed in. They frantically pulled +me this way and pushed me that, trying to find out if I were hopelessly +injured, or merely killed. They found out I could still talk! Then they +turned their attention to the Turk and his men who came trooping in to +view the remains. It seemed they had put down a charge of four sticks +and it had failed to explode. So they had added four more and let her +ramble. It was _some_ blow-up! At least the Turk found it so. + +"What do you want me to do?" that unfortunate asked me, after the Park +men finished with him. + +"Oh, go outside and die!" + +"White Mountain, give me your pocketbook. I'm going to buy a ticket to +West Virginia. I've had enough of the great open spaces," I continued. + +"Why go now?" he wanted to know. "You've escaped death from fire, flood, +and fools. Might as well stay and see it through." + +So we started shoveling out the dirt. + + +FOOTNOTES + +[1] Reprinted, by permission, with a few changes, from _Good +Housekeeping_. + +[2] Reprinted, by permission, with a few changes, from _Good +Housekeeping_. + +[3] Reprinted, by permission, with a few changes from _Good +Housekeeping_. + +[4] Reprinted, by permission, from the _Los Angeles Times_ Sunday +magazine. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's I Married a Ranger, by Dama Margaret Smith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I MARRIED A RANGER *** + +***** This file should be named 18538.txt or 18538.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/3/18538/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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