Image not available: Yours in P.F. O H Bacon T & P Ry
number of souvenirs were procured, the most highly prized being the Texan sunbonnets, which so fascinated the ladies of our party that they purchased, it is said, all that were on sale in the city. They are very unique in style and worn very extensively by the native women of this locality. Brother Post purchased a Texan sombrero, and all agree that it is very becoming; the ladies are wearing their sunbonnets; Wyman has his circus gown and a Texan sunbonnet on; and a photographer is placing his apparatus in position to take a snap at the train and party before we leave. With the snap of the camera comes the shout of “all aboard,” and as we scamper on, the train moves slowly off, and we leave Fort Worth behind us, but carry away with us pleasant memories of the beauty of the city and of the kindness and civility of its people.
T. & P. engine No. 188, run by Engineer John Baker and fired by John Price, draws our train from Fort Worth to Big Springs, a distance of 270 miles. Conductor O. H. Bacon and Brakeman Charles Gunning go with us from Fort Worth to El Paso, a distance of 616 miles. Division Superintendent J. B. Paul accompanied us from Fort Worth to Weatherford, 31 miles. Shortly after leaving Weatherford we crossed the Brazos River and obtained a fine view of the Brazos Mountains. As we passed Eastland, 105 miles west of Fort Worth, we noticed devastation and ruin, the effect, we were told, of a recent cyclone. A few miles further we reach Baird and stop ten minutes for orders and water. A little boy about three years of age attracts the attention of some of our party, who ascertain that his name is Reynaud Strobe; his mother and grandfather live at the station;his father, who was an employe of the railroad, was killed in an accident about a year ago, almost in sight of his home. Master Reynaud is taken through the train and his little cap is filled with cake and coin and his infant mind with wonderment and awe. He cannot understand it, and his baby face expresses the puzzled condition of his mind. Should he live it is hoped he will remember thePennsylvania Railroad Conductors’ Excursion.
We have now entered the plains of Texas and at 6.20 (5.20 Central) P. M. commence to pass through the prairie dog district. Brother Post is at the throttle; he ran No. 188 for about 50 miles and claims to have killed two jack rabbits and a prairie dog. Jack rabbits and prairie dogs are very numerous through this section, and can be seen scampering in all directions as the train thunders past. We are now nearing Big Springs, where a stop will be made to change engines. It has become dark, and we can no longer view the landscape, jack rabbits, and prairie dogs. We arrive at Big Springs 10.15 (9.15 Central) P. M., and after a delay of fifteen minutes leave with T. & P. engine No. 75, manned by Engineer D. C. Everley and Fireman Lewis Lem, whose run extends to El Paso, 347 miles. We have now entered the Great Staked Plains, and regretting that the darkness prevents us from seeing this famous country, we retire for the night at 12.20 (11.20 P. M. Central) A. M.
Turned out this morning about the usual time, and found the train standing at San Martine Station, 174 miles east of El Paso. As we move on our way again we find we are passing through a picturesque, but barren
Image not available: A GROUP AT VAN HORN, TEXAS.A GROUP AT VAN HORN, TEXAS.
Image not available: TOM McDONALD AND FRED BEACH.TOM McDONALD AND FRED BEACH.
country of plains and mountain ranges. A run of 50 miles from San Martine brings us to Van Horn, where we make a halt of forty-five minutes and are entertained by Mrs. M. R. Beach and her son Fred. Mrs. Beach has charge of the station at Van Horn, which is also a supply station for the railroad. Fred. is a young man about twenty-five years old, and a veritable cowboy both in appearance and deportment. He entertained and amused the party with an exhibition of bronco riding, and to show his skill in the use of the lasso, chased Brother Wyman and lassoed him with the bronco at a full run. Miss Myrtle Taylor, a young lady who is visiting Mrs. Beach, also rode the bronco for the amusement of the party, but it was noticed that the animal exhibited a far more gentle spirit under the young lady’s management than it did when in charge of Fred. A cyclone cellar in the back yard was an object of much interest, and the interior was explored by several of the party. All the dwellings, of which there are but few through this region, we are told, have their cyclone pits. For many miles through this country there are no habitations except along the line of the railroad, and the people are all employes of the Texas and Pacific Railroad Company.
Leaving Van Horn, we pass close to the Sierra Blanca Mountain range, and in a short time stop at Sierra Blanca, where we lay over for half an hour and devote the time to looking around. Sierra Blanca is 92 miles southeast of El Paso and is the conjunction of the Texas and Pacific and Southern Pacific Railroads, which use joint tracks from this point to El Paso. A number of us visited the adobe residence of Jacob Hand, an aged miner and prospector, who kindly allowed us to inspecthis dwelling, which is a very unique and novel affair, a part of which is used for a school, and the old gentleman is the teacher. Mr. Hand generously gave our party specimens of gold, silver, and copper ore, which are highly prized as souvenirs. Brother Haas had considerable difficulty in getting in range of the old gentleman with his kodak, but succeeded by strategy in getting a “snap” before we left; also one of a group of the party with the dwelling in the background. In the midst of the group is seen a Mexican babe held in the arms of one of the ladies of the party, who is closely watched by the mother of the infant, who fears her babe will be appropriated for a souvenir.
Leaving Sierra Blanca, we pass in sight and within about 20 miles of Livermore’s Peak, 8200 feet high, said to be the highest point in Texas. We have now entered a wild, barren, broken, uninhabited region, hemmed in by dreary, ominous-looking mountain ranges. As the road traverses this broken, desolate district, there are places where almost complete circles are made in order to avoid ridges and ravines. Just after passing Malone Station, 15 miles from Sierra Blanca, we encounter a curve, and after following the circle for over a mile, find the tracks are less than 200 yards apart.
Mrs. Wyman, Mrs. Layfield, Mrs. Shaw, Brother Layfield, and myself rode on the engine from Finlay to Ft. Hancock, which afforded us a fine view of the rugged scenery through which we passed. We arrived at washout, 5 miles east of El Paso, at 5.30 (4.30 Central) P. M., and find our train can proceed no further until the track is repaired, four miles of it at the present time being under water.
Image not available: MYRTLE TAYLOR ON A BRONCO.MYRTLE TAYLOR ON A BRONCO.
Image not available: RESIDENCE OF JACOB HAND, SIERRA BLANCA, TEXAS.RESIDENCE OF JACOB HAND, SIERRA BLANCA, TEXAS.
Wagons were in waiting to convey the party six miles across a desert plateau to El Paso at one dollar per head; all but a few took advantage of this method of reaching the city. The remembrance of this ride will not fade from the memory in a hurry—six miles of knee-deep, red-hot desert, dust and sand, through which the horses could scarcely drag their loads. We have a good view of the flooded district and notice many buildings surrounded with water, the occupants of which were forced to flee to higher ground. All this water, we are told, is the result of melting snows away up in the mountain districts, 75 or 80 miles away. There is seldom any rain through this region, and the Rio Grande, one half the year a shallow, insignificant stream, is to-day spread over many miles of country, causing devastation, ruin, and suffering.
Arriving in the city of El Paso, we are obliged to seek for accommodations, which causes a separation of our party. The Firemen’s State Convention is in progress here, and the town is full of visitors. Ten of us found rooms at the “Grand Central,” some at “Vendome,” and a number at the “Pierson.” The latter is the most popular place, and an effort was made to get the entire party quartered there, but it could not be done. After engaging rooms at the “Grand Central” we went across the river, which is not overflowed at this point, into the old Mexican town of Ciudad Juarez, the Paso del Norte of our childhood geographies.
Under the escort of Conductors T. H. Purcell and Charles Allen, of the Southern Pacific, we were shown much that was of interest. We were introduced by Captain Purcell to Signor Miguel Ahuamada, the gentlemanly Governor of the State of Chihuahua, who entertainedus very nicely for half an hour, giving us an international treat, which ceremony consists of drinks of whatever each member of the party wishes, the guests forming in a semicircle in front of the Governor, touching glasses with him as they pass. Captain Purcell at the same time made a speech in the Mexican language, with which he is thoroughly conversant, having at one time filled the position of Government Interpreter at this point. Of course none of us understood a thing that he said, but we felt sure it was all right from the pleased expression on his Honor’s, face, who replied in a pleasant manner in his native tongue.
Purcell told us afterward that he had informed the Governor that we were a party of Americans who had called to do him honor; that we drank to his health and a long and happy life; that we had the highest regard for Mexican institutions, believing them to be the best in the world; that their men were the noblest and their women the most beautiful we had ever met; that we wore upon our bosoms the colors of the Mexican flag, which we considered, next to the Stars and Stripes, the most beautiful banner in the world, and we hoped it would ever wave in triumph and in peace over an empire that would continue to increase in prosperity and wealth. No wonder the old man smiled; we would have smiled too had we understood what was being said. The red, white and green of our tourist badges had caught his eye and he was pleased. Captain Purcell’s speech flatters him and he wants to do something to show his appreciation.
Our visit does him great honor, and he desires to reciprocate; had he time to arrange for a bull fight he could give us much amusement, but his best bull waskilled a short time ago and his matadors are out of training; but he has a prisoner under the sentence of death, and if we will return on the morrow he will execute him for our pleasure and entertainment. Captain Purcell made us acquainted with this proposition, which we declined with thanks. We had no desire to see the poor fellow shot, which is their method of administering capital punishment. Bidding his Honor adieu, we are next escorted through several of the principal gambling resorts and are much interested in all we see. It is growing late, and when we return to El Paso and reach our rooms it is midnight.
Arose about 6.30 and found the morning clear and warm. There are many wonderful, strange, and unusual things in, around, and about El Paso, but one of the most puzzling and perplexing things is its time. Traveling westward you arrive on Central time and depart on Pacific, a difference of two hours, while in the city they use local time, which is a split between the two. Over the river in Juarez they use Mexican time. Visited a barber shop for a shave, then a restaurant for breakfast and got another shave; I was taxed one dollar and twenty cents for breakfast for two. We didn’t return for dinner.
Those of our party who did not visit Juarez last evening attended the State Firemen’s ball and banquet under the escort of Colonel Whitmore, Acting Mayor of El Paso, and Chief J. J. Connors, of the city fire department, and they all speak in the highest terms ofthe royal treatment they received and the grand time they had. The city of El Paso contains about 12,000 inhabitants, but the population is almost double that number this week, which gives the town a very lively appearance. We learn that our train cannot be gotten over the washout to-day, and arrangements are being made to remain in the city to-night. Engaged a pleasant room for fifty cents per day at the “Wellington,” corner of Staunton and Texas Streets, kept by Mrs. Whitmore; quite a number of our party are stopping here.
Brother Wyman hired a horse to-day and rode in the parade. It is very hot in the sun. Went over in front of the Court House this afternoon to see the firemen race. There was quite an exciting time. Brother Haas was there with his kodak and had a narrow escape from being run over in trying to get a “snap” at a team as the horses galloped past. Had a pleasant chat in the evening with Mr. Pettus, an old resident of the place, who has a furnishing store next to the “Wellington.” He is an entertaining man and gave some interesting information relative to the early history and habits of the country and people. I turned in about eleven o’clock, but can’t speak for them all, for this is an interesting city.
Turn out this morning about 7.30 and find the weather clear and warm. We go to a nearby restaurant for breakfast; mutton chops are one of the items on the bill of fare, and we are pleased, for we are partial to chops—nice, juicy, tender mutton chops; butthese chops do not quite come up to our idea of what mutton chops should be—not so juicy nor so tender as we would like; but being hungry we quietly and uncomplainingly devour what is set before us. “Where do you people in El Paso get your mutton?” I inquired of the waiter as we arose from the table (for I had no recollection of seeing a sheep since we entered the State of Texas). “Goats,” was the short but suggestive answer. A little private inquiry elicited the information that it is a fact that the greater part of the “mutton” consumed in El Paso is a product of the goatherd. The supply is apparently inexhaustible, for thousands of those ruminating, odoriferous quadrupeds can be seen roaming the adjacent plains and plateaus in great herds, attended by boys and dogs.
Accompanied Manager Wyman to Superintendent Martin’s office, where we learn “that there is no prospect of getting our train across the washout this week. The water has fallen but very little, and while we are working day and night, endeavoring to close the break, our progress is necessarily slow on account of the action of the high water, and the work cannot be completed sufficiently to get our train across until the water recedes. And no one knows,” continued Mr. Martin, “when this will be, for the water is just as likely to rise as to fall. The weather has been very hot these last few days and has melted the snow in the mountains very rapidly, which has caused the high water here. When the snow is gone the water will fall, so you see it depends upon the supply of snow, of which we know nothing about. If you wish to continue on your journey I will send you to Los Angeles by regular train,and when we succeed in getting your train across will send it on after you.”
Brother Wyman rather favors this proposition, as he desires to reach Los Angeles before the Grand Division adjourns, but the majority of our party will not agree to it, preferring to remain with the train and take their chance with it; so the idea of going ahead by regular train is abandoned. A party of us procured a four-horse team and went over to the train to-day, some to remain and others to return. Would have remained had Mrs. S. been along, for it is a dreadful hot trip of two and one-half hours across that burning sand.
We found our train sidetracked at Alfalfa, one mile east of the washout, and had one mile to walk after leaving the wagon. Alfalfa is not a place—it is only a name. There is a sidetrack here and a post with a board on it, and on the board is painted in large black letters the wordAlfalfa. That is all. It is a flagstop for accommodation trains, but there is no station, not even a shed, a platform, nor a plank. The nearest civilized communities are El Paso, 7 miles away to the west, and Fort Bliss, the same distance to the north. On the east end of the same sidetrack where our train lies are a number of cabooses of the Texas and Pacific construction train, occupied by Mexican families whose husbands and fathers are working on the repairs at the washout. They are a squalid, uninviting-looking set, but seem happy and contented with their lot.
Here and there in the edge of a sandbank can be seen a “dugout,” or, sheltered in a mesquite thicket, a “shack” occupied by the same nationality, who with their goats and burros are very pictures of meek andlowly contentment. These are the surroundings in the midst of which we are sidetracked. We find our people (those who are with the train) with smiles upon their faces as they tell us they are “all right” and are having a good and pleasant time. There must surely be an element or ingredient in this desert air and atmosphere that breeds contentment and repose.
Several of the boys went over to the train and back on broncos to-day, and experienced a hot but exhilarating ride. The party consisted of Brothers Waddington, Taylor, Matthews, Moore, Mattson, Leary, and Elder, who all claim that the ride, although a very hot one, was rare sport. The novel experience of a ride of 14 miles on a fiery, wiry Texan horse is a feature of their visit to El Paso that will not be forgotten.
Brother Wyman remained at Alfalfa to watch the progress of repairs at the washout, and I returned in the wagon to El Paso. Dining-car Conductor McDonald accompanied us; he was looking for a wagon-load of supplies for his car from El Paso that had not arrived. When about half way across the plateau we met the team. Mr. McDonald interviewed the driver to ascertain if his wagon was loaded with what had been ordered and found everything satisfactory.
As we leave behind us the hot, suffocating desert trail we pass close to the base of Mt. Franklin, in the shadow of which El Paso lies, and crossing the railroad tracks of the Fort Bliss Branch we feel a deep sense of relief as we strike the hard, smooth street that leads us into the city’s welcome shade and rest.
Learning on our arrival back that the El PasoTelegraph, a morning paper, contained an account of ourtrip and detention, we procured several copies and sent them East to friends.
The majority of our party went over to the train this afternoon; those remaining in town witnessed this evening a grand pyrotechnical exhibition under the auspices and management of the McGinty Club, a powerful social and political organization of El Paso. After the parade, during which there was a fine display of fireworks, the storming of Fort McGinty took place, which was the leading feature of the occasion. The fort, built of some light material, was erected on a neighboring hill, Roman candles and sky rockets were used as weapons by both the storming party and the defenders, which caused the mock battle to assume a very realistic appearance.
After the exhibition of fireworks a party of us visited the famous Astor House, kept by Col. Si Ryan. Si is one of the noted characters of El Paso. Years ago he was sheriff of three counties in Southern California, Mono, Inyo, and San Bernardino, and in dealing with the outlaws and renegades that infested the country at that time he achieved a reputation for nerve and courage that has never been surpassed, and the numerous scars upon his person, made by knife and bullet, bear silent testimony that he never shirked his duty in the face of danger or turned his back upon a foe. We find the colonel a prince of good fellows, and after enjoying his company and partaking of his hospitality, we repaired to the headquarters of the McGinty Club, and with a number of visiting firemen were royally entertained.
Brother McCarty was with us, and for some unexplainedreason he received special attention; but Charlie is a good fellow and deserves it, and being a bachelor it is all right. Several of us withdrew from the meeting before it adjourned, as it was drawing near midnight. We had spent a long and busy day and were tired. Soon reached my room at “The Wellington,” and retiring, endeavored to recall the various events of the day, but rushing water, desert dust, galloping broncos, McGinties, sky rockets, and smoke got mixed up in inextricable confusion as I lost consciousness in sleep.
Turned out this morning about seven o’clock and found the weather clear, with every indication pointing to another hot day. Not feeling very well, I went out in search of “medicine”; met several of the boys out on the same errand; our symptoms are similar, and we conclude that the powder smoke inhaled during the McGinty demonstration is responsible for our indisposition.
A visit to Superintendent Martin’s office results in the information that the washout situation remains unchanged. Mr. Martin can give us no encouragement. Brother Layfield and myself called on Mr. Joseph Sweeney during the morning and spent a pleasant hour with him. Learning that a party was being made up to return to the train, Mrs. Wyman, Mrs. Shaw, and myself join them. The Colonel and Mrs. Layfield desire to go, but the wagon is already crowded. The sun is intensely hot, and at 9.30 A. M. we leave El Paso for one more trip across that never-to-be-forgottenscorching desert plateau. The party consists of nine, including the driver, in a large transfer coach drawn by two horses. To relieve the overburdened animals, the men walk part of the way and keep a sharp lookout for rattlesnakes, for the driver had hinted that we might encounter some, as they are known to be quite numerous in this locality. Two large snakes of an unknown species were seen; one glided into a hole in the side of the bank of a deep arroyo, and we did not go to look for him; the other was discovered lying quietly behind a large sage bush by one of the “boys,” who silently imparted the information to the rest.
We gathered around, and looking where he pointed, saw a portion of his snakeship’s form through a small opening in the bush. “Think it would be safe to shoot at him?” whispered the discoverer of the snake, as he clutched his ever-ready revolver in his grasp. “Yes; blaze away,” answered a chorus of low voices.Bang!went the pistol, and we saw the snake slightly move, but it did not run away. “I hit him,” exclaimed our brother with the pistol; and we all moved cautiously around the bush to investigate. There he was, sure enough, a greenish-striped fellow about six feet long, but he had no head, and from his appearance it had been three or four days since he had lost it. Our marksman’s ball had struck the ground just underneath the body and turned it partly over, which movement had deceived us. I will say nomoreabout it lest you guess who did the shooting; not that I think he would care, for mistakes are being made every day by some of us that are worse than shooting dead snakes.
Arriving at our train about noon, after an absence
Image not available: FLOODED DISTRICT, ALFALFA, TEXAS.FLOODED DISTRICT, ALFALFA, TEXAS.
Image not available: WRECKED BY TRAIN ROBBERS ON SOUTHERN PACIFIC RAILWAY.WRECKED BY TRAIN ROBBERS ON SOUTHERN PACIFIC RAILWAY.
of three days, brings with it a feeling of relief, similar to getting home again. The majority of the party had preceded us, a number having come over yesterday. All express themselves as being glad to get back to the train, notwithstanding its uninviting surroundings and isolated condition. What we all appreciate very much and what goes far toward breaking the monotony of the situation is the fact that nearly all the Texas and Pacific and Southern Pacific trains stop here, and are very kind in furnishing us with water and ice when we need it.
Yesterday afternoon a Southern Pacific train stopped here that had been held up by train robbers a few miles east of Sierra Blanca. The safe in the express car was blown open with dynamite and robbed of a large amount of money. The train was held for one and a half hours while the work was being done. The passengers on the train were not molested. Some of our party entered the car and examined the wrecked safe, which was blown almost into fragments. A portion of the car roof was torn off by the force of the explosion and pieces of the safe were found in the sides and ends of the car. A parrot and a rooster in the car lost nearly all their feathers, but otherwise were apparently uninjured. Several of our party obtained parrot and rooster feathers and pieces of the safe as souvenirs. The Texan Rangers, we are told, are hot on the trail of the outlaws.
Manager Wyman has just returned from the washout and brings no encouragement. “The break cannot be repaired until the water falls two feet,” says Brother Wyman, “and it shows no disposition to fall.” “Give me two hundred men and the material to bridge thosearroyos and lay the track and I will have a railroad from here into El Paso across that desert plateau inside the time they have been waiting for this water to fall,” exclaimed Brother Sloane, spiritedly. “They won’t leave you do it, Charlie,” said Brother Terry, sympathetically. The arrival of six more of our people from El Paso and the announcement of dinner at the same time prevented further conversation in this direction.
We were favored with a light shower in the afternoon, which evidently stirred up the mosquitoes, for they are very numerous and aggressive this evening. This is a beautiful night. It is the full of the moon, and the clear, marvelous light it sheds is the most wonderful moonlight we have ever seen; so clear, so bright, and yet so soft; no one can describe it, for it is simply indescribable. Objects can be discerned at a remarkable distance, and Mt. Franklin, six miles away, looms up to the vision dark, grim, and majestic.
As our party one by one retire to their berths there is not a mind among them all but what is impressed with the beauty and grandeur of the night, the silence and serenity of which is broken only by the occasional barking of a watchful Mexican dog or the quarrelsome snarling of thieving coyotes.
To-day is clear and warm, with a delightful breeze stirring. We avoid the hot glare of the sun by remaining as much as possible on the shady side of the train. There are remarkable conditions of climate here. In the sun the heat is distressing, almost unbearable; in theshade it is more than comfortable, almost luxurious, producing a feeling of exuberant pleasure and vitality that is difficult to express or understand. There was a light thunder shower during the night, which no doubt had a tendency to further clarify and rarify this wonderful atmosphere. We are making the best of the situation; have plenty to eat and drink, but there is a scarcity of water for washing purposes, although large irrigating ditches are close to hand, but the waters are too muddy for use.
About noon a Southern Pacific work train came along and supplied our cars with water, which is hauled in large wooden tanks holding about 4000 gallons each. It is brought from Lasca, about 70 miles east of Alfalfa. S. P. engine No. 904 is drawing the train which is supplying us with water, Engineer John Condon, Conductor G. M. Seamonds, Brakemen J. M. Bates and Charles McDonald, who are very kind and obliging, carefully supplying each car with all the water needed. Manager Wyman has just received a telegram from Superintendent Martin saying that the break situation is not improving, and suggests that our committee make arrangements to go some other way.
Brakeman Charles Gunning, who has been with us since we left Ft. Worth, made suggestions to our committee which were immediately taken up, viz., that we return to Sierra Blanca and from there take the Southern Pacific to Spofford Junction, thence over Eagle Pass and the Mexican International to Torreon, then up over the Mexican Central to El Paso, making a triangle trip of about 1450 miles. The committee immediately set out to communicate with the railroad officials, and weare all waiting anxiously to know the result of the conference.
In the meantime work at the washout must have progressed with remarkable rapidity, for some one just from there brings the highly encouraging report that the break in the track is trestled over and the prospect of getting us away soon is good. This report comes less than three hours after Manager Wyman had received a message from Superintendent Martin saying “he could give us no hope; that we had better go some other way.” Is it any wonder that we are doubtful of the good news and regard it as a fake? But it is true, nevertheless, for Brothers Wyman and Maxwell have just returned and verify the report, adding “that if the water does not rise again we will go out of here to-morrow.”
Brothers Wyman, Maxwell, Sheppard, Gilliland, and myself walked down to the washout this evening and came back in the caboose of the work train. It is about three miles from where our train lies to the break in the track that has caused so much labor and anxiety. The greater part of this work is performed by Mexicans, and they have been working day and night, much of the time up to the waist in water, in order to get the break repaired. More of our party came over from El Paso this evening; they are all over now but two or three. Brothers Haas and Smith and Mrs. Smith went over to El Paso to-day to go by regular train to Los Angeles.
When Brother John Reilly came over to the train he brought with him a very much corroded revolver, presented as a souvenir to the Pennsylvania Railroad conductors’ excursion party by Col. Si Ryan. The revolver belonged to George Daley, mining engineer, of Lake
Image not available: WILLIAM J. MAXWELL, OF THE COMMITTEE.WILLIAM J. MAXWELL, OF THE COMMITTEE.
Valley, New Mexico, who was killed by Indians September 9th, 1878. The revolver was found on the alkali plains where Engineer Daley met his death. The alkali had eaten off all the woodwork and corroded with rust the iron. It is an interesting relic and highly valued as a souvenir.
The “boys” have been patrolling the train at night since we have been sidetracked here. I have volunteered to go on second watch to-night, and turned in at eleven o’clock, expecting to be called at 2 A. M. for patrol duty.
Awakened at 2.30 this morning by Brother George Dale, and with Brother Sam Horner go on duty to watch and to wait for morning to come. There is nothing else for us to do; all is quiet outside and around the train as we promenade back and forth on the alert for anything of a suspicious nature. The morning is clear and bright and the air cool and refreshing. Brother Kilgore, who sleeps near the roof in the car “Milton,” is doing some vigorous snoring, and Brother Houston, in the rear of the “Orchis,” is talking earnestly in his sleep. We catch an occasional glimpse of a skulking dog or coyote seeking for food amongst the scraps thrown from the train, but no marauder appears to molest us. A heavy 44-caliber six-shooter, presented to the writer just before starting on the trip by Lyttleton Johnson, Esq., of Chadd’s Ford, Pa., has been at the service of our watchmen, and we feel that we are well armed. When not in possession of the watchmen, Baggagemaster George Anderson sleeps with it under his pillow.
The coming of day and the stir of the occupants of the cars relieve us from duty, and we strike out through the mesquite thicket to reconnoitre and obtain a view of our surroundings. Less than 200 yards from the train we come to a deep, wide, irrigating canal, through which the muddy water is rushing in a torrent. We can go no further in this direction and conclude to follow the stream in quest of a bridge. We go but a short distance when the thicket becomes impenetrable, and we retreat, and cutting a cane from the thicket as a memento of our little walk, we return to the train, glad to find that breakfast is ready and to learn that an effort will be made to get us over the break to-day.
Brother Wyman has been closely watching the progress of the repairs, and under the supervision of Master Mechanic H. Small, the work these last two days has made very rapid advancement. The sun is scorching hot and the forenoon is spent by the party sitting in groups in the shadow of the train discussing the various features of the situation, and many are the surmises as to what will be the result of an attempt to cross that sea of water over the repaired and trestled tracks with a train of cars of such weight as ours. We feel that the risk is great, but realize the effort to get us over is to be made, when about 1 P. M. S. P. engine No. 719, in charge of Engineer M. Love, is run in against our train and we are pushed, with six construction cars ahead of us, out on the main track and up toward the flooded district. Conductor J. H. Ludwig has charge of the train, and in him Mrs. Ed. Foster recognizes a cousin whom she had not seen for many years. The recognition is mutual and the meeting a happy one. Theknowledge that the conductor is related to and personally known by a member of our party creates a feeling of confidence that almost assures our safe deliverance.
We have now reached high water and our train is being slowly pushed farther and farther into a gurgling, surging, muddy flood until the dreaded break is reached, with miles of water all around us. The repaired track, propped and trestled, settles and sinks out of sight when it receives the weight of the cars, that toss and roll and creak in a manner which, if it does not frighten us, fills us with much concern, for we are afraid we will lose our train in the flood. A sudden stop, caused by the bursting of an air-brake hose on the engine, fills us with alarm. “We are lost,” murmured Mrs. Maxwell, and her face wore a frightened look. “Not yet,” replied Brother Schuler, and his assurance gave us comfort; but the few minutes delay caused by the accident was almost fatal, for our heavy dining car had settled until its wheels were covered with water and the repairsmen thought a rail had broken beneath its weight. In water almost up to their necks the men made an examination of the track under the car and found it intact.
The signal was given to move ahead, and as slowly the sunken car comes into position, hearts become lighter and faces grow brighter; the dreadful suspense is over, and we give more attention to our surroundings. We see many fine residences surrounded by water, and large fields of grain inundated and ruined. We are two hours coming through the four miles of high water. Slowly and carefully we are safely brought through, and all concerned are entitled to the highest praise for the able and judicious manner in which the train was handled.
Arriving at the Southern Pacific station in El Paso about three o’clock, and finding we have an hour before leaving, many avail themselves of the opportunity of taking a parting look at this interesting city and bidding adieu to the many kind friends who have done so much toward making our forced stay a pleasant and happy one. Four of our party, under the escort of Brother Sloane, have taken a trip over to Juarez, and much uneasiness and concern is felt for them, as the time is up for our train to go and they have not returned. The engine whistle is sounded long and loud to call them in, but they do not come. “They have gone over there to make some purchases,” asserts Brother Sheppard, “and I fear have been arrested for trying to evade the customs laws.” “No fear of that,” replies Captain Purcell, who has charge of our train, “you may rest assured that no member of your party will be molested by the customs officers. The courtesy and freedom of the cities of El Paso and Juarez have been extended to you, and the badge you wear is a guarantee of your safety.” “Yes,” adds Col. Si Ryan, who is on hand to see us off, “Diaz wouldn’t allow any of you Pennsylvanians pinched if you should carry off the whole State of Chihuahua, for his Honor thinks Pennsylvania the greatest and best State of the Union, with the exception, of course, of Texas,” and there is a proud, faraway look in the Colonel’s eye as he contemplates the enormous area and the illimitable possibilities of the great Lone Star State. Notwithstanding the assurance of Captain Purcell and Colonel Ryan, Brother Post is very much concerned, for Miss Ella is with the absent party, and he has gone to look for them. Brothers Moore and Dougherty have
Image not available: COL. SI RYAN.COL. SI RYAN.
taken advantage of the delay and are off looking for souvenirs. Those who are waiting for the return of the absent ones are growing very impatient, and when at last they are seen coming, impatience and uneasiness give way to feelings of relief and gladness, and Brother Sloane is forgiven once more on the plea “that it was a misunderstanding of the time that caused the trouble,” and gave it as his opinion that “El Paso time is one of the most confusing problems that ever worried a tourist.”
The deep-toned engine bell peals out the warning that the train is about to start; “All aboard” is shouted, the last hand shake is given, and at 5.45 (2.45 Pacific) P. M., just five days, six hours, and forty-five minutes late, our train rolled out of the Southern Pacific Station and across the Rio Grande, leaving behind the pretty and interesting city of El Paso and our many new-found friends, whose liberality and kindness will ever remain a pleasant and happy memory with us. Our train is drawn by S. P. engine No. 1395, in charge of Engineer Joseph Bird and fired by J. V. Paul, who accompany us to Tucson, 312 miles. Conductor T. H. Purcell and Brakeman E. G. Shaub go with us to Yuma, 563 miles.
We are in New Mexico, having entered it when we crossed the Rio Grande River. The country is wild and barren and the railroad very crooked. Engineer Bird, in his eagerness to make up the lost time, is running at a speed which Manager Wyman thinks is not consistent with safety. The cars rock and roll in an alarming manner, and several dishes have been broken in the dining car, which calls forth a protest from our friend McDonald of that most cherished department. Brother Wymanimmediately requests Conductor Purcell to instruct the engineer to reduce speed, which is done, much to the relief and comfort of all on board. Brother Joseph Flory, of St. Louis Division No. 3, State Railroad and Warehouse Commissioner, of Jefferson City, Mo., and Harry Steere, Esq., traveling passenger agent of the Southern Pacific Railroad, are our guests from El Paso to Los Angeles, and a much appreciated acquisition to our party.
They have a fund of useful and interesting information on hand pertaining to the country through which we are passing, which they impart to us in a pleasant and entertaining manner. “What place is this, Mr. Steere?” we inquire as a pretty little town bursts upon our vision. “This is Deeming,” replies Mr. Steere, “and it is quite an important place. We are now 88 miles from El Paso, and this is the first town we have seen. A few years ago it was as barren and uninhabitable here as any of the desolate country through which we have passed, but good water was discovered a few feet below the surface of the ground, and now the place is noted for its many wells of fine water, which is shipped for hundreds of miles and is also used for irrigating purposes, for nothing will grow throughout this region unless it is artificially watered. The thrifty young shade trees, the shrubbery and patches of verdant vegetation you noticed as we passed through Deeming is convincing evidence that all this region needs, to make it one of the most fertile and productive countries in the world, is plenty of water.”
For 60 miles further we pass through this region of desert plateaus known as the plains of Deeming. Thedust is almost suffocating and sifts through every crack and crevice, the double, almost air-tight, windows of the Pullmans being insufficiently close to keep it out. At the little station of Lordsburg, 60 miles from Deeming, Engineer Bird stops to water his iron horse. “This supply of water,” remarked Mr. Steere, “is brought here in pipes from a large spring or lake in yonder mountain, five miles away.”
Looking in the direction indicated, we can see through the gathering dusk of evening the dark outlines of a mountain in the distance. “ ’Tis a pity,” continued Mr. Steere, “that you were not enabled to pass through this section during daylight, for there are some things I should like you to see. We are drawing near the Arizona line, and the scenery is becoming more broken and varied. Those mountains which you can dimly discern on your right are composed of cliffs and crags of reddish rock of a peculiar and interesting formation. On the left the great San Simon Valley stretches away to the south for a distance of 75 or 80 miles, and is the grazing ground for many thousands of cattle. One company alone, the San Simon Cattle Company, it is said, has a herd of nearly 100,000 head.” “What do they feed on, Mr. Steere?” I asked, for visions of the dust-environed plains of Deeming were still floating in my mind. “This great valley,” answered Mr. Steere, “through the northern boundary of which we are now passing, is not nearly so dry as the more elevated country through which we have passed. There are occasionally short periods of wet weather which produces pasture very rapidly, the pasture consisting chiefly of what is known through here as gama grass, which growsvery fast and luxuriant and possesses great feeding qualities. The strangest but most valuable feature of this peculiar vegetation is that it retains all its sweetness and nutrition after it is dead and brown, and stock feed upon it with as much avidity in a dry and sapless condition as they do when they find it in the green and juicy stage of life and growth.
“Away to the south, bounding this immense valley, is a wild and rocky range of the Chiricahua Mountains, said to be from time immemorial the rendezvous of renegades and desperadoes, one of the most noted being an outlaw Apache Indian called the ‘Arizona Kid,’ whose depredations and crimes were a terror to all the surrounding country. And were it only light,” continued Mr. Steere, “I would show you one of the most notable landmarks on the Southern Pacific Road. Away over to the south there, clearly outlined against the sky, is a mountain formation that plainly resembles the up-turned profile of a human face. It is called ‘Cochise’s Head,’ bearing a strong likeness, it is said, to Cochise, the most noted chieftain of the Apache tribe.”
We have now reached what is known as “Territorial Line,” about midway between the little stations of Stein’s Pass and San Simon. Conductor Purcell kindly stops the train at this point, giving those who wish the opportunity and privilege of gathering some mementoes of the occasion and locality. I look at my watch; it is 11.20 P. M. “Philadelphia” time, 8.20 P. M. “Territorial Line” time; it is pretty dark for the business on hand, but the post that marks the dividing line is easily found, and in a very short time is so badly cut and splintered by the relic hunters that it looks as though it had been struck bylightning. Several standing astride the designated and imaginary dividing line picked pebbles from New Mexico and Arizona at the same time. In five minutes we are on our way again, and in a short time thereafter the snores of the tourists heard above the rumble of the train proclaim that “the weary are at rest.”
Got up this morning about the usual time and found that we had passed Tucson in the early part of the morning and had changed engines at that point. We have now S. P. engine No. 9030, Engineer J. W. Bunce and Fireman J. Weir, who run us to Yuma, a distance of 251 miles. It cannot always be day, nor we cannot always be awake, so when night comes and we sleep we miss much that is novel and interesting. “You have missed much since entering Arizona that is well worth seeing,” I hear Mr. Steere remark to several of the party with whom he is conversing as I enter the smoker. “During the night we have passed through the most wonderful cactus country in the world, many of the plants rising to the height of thirty and forty feet; but you will see similar plants should you pass through the Antelope Valley, Cal., in daytime after leaving Los Angeles. You also missed seeing the town of Benson, which is one of the important places on this line, where we connect with the New Mexico and Arizona and the Arizona and Southwestern Railroads; and it is really too bad that you did not get at least a passing look at Tucson, for there is only one Tucson in the world. It is one of the oldest and queerest placesin the United States, and a place with a history. The population is estimated to be about 8000, and nearly all of the residences are of adobe construction. Claims are made that it was first settled by the Spanish in 1560.” A call to breakfast interrupted Mr. Steere’s interesting talk as we all make a break for the dining car.
All the morning we have been descending the Gila River Valley, and the picturesque, complex scenery of mountain, plain, and valley has been much enjoyed by all. As we approach Yuma, situated on the Colorado River, in the extreme southwestern corner of Arizona, we can scarcely realize that in the 251 miles we have come since leaving Tucson we have dropped from an altitude of 2390 feet to that of 140 feet, the elevation of Yuma, but such is the case, according to the figures given on the time table of the Southern Pacific Railroad which I hold in my hand, and which Captain Purcell and Mr. Steere both declare is correct beyond a shadow of doubt, adding “that the Southern Pacific Railroad Company was never known to publish a falsehood or make a mistake.”
We arrive at Yuma 12.30 P. M. Eastern (9.30 A. M. Pacific), and make a stop of fifteen minutes. The station is a low-built, commodious building, surrounded on three sides by extensive grounds in which flowers are blooming in profusion. A number of bouquets were gathered by the ladies. Several native Indians are about the station having for sale trinkets and toys of their own manufacture. It is a strange and novel sight to behold these old remnants of an almost extinct race and tribe dressed in the scant and grotesque garb of their nativity, with their faces and the exposed