Captain Graves was a methodical man, and kept a minute record in the form of a diary of everything that occurred from day to day.
There were volumes in his cabin on the plateau that related the adventures and vicissitudes of his life from the time of the Mexican war down. They were wonderfully interesting.
Here is the account of his trip with Tom and likewise the opinion that he had formed of us three boys.
"It has been a real pleasure for me to have the three boys, Jim, Jo and Tom, with me. One sometimes grows tired of being always alone, even when surrounded by all the beauties of nature and even one's books fail to interest at times.
"So it has meant a good deal to me to have the boys as my companions for the past months, to see them through their various adventures and to instruct them in the few things that I know well, such as woodcraft and mountaineering.
"I have had Tom with me of late, because he seems somewhat isolated from the other two boys by his nature, and though no younger than Jo he is smaller and this makes me regard him more carefully.
"He is an exceedingly bright lad, though cursed with a rather sharp tongue. The other two, like to stir him up, and since his return from the east they make life interesting for him by joking him about being a tenderfoot.
"Jo is an interesting boy, and though he is fond of books, I predict that he will be a soldier. He is obedient to orders, and will gain self-reliance as he goes along. Physically, he is quick, and has great endurance.
"Jim is the oldest and the leader. He has in him the making of an ideal scout. He is resourceful, cool headed and has great audacity, which will be tempered by experience as he goes along. Jim has also uncommon physical strength, superior to that of most men.
"The West is fine training ground for these three, and it will make men of them. Sometime they may be of real service to their country and if I can teach them anything from my experience I will consider it a privilege.
"Now, I must chronicle something of Tom's and my hunting trip and the subsequent adventures that befell us.
"Jo and Jim took their cayuses and went down the canyon, where we had made camp, to the plains, looking for antelope, while Tom and I went back in the mountains to see if we could not locate some mountain sheep.
"I remembered hunting through this region in the old days, some years after the Mexican War, and at that time it was a splendid section for big game, but now I did not expect to find a great deal, for the Apaches were hunting this region continually.
"We worked our way slowly back into the range, but saw no game until near the middle of the afternoon when Tom discovered three goats high up on a cliff. Tom's eyes are remarkably keen. In this he excels his two brothers, and mine are beginning to show the effect of the years.
"The goats saw us coming and jumped up the side of that apparently precipitous rock, nimble as fleas. I knew perfectly well how they would make tracks, so we took a wide detour and came into a high valley on the other side.
"We could just make out two white specks among some rocks at the top of the valley and we approached them under cover, but they were wary and I was finally forced to risk a chance shot.
"Two of them had disappeared over the ridge of the valley to the west, but the old Billie stood for a moment poised on a rock looking our way. He was slantways to me. Without dismounting I took aim and fired.
"To my surprise he slid from that rock in a hurry. Tom was jubilant and I was not displeased, for it was one of the prettiest shots that it has been my good fortune to make.
"The goat was a very good specimen and as the boys cannot take him along with them on their trip, I shall have his curly horned head in my cabin on the wall, facing the elk's head.
"It was too late for us to get back that night to the camp, as we were about a day's trip distant. So we decided to make camp in the valley. I was not worried about Jim and Jo, for I felt sure that they could take care of themselves, and I did not really expect them to make the canyon camp either.
"The next day, we hunted slowly down. About noon we started a bunch of goats and they led us a merry chase. At one time I thought we had them cornered. But they were wiser than the hunters, for just as we were in range, they disappeared into a cave in the precipitous wall of rock.
"I decided that we had best be satisfied with our luck, and push on to the camp. It did not take us more than a couple of hours to reach the canyon, but no sooner did we come to the slight trail leading down it, than I made a discovery.
"I jumped hastily off from my horse and examined a footprint in a bit of shelving gravel. A little further on I caught it again.
"'Tom,' I whispered, 'I shall have to scout a little. Here's a live Apache track only a few minutes old. You stay here and keep watch up the canyon, and I will see what this beggar is up to.'
"Silently and stealthily I made my way down the canyon. When I came in sight of the camp the two pack horses were nowhere to be seen. Then I knew what had happened.
"I lost no time in following the Indian, who was was driving off our animals. I hoped to catch him before he got out on the plains, and I caught sight of him after I had gone a half a mile.
"He was a rather short, squat Indian, but powerfully built. I could have shot him in the back, but I hated to do that even to an Apache thief. So I followed quickly on his trail. Once he turned suspiciously, but I dropped instantly to cover.
"With a silent rush I came up behind him and when I was about ten feet away, he turned, and before he had recovered from his instantaneous surprise, I had smashed him down with the butt of my rifle.
"My next move was to tie him up good and fast, and then gag him. Then I went back for Tom, who was much relieved to see me.
"'Where are the boys?' he inquired anxiously.
"'They evidently haven't returned,' I replied, 'but I am sure they are all right.'
"But I, too, was worried, though I did not wish to alarm Tom. So I put the best face on it that was possible.
"'Did you see the Apache?' asked Tom.
"'Yes, and fortunately before he saw me,' I replied.
"'Did you get him?'
"'Just in time,' I replied, 'he was helping himself to our pack animals, when I arrested him with my rifle.'
"'Where is he now?' Tom inquired.
"'Oh, he is down the canyon a ways snugly tied up in a bundle.'
"I determined to get some idea of where the missing boys were. So I left Tom to guard the pack animals and I rode down to the mouth of the canyon and found the trail easily, where they had ridden south in the search for antelope.
"I was by this time thoroughly alarmed, and the conviction forced itself on me that they had been killed by the Apaches, but I shook the thought off. I would not have it so.
"That Jim and Jo were in difficulties of some kind was certain, and it was up to me to get them out of it. But what should I do, and where should I look? Then suddenly the problem was solved for me. I had ridden to a place where I could see the whole sweep of plains to the south, but keeping under cover of the growth of oaks that fringed the base of the foot hills, when I saw a war party of Apaches at a distance of several miles, making straight for the mountain.
"Instinctively I recognized their object and I likewise knew that so large a party would not be going back into the mountains so late in the day unless upon some special quest.
"In a short time the whole party of braves had disappeared into a canyon whose location I marked exactly. They have got those boys corraled in there, I said to myself, there is no question about that. I bet they are making a brave fight, those two, but they will have reinforcements pretty soon, or my name is not Captain Graves.
"'Did you see any signs of them?' inquired Tom eagerly, as I came up to him.
"'I have them located,' I replied.
"'Where?'
"'Only in a general way, but I suspect that the Apaches have them located specifically.'
"'But not staked out,' said Tom.
"A shudder went through me, for Tom did not realize the significance of the phrase with its suggestion of Indian torture.
"'No,' I said, 'they won't be staked out if the captain is active enough to get around this section of the country.'
"I did not like the canyon, where we had made our camp previously, as it seemed to be a thorough-fare for the Apaches, so I decided to make a move even if it was now growing dusk.
"'We will make a start this evening, Tom,' I said, 'this is a pretty situation, but there are some things I don't like about it.'
"'All right, captain,' he replied, 'whatever you say.'
"So we started driving our pack horses before us."
"Dusk had fallen as we made our way out of the canyon, and we proceeded slowly along a rather bare and rounding ridge, under the light of the stars.
"From this ridge ran several canyons downwards towards the plains. We passed the heads of two of them, and at the third I stopped. This was the one which I had seen the Indians entering from the plain.
"'Can you make out anything down there in the darkness, Tom?' I asked.
"Tom peered keenly into the gloom below us.
"'I believe I can catch a glimpse of a fire down there,' he answered.
"But I did not have to depend on Tom's eye-sight altogether, for my hearing was acute, even if my sight had become somewhat defective and I was positive that I heard the Apache war cry.
"I determined, however, to make a closer investigation to see exactly how the land lay. There was a possibility that I might be able to reach the boys in the darkness, if they were besieged in the canyon below, as I now felt positive they were.
"The first thing, however, was to find some suitable place for a camp, where I could leave Tom with the horses, while I made my reconnaissance.
"It was somewhat difficult to do in the darkness, but at last I located a camp on the south side of the south ridge of the canyon. There were some great boulders with a semi-circle of trees or brush shutting in one side of the rocks.
"When I had Tom safely ensconced in our new camp, I gave him his orders and started to see what I could discover. I was armed with my revolver and a knife in my belt, as I wanted to be free to move quickly, and to fire instantly.
"I made no noise as I slipped over the ground in my moccasined feet. I could, from long experience, make myself as stealthy and invisible as any Indian and I moved noiselessly down the side of a broad valley, for such it was, rather than a canyon.
"I was approaching a high hill that rose in the center of the valley, and was making my way down a narrow hunting trail through some brush, when I became aware that there was someone coming down the trail behind me.
"I pressed close into some bushes and waited perfectly silent, as though turned to stone. In a minute I saw a dark figure coming down the trail. It was a gigantic brave and he passed so close to me that he almost stepped on my feet.
"It was fortunate he did not, for I must acknowledge a corn on one of my toes. It would have been as much as his life was worth for him to have trod on it.
"After he had gone I took up the trail again, but more cautiously. In a short time I had approached within a few hundred yards of the big hill and found myself in a regular nest of Indians. They seemed to spring up all around me. All that I could do was to lie still between two rocks.
"At any moment I might be stepped on and discovered. I could see the hill rising above me in the darkness, with its great crown of white rock. It was very quiet up there, but once I thought I heard a horse whinny.
"I was not sure that the boys were the ones that the Apaches had surrounded, as some soldiers or hunters might be the unfortunate object of all this attention from the Apaches.
"I was beginning to wonder how I was to get out of my predicament, when there seemed to be something preparing on the east side of the hill. I could see dark figures creeping up that side, keeping under the cover of the rocks as much as they could.
"I wanted to give the defenders of the fort some signal of warning, but I was perfectly helpless, but I soon found that whoever was on guard was not to be caught napping.
"For a succession of shots came from the top of the rock fort.
"'No, you don't,' I heard a familiar voice. 'You boys can go right home and go to sleep.' It was Jim and it was all that I could do to keep from giving him a cheer.
"But if I was going to be of any help to them, I must get out of the situation with a whole scalp. So I took advantage of this diversion to get out of the vicinity of the Apaches.
"In a few minutes I was free of their lines and was making my way back through the valley, and crossing over the bridge, I approached the place where I had left Tom.
"My mind was so engrossed with my plans for the morrow that I did not realize that I was so close to the camp until I heard, 'Halt, who's that?' From the tone I judged Tom was alarmed.
"'It's the captain,' I replied promptly.
"'I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure,' said Tom. 'I'm mighty glad to see you back again.'
"'It's a privilege to be here safely,' I admitted. 'I have discovered where Jim and Jo are.'
"'Where?' exclaimed Tom.
"'They are on a high hill in the middle of the valley on the other side of the ridge, surrounded by Apaches.'
"'Can they hold out?' inquired Tom anxiously.
"'As far as I can judge they can stand them off as long as the water and food hold out. I guess they haven't lost their spunk either. I heard Jim yell for them to go home and go to sleep after they had made a demonstration on one side and he had given them a salute of three shots, driving them to cover.'
"'That's just like Jim,' exclaimed Tom in admiration. 'He's the lad with the nerve all right. But what are you going to do to rescue them, captain?'
"'We will have to study the situation by daylight to-morrow, and then we will know better what to do.'
"'How many Apaches were they, captain?' asked Tom.
"'There was enough to go round, but don't you worry, Tom. Get a good night's sleep and then you will be ready for whatever comes.'
"I guess Tom took my advice to heart, for in a few minutes I heard a heavy breathing from his roll of blankets. It was very comfortable in our sheltered camp with the big granite boulders back of us and the screen of trees and bushes in front.
"There is something mysterious and wonderful about night in the mountains and though I have lived for years in their presence, this has never become common to me. There is the dim bulk of the mountains all around, the moaning and moving of the mysterious winds through pines and aspens, and overhead the wondrous clearness of the innumerable stars.
"I did not pretend to sleep as I lay there in my blankets, but kept turning over in my mind different plans for the morrow. It would do no good to try and join forces, for if by a determined rush we could break through their lines and get into the fort, there would be just two more to feed.
"Was there any way in which I could get food and water to them? This was the first idea that I wrestled with. Perhaps with my craft I might be able to get through on an overcast night with provisions and water.
"Another idea came to me. I might get the help of the U. S. soldiers from the nearest fort in New Mexico, but that was one hundred and fifty miles distant and time was precious. There was no assurance that the boys could hold out until assistance should come. Finally, about midnight, I, too, fell asleep, but not soundly, as the situation was always half consciously before me.
"I woke up in the early dawn, and it did not take Tom and me long to get through our breakfast. After we had watered our horses at a stream in the bottom of a ravine, about a half mile distant, we proceeded to reconnoiter the situation.
"I felt that something must be done this day and it was certainly a perplexing condition of affairs, and in many ways it was desperate. The responsibility for the two beleaguered boys weighed on me.
"One thing gave me assurance and that was Jim Darlington's resource and pluck. At least he and Jo knew enough not to be taken alive by those fiendish Apaches. However, it must not come to that.
"We went along below the south side of the ridge until opposite the hill fort, but I was not able to take any observation on account of the thick covering of trees, so I left Tom there and worked my way down the valley slope of the mountain until I was within a half mile of the hill.
"Then I came to a great pine that towered like a commanding general above the rank and file of common trees. I drove my knife deep into its trunk, and this gave me a foothold from which I was able to reach a lower branch.
"Quickly I clambered up until I was high enough to look over the surrounding trees. Cautiously I gazed down from behind the trunk. Everything was spread out before me. I could see the two ponies standing on the top of the hill.
"Jo and Jim were moving about inside their defences, apparently indifferent. I could see how cleverly they had built up their fort. If there was only some way in which I could let them know that I was near.
"But what appalled me was the number of the Apaches. I could see that there were hundreds of them moving like stealthy, cruel snakes through the undergrowth.
"My jaw gripped itself and my resolution hardened. Something must be done. I descended swiftly from the tree, and as I went back up the slope, my mind was working at high tension. Then, when I reached the top of the ridge my plan came to me. And I struck my leg with my clenched hand. 'I have it! I have it!' I exclaimed.
"It was a broad, desperate scheme, but it would work, it must work. I took careful note of the weather, not a cloud was to be seen anywhere. 'That's good,' I said, 'no rainstorms to-day. Now for a good wind and from the looks of things it's going to come,' and it did.
"Later it came on to blow, as it only can in the high altitudes.
"It was a wind from the New Mexican Desert, blowing through the canyons and roaring over the summits of the range. The fierce wind that blows from stark, clear horizons."
It was the afternoon of the third day of our imprisonment that Jim and I had first discovered the forest fire.
"I suppose we will be like two beautiful browned potatoes with the jackets on," laughed Jim, who could not be disconcerted by any crisis. "Don't you worry, Jo, we will be pretty safe here I'm thinking."
We watched the rolling clouds of smoke with decided interest. The whole of the south side of the range seemed involved and no line of battle ever sent up more dense volumes of smoke.
"What do you suppose started it?" I asked.
"It could happen in several ways," replied Jim. "It might be by some wandering Indians or a trapper. Then again a stroke of lightning might have started it."
"They are not uncommon anyway," I remarked. "You can tell that by the thousands of dead trees that are fallen in the mountains."
"The new growth comes on quick, that's one good thing," said Jim.
We stood watching the rolling columns of smoke with fascinated interest. It seemed as if the whole south range had burst into a dozen eruptive volcanoes.
"Is that roaring sound the fire?" I asked.
"No, that must be the wind that is driving it," replied Jim.
"It won't do a thing to this valley," I said. "Just look at the thick brush that covers the mountain side."
"Yes," remarked Jim, "and those pine trees, my! won't they burn?"
"I bet it will beat a prairie fire," I said.
"That's the one thing that we missed in Kansas," remarked Jim.
"But this will make up for it," I commented quickly.
"Yes, I reckon it will be more exciting than that cyclone twister that came near wafting us away," Jim said.
It was a lurid night when the sun went down in the clouds of smoke like a great red ball. Then as night came on we saw the glare of the fire in the smoke and the rolling clouds were great red columns flowing in white capitals.
"Here she comes," cried Jim.
As he spoke a great pine on the upper crest was transformed into a pillar of flame. The first crackle became a whole roaring volley as the charging fire swept to the summit, its red chargers spurred on by the furious winds. Nothing could stop its victorious onslaught.
Not only were the old warrior pines that had stood the attacks of countless storms and bitter winters overcome, but the tenderer children of the younger growth were devoured and the maiden saplings with them.
"It's grand," exclaimed Jim in wild enthusiasm. "I'm so glad we came. Wouldn't have missed this for a good deal, I can tell you."
"I don't care for the panorama," I replied. "I should like to have my money back and go home."
"The horses are beginning to wake up too," said Jim. "They don't like it."
"That's where they show their good sense," I observed.
They certainly were becoming nervous. At first they regarded the fire with their heads up and ears pricked forward. Then Piute began to stampede around the corral, snorting and plunging. I thought that he was going to rear over the fort.
"He must think that he is a circus horse," laughed Jim. "Whoa, my wild Arab!"
But the wild Arab was not be cajoled, and Jim had to strong arm him by the means of a rope. Then he stood trembling, crazy eyed and with flaming nostrils.
It was indeed a terrible sight as the flames swept down the whole mountain slope towards our isolated hill. The entire valley was illuminated with one brilliant glare of flame. However, the fire did not roll down in one solid wave, the pines stood too isolated for that.
But each pine rose in a single blaze with a swish, a crackle and a roar, but there were hundreds of them and it was a splendid but awful sight—a riot of fire and the flying embers were like stars in the smoke.
"We have only a few minutes now," suddenly announced Jim, "quick, get the saddles."
"What for?" I asked. "We surely can't ride through the fire."
"It's the very luck I was looking for," he exclaimed. "It's our chance to escape, don't you see?"
We got the saddles and flung them on the ponies, cinching them good and tight, and then put on the bridles.
"We are going to run for it," I cried in sheer amazement.
"No," said Jim in disgust, "what chance would we have. That fire would catch us before we got fairly started and I don't trust those Indians till they have been burned over once. They can scheme as well as we."
"Don't you think they have skipped out before this?" I asked.
"I wouldn't trust 'em to do what any white man might expect. Look out, Jo, she's coming now."
The embers began to fall all around us, but there was nothing for them to catch, as we had taken good care, you may be sure, to have every bit of brush cleared from our fort. Fortunately for us our hill was wooded only around the base.
Even then the heat was intense. It seemed to me as though my skin was shriveling up, and every once in awhile the waves of smoke would almost submerge us in their acrid, stifling vapor.
Then we were in the midst of it as it swept around our hill on all sides and the great pines below were turned into flaming spears that seemed to thrust themselves at our stronghold.
It was like being in the thick of a great battle, the crackling, the roar of the flames and stifling smoke, the crash of falling trees. It seemed like an endless time, but it could only have been a few minutes.
Gasping, only half-alive, like survivors of a wreck who reach the shore only after having been overwhelmed with terrible seas, we leaned against our cowed ponies (they were originally cow ponies) with our heads down.
I hardly recognized Jim, his face was blackened with smoke and his eyes reddened, his eyebrows and eyelashes scorched. There was nothing familiar about him, but the white grin of his teeth.
"You look like a hunk of smoked beef," he remarked. "It's time we were out of this."
The center of the fire had swept in advance down the valley, but the left wing was still fighting along the upper slopes on the opposite side of the valley.
"One drink for me at any rate before we start," I cried.
My thirst was something awful and I raised the canteen to my lips, but I threw it down with a yell. The very metal seemed hot.
"That's a cursed shame, Jo," said Jim in sympathy. "You wait, we will get water before we camp again. We are going to get out of this hades of a place." This was not profanity but description.
"All ready now, Jo?"
I nodded, for I could not speak, and we started to attempt to escape in the wake of the fire. We made our way slowly down the rock trail and then out on the slope of the hill.
A scene of desolation lay around and above us. Nor was it all over. There were many blazing trees that had not fallen and there was plenty of light to guide us on our fiery journey.
The undergrowth was burnt off and nothing left but black bushes and grey smouldering ashes everywhere.
"Which way?" I asked Jim, when we reached the foot of the hill.
"Up the mountains, of course," was his command.
"Where are the Apaches?" I questioned.
"Ask of the winds that far around with fragments strew the sea. They have skedaddled," he continued, lapsing into prose.
"I wonder if the captain and Tom have been caught in this fire," I cried.
A fear struck to my heart. It did not seem possible that anyone could escape the devouring march of the fire. Not many would be likely to find the refuge we had.
"You may be sure of one thing," replied Jim, "and that is this, the captain will take good care of himself and Tom too."
There was ground for Jim's confidence. For the captain was a man of unlimited resource, backed by a remarkable experience and he was, no doubt, far more worried about us than we were about them.
For us it was a trying and difficult journey over this burnt section. It was hard on the horses, and must have burnt their feet cruelly. We picked our way as carefully as we could, following the gravelly stretches where it was possible so to do.
Then again, where we could do so, we would take the line of the creek that ran down the middle of the valley. There was no water in it, for it had been either choked or dried up. After all that rain of the previous day this seemed remarkable.
"How much ground do you suppose this fire has swept, Jim?" I asked.
"It's hard telling," he replied, "but it would not surprise me if we would have to travel several days before we get out of the burnt district."
We had now arrived at the top of the mountain, from which the valley sloped down.
"Which way now, Jim?" I asked, stopping a moment for a better view.
For answer he swung his horse north, along the ridge. It was comparatively clear here and quite gravelly and a cool breeze, unstained with smoke, swept over the divide, with refreshing life in it for us. It was the next thing to having a drink.
"How are your lips, Jo?" asked Jim.
"Burnt," I replied.
"It's a whole lot better than having the Apaches catch you," he reasoned. "Then you would have been burnt all over."
"It's some consolation," I said.
"I don't believe we could have escaped," said Jim, "if the fire had not helped us. The only thing we could have done was to have tried to make our escape at night."
"We would have fought our way through, perhaps," I suggested.
"Not more than one chance out of a hundred," replied Jim, "and I'm glad, for one, we didn't have to take it."
"We get a pretty good view of the conflagration from here," I commented.
This was true, for in both directions we could see the solitary blazing trees on the mountain slopes like the fires of a great army, and in the canyon below us on the other side the brush was still blazing.
"Shall we camp here?" I asked, "this seems to be as good a place as any."
Jim shook his head.
"No, we will work our way north till we can get a view of our old camp. Perhaps we will find some trace of Tom and the captain."
We rode on steadily, following along the top of the ridge. The whole vast, shadowy country blackened and desolate, lighted by the occasional fires, seemed to me quite unrecognizable.
"I don't believe we can tell the canyon when we arrive at it," I suggested, "they all look alike to me."
"I guess I will know it when we come to it," Jim answered.
"You are a better mountaineer than I am if you can," I said.
"I am," replied Jim coolly.
I reckon there was no doubt of it, for Jim had developed a remarkable sense for locality, and had a natural instinct for direction, while I was easily lost, but I could tell the east when the sun rose and the west where it set. Beyond that I was not much of an authority.
"Here we are," exclaimed Jim.
We had arrived at the head of a narrow canyon that looked to me much like the one we had just gone by.
"How can you tell?" I asked.
"Never mind," replied Jim, "you will see that I am right."
Jim was not above adding to his reputation by a certain mystery, which gave the impression that he controlled certain occult forces which he did not choose to explain to the ignorant and the uninitiated.
"You guessed right," I said after we had ridden down a ways above the wall of the canyon. "You certainly have pretty good luck."
"We are above the camp now," said Jim, "let's see if we can wake them up?"
He put his hands to his lips and gave a yell loud enough to wake the dead. No response.
"I'm going down to make sure," he said.
So he swung himself off Piute, and followed by Santa the two soon disappeared, leaving me alone, but I was used to that. So I dismounted to give Coyote a rest. I hope Jim will be able to find water down there, I said to myself.
I did not have very long to wait, when I saw Jim, toiling up from below.
"What luck?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"They haven't been around since the fire and the pack horses are gone."
My heart sank and a sensation of absolute loneliness came over me. Here we were, the two of us, with no one to aid us. Only a short supply of ammunition. It certainly was a desperate situation.
"Cheer up," said Jim. "Here is something to wet your whistle."
He handed over the canteen. I seized it eagerly. I would not have exchanged its old battered tin hulk for diamonds or gold.
I raised it eagerly to my lips and let a stream gurgle down my throat. Talk about whiskey and its enthusiastic effects, I never tasted anything more intoxicating than that water. It made me feel absolutely dizzy.
"What next?" I asked.
"There is nothing to do but to look for them."
"Yes," I said, "I suppose we had better work down to the plains."
"Not much," replied Jim. "You take my word for it that they are back in the range. Ten chances to one if we went down we would fall into the hands of the Apaches."
"Back to the woods for me then," I said very promptly.
"Let's walk a ways and rest the ponies," suggested Jim.
"All right," I said. "I have been cooped up so long in that fort that I won't mind having a chance to stretch my legs."
So we walked up the grade towards the summit we had left a little while before, the ponies following us like obedient dogs, while Santa took the lead. In an hour we had reached the top of the long ridge or rather mountain, which dominated the various canyons like little pigs near the mother sow.
The fires were still burning everywhere and we could see the skirmish line of the main fire eating its way in irregular outline along the darkened plain.
"It's up to you, Jim," I said, "which way now? You are the guide for this party."
"Over the hills and far away," he cried. "All aboard for the grand canyon."
And he swung into the saddle. There was something in the cheek of him that called out my admiration, even if I was his brother. To think of the object of our trip when it seemed the most impossible thing in the world to obtain. But it was like Jim.
"You see the outline of that mountain over there?" he asked, pointing to the West. "The one above the fire line?"
"Yes," I replied.
"That's the one I'm going to make for. When we get to the summit I am going to build a big signal fire that can be seen all over this country. Then we shall see 'what we shall see.'"
"Yes," I replied, "we 'shall see' the whole tribe of Apaches."
"Don't you worry," replied Jim. "If we once get our party together we will stand them off."
We now left the summit of the long ridge and rode down a long spur that tended down into a deep cross valley.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Three o'clock," he replied, "we will soon hear the roosters crowing."
In an hour's time we had reached the depth of the valley. It must have been beautiful a few hours before, but now it was as black as the Valley of The Shadow.
"Look here, Jim, there's quite a stream," I cried.
"Good luck," yelled Jim. "Now our horses can have a drink."
They certainly made the most of it. The water throbbed down their long throats in regular piston strokes. No matter if the water was discolored and tasted of ashes and charcoal, Santa, too, made the most of it.
After the ponies had satisfied their thirst we crossed to the opposite side and Jim scanned the barren bulk of the mountain that rose above us. He was looking for the best line of ascent.
"Jo, did you hear that?" exclaimed Jim in great excitement.
"It sounded like two rifle shots close together," I answered. "Now, we are in for it. We never will escape the Apaches this time."
"Ho, ho," laughed Jim. "Apaches! That was the captain's rifle as sure as I stand here. That was no old carbine."
We waited, listening intently. Then we fired two shots apiece simultaneously. Then in a minute came the answering signal. Two rifles this time.
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! Whoop la," we yelled. It seemed to me the most joyful moment of my life. The captain and Tom found again after the terrible perils we had been through.
We urged our ponies in the direction of the shots and Santa sprang away in the lead. He would be the first to welcome the captain and Tom. In five minutes we saw the dark outlines of two mounted men and two horses following.
We met on the spur of the mountain with only the livid light of a burning pine nearby to enable us to distinguish each other. The captain swung from his horse and gripped Jim by the hand, then he took my hand likewise. "Well met," he exclaimed.
For a moment there was silence, then Jim spoke up.
"That was a deuce of a big fire you started, captain," he said. "You must have been pretty cold."
The captain smiled grimly.
"I could tell that was you from that remark, but your appearance is deceiving. You look considerably like a nigger."
"We thought that we wouldn't see you fellows again," said Tom. "You must have been through it, the way you look."
"Come, boys," said the captain, "the first thing for us to do is to get above the fire line and camp. We thought we had lost Santa. How did you get him?"
"He got us," I answered.
"It's all right now. He went off on a trail of his own," commented the captain. "I'm glad that he located you."
We now proceeded up the mountain on the back trail, the captain in the lead. After a while daylight came and it showed a scene of desolation below us. The blackened trees, some standing, thousands fallen, the pallid smoke rising from mountain slopes and curling out of deep canyons.
Above us, however, was a brighter prospect, for below the snow fields were the unscarred pines and the ravines where were the clear streams.
After an hour's hard climb we were among the trees with bushes, and here and there bunches of grasses and of flowers. It seemed like paradise to our fire scorched eyes. We made our camp in a wide ravine, near a pleasant stream.
"Well, this is jolly," said Jim. "I am glad to have a chance to wash my features and comb my hair."
We took the saddles off our tired horses and it was a pleasure to see how they took it. The fire was made and once more we were united around the old campfire.
Depend upon it, we had a long talk and the captain told of his efforts to help us. He and Tom had spent several hours in making their preparations. Below the ridge at a distance of three hundred yards or more apart they had placed inflammable pitch pine in dry brush and timber.
Tom had been sent with the pack horses up beyond the danger zone and then with a pitch pine torch the captain started the fire at the eastern end, then full gallop to the west and thus up the line. The wind was blowing a hurricane and scattered fire brands far and wide.
It is easy to unleash such a tempest of fire, but once started it is beyond all human control.
We told our story and then fixing up a bed of boughs or rather small branches, I rolled up in my blankets and was soon sound asleep. There was comfort in it after the hardships of the past two nights.
We did not move camp until the next day. By that time we were thoroughly rested and ready for whatever might be ahead of us, whether Indians or forest fires.
Our horses also were feeling good, which they showed by acting badly.
The captain scouted out and returning reported no signs of Indians. They had been driven away.
"Well, boys," he said, as we started the next day, "I shall have to leave you as soon as I get you out of these mountains."
"We hate to think of it," said Jim. "Better go with us as far as the river anyway."
But the captain shook his head.
"No, really Jim, I appreciate you boys' friendship and I like to be with you, but I am getting too old for this exciting life and I must get back to my plateau and my books."
"I have given the captain one of my books to read," said Tom.
"Gee," laughed Jim, "I bet the captain will be thrilled when he reads about the dukes and dukesses and all those high-fliers."
"That will do, Jim," said the captain. "I value the book as a gift from Tom."
So nothing more was said on that line. We were now fairly launched for the remainder of our voyage through the mountains and we rode forward in good spirits.
We traveled on for a week through the mountains with only the ordinary incidents of hard riding and quiet camps. We met with no extraordinary adventures, nor did we meet any wandering bands of Indians.
Although we saw the distant smoke of some large camps we did not seek any close acquaintance with the Apaches.
"You will find many of the tribes in the southwest rather friendly," said the captain, "not like the Apaches, or Cheyennes. Of course you always have to be on your guard. But if you do not arouse their suspicions or deal with them unfairly, there is no danger of that, I know, and you will find them safe."
"What are the names of these Indian tribes in the southwest?" inquired Jim.
"Well, there are the Navajos, a fine tribe in many ways, with rather good features, not like the fierce Apaches, much more human. They, too, are skilled in making blankets, stained natural colors of gray and brown and red and woven from sheep's wool. They roam above the San Juan.
"On the north below the San Juan are the tribes of Paiutes, while on the south are the Suppais and Wallapais; in Arizona and lower down come the Mojaves, Cocopas and Yumas, more worthless and degraded than the northern tribes.
"The most interesting of all the tribes are the Pueblos who have villages built in the cliffs or on the great Mesas. These people have a civilization of their own."
"It certainly will be interesting to see this country," I said.
"To me it is the most marvelous region on this continent," resumed the captain, "and has a fascination of its own. As you will soon find for yourselves."
Late one afternoon, we had been riding through a deep canyon and we came suddenly out upon the strange country with its sunlit vastness.
"Well!" said Jim, "it beats me!"
Upon the plain below us were several great mesas, with high perpendicular walls, some of grey stone and others of vermilion sandstone, and in the west were pinnacles and towers in varied hues.
Far away to the southwest were various chains of mountains, rising above an elevated but broken region. The mountains were sharp and clear cut. Over all was an atmosphere of wonderful clarity.
"The great Colorado River flows zigzag through that region," said the captain, indicating the distant mountains.
We gazed at it feeling the spell of its fascinating mystery creep over us. There was so much to take in that we sat on our ponies gazing out over this weird land for a long time. Later, we watched the faint crimson of evening die away and the azure that precedes the darkness, robe the distant horizon line of mountains.
This was our last camp in these mountains and also the last night that the captain was to camp with us. We were talking it over after supper as we sat around the fire.
"I don't consider this as good-bye," said the captain, "for I expect to see you at my cabin on the plateau after you return from Mexico."
"If it is possible, you may count on us," asserted Jim.
"You will have much of interest to tell me, I know that. I shall like to hear of the old trails that I have travelled years ago."
"We shall be just one trail ahead of you and that is down the Colorado River," said Jim.
"You're welcome to it," replied the captain, "from what I have heard of its style of action. As a preliminary I should like to begin with the rapids below Niagara."
"One thing is in our favor, we are all good swimmers," suggested Tom.
"Yes, that makes me feel some easier," continued the captain. "You must be careful of those maps I made for you, Jim, because you will need them from now on, until you reach the river. After that there is just one direction and you can't miss it."
"That's down the river, with the current," said Tom.
"That's it," assented the captain.
"If you see Juarez, send him along," suggested Jim. "We want him."
"I reckon he would enjoy it much more than pitching hay on the Kansas farm," said the captain. "It's time to turn in now, for you will want to get an early start to-morrow."
So we rolled into our blankets for a dreamless sleep on the edge of the Land of Enchantment that lay stretched out below us under the brilliant stars.
We were astir early the next morning and before the sun was up we were all ready to start out on the second division of our journey. Our ponies were saddled and the pack horses ready. The only thing that saddened us, was the fact that we had to part with our friend and comrade, the captain.
But in the light of a new day and refreshed by a good night's rest it did not seem such a gloomy prospect as on the evening before. We had found that in the hazardous life we had lived so long that when we turned in at night that it was the best way to forget, banish from our minds all worry about the next day. No matter what desperate matters faced us on the morrow.
We discovered that things never seemed so bad on the next day when we were on our feet to meet them as when we lay on our backs thinking them over.
We were now ready to say good-bye and no ado was made about it either by the captain or ourselves. What was the use? We all instinctively disliked any display of emotion.
"How long will it take you, captain?" asked Jim, "to get back to the plateau?"
"I shall make quick time and use the cutoffs," answered the captain. "It won't be much over a week before I am sitting in the armchair, with my feet on the table reading a book, or looking down the canyon from my open door."
"And we will be gliding down the placid Colorado about that time," laughed Jim, "with Tom and Jo serenading the Indian maidens on the banks as we go drifting by."
"It's a beautiful picture," the captain smiled gravely, "but in reality I see you bailing out your boat and dodging rocks and Indian missiles."
"That's about it," I assented. "By the way, you won't forget to mail our letters home, at the settlement, captain."
"Not I," replied the captain. "It will be good news for them to hear that you have arrived so far in safety."
"We never make much of our little adventures," remarked Jim, "when we write home. We want to keep them feeling cheerful."
"That's right," returned the captain. "Now it is time for you to start, the sun will soon be up. Good-bye and the best of luck to you."
He shook hands with each of us and there was the strength of friendship in his grip.
"Good bye," we called.
And the captain swung his horse around and headed up the canyon.
"Don't be surprised if we drop in on you in a year or two," cried Jim, after him.
"The sooner the better," shouted the captain, and with a salute, which we returned, he disappeared in the depths of the canyon headed north.
We rode south down the slope and reaching the plain turned our horses' heads directly west.
"It seems fine to be on level stretch," remarked Tom, "after going up and down hills, over mountains and through canyons."
It did give us a curious sense of freedom and exhilaration, very much as when you are out of sight of land on the ocean and see the blue surges rolling freely to the horizon.
"Let's have a race," I proposed. "Here is a good stretch."
"Hold on," cried Jim, "we aren't kids any longer. We have got to settle down and cut out our foolishness. There is no use in tiring our ponies out at the start, they will need all the go that is in them before we reach the river."
Jim was right as I recognized in an instant, though my first impulse was one of anger at being called down, but I thought better of it.
"All right, old hoss," I replied, "the jog trot for me. How far do you expect to go to-day?"
"Well, you see the ponies are fine and fit. I calculate to make between sixty and seventy miles."
"Whew!" I whistled, "you'll wear them out."
"Don't you believe it," replied Jim, "that's nothing awful. Why, don't you know that those buck Indians will cover seventy-five miles in a day and over mountains too? We'd do forty ourselves and not feel it."
"I reckon you are right," came from Tom, "this is certainly fine traveling. We ought to make time."
It was good going. The plain was covered with short, crisp grass. The sun was just coming up and the blue depths of dawn were broken by the shining arrows of the sun. The shadows were stript slowly from the great mesas and the weird buttes and strange desert sculptures stood out in absolute distinctness.
I tell you what, it was fine to be young and fit and free in such a country as lay around us. Hardships and sufferings were ahead of us, we knew that, and many dangers; we had experienced them in the past.
I wish you could have a picture of us as we jogged along, sitting securely, easily on our ponies, our rifles hung on our back, slouch hats flapping about our ears and hiding the sunburned radiance of our countenances as grey clouds do the sun.
Moccasins on our feet; our worn but serviceable clothes that did not altogether conceal our muscular figures. We were hard and fit and we ought to have been. Our hands were black as any Indians and what they gripped they could hold onto. In the rear of the procession trotted the two pack animals.
We may have seemed too young to undertake the responsibilities we had. But Jim was almost seventeen, the age that the famous scout, Kit Carson, started on his career in the West. Tom and I, the twins, were two years younger. Jim was the kingpin and we were auxiliaries.
"I tell you one thing," said Jim, "I'm mighty glad to get out of the country of the Apaches. Our one experience with those beggars will last me the rest of my natural life."
"We might run into some roving bands," I said. "I don't believe that they have any regular boundaries to their country."
"They don't get beyond their own section, unless they are at war with some other tribes. They ought to be satisfied with all those mountains and plains back of us to hunt over."
"Say boys, what is that ahead of us on that mesa?" asked Tom. "It looks like some houses to me."
"Houses!" I exclaimed, skeptically, "what would anybody do with houses up on a place like that and who would live in them?"
"It's reasonable enough," said Jim, "that the Indians should build on a high place like that. It's a natural fort and they would be safe from the attacks of their enemies. In a flat country like this where there are no woods or other defense those mesas are just the thing."
"I suppose that we had better keep to the north," I said, "because we don't want to mix it with any Indians. I don't care for their society, no matter how kind and gentle they are and perhaps it isn't their day at home."
"We can't always be dodging around," replied Jim, "for we will never reach the Colorado River. It's right on our line of march and we might just as well take in all the sights."
"Perhaps it is just a mirage," I suggested hopefully, "like that beautiful lake we saw on the plains in Kansas, with the trees around it. That was nothing but a heated haze and our thirsty imaginations."
"That's no mirage, it's the real thing," declared Tom. "You'll see in a half hour."
"A half hour," laughed Jim, scornfully, "you've been in the West all this time and can't tell distance better than that. It will take us a good three hours to reach it."
Jim hit it about right, for it took us three hours and a half before we came within striking distance of the mesa.
"It looks like quite a town up there," said Jim, "but nobody seems to be at home."
I took off my sombrero and began to brush down my shock of light hair. "I must slick up," I announced, "if we are going into society. Lend me your mirror, Tommy."
"I'll lend you a kick," he offered, as he rode alongside, and shot his moccasined foot out, but missed me and hit Coyote in the flanks, making him jump.
"You do that again to my horse and I'll bump your nose for you," I cried, hotly.
I would not have minded it if he had landed on me. Tom knew that I meant business and refrained from further exercises along that line.
"Just look at the dust on your clothes, Thomas, I'm ashamed of you," I continued, after a moment, "and you have no more polish on your moccasins than you have on your manners."
"Stop your kidding, Jo," commanded Jim, "you and Tom can do your scrapping in camp."
"Beware of the Boss, he bites," I said, warningly.
Jim grinned, his only response.
"Look out, Tom, he's showing his teeth."
But we forgot our little controversy as we drew near to the great mesa. It was as impregnable as a powerful battleship of these later days. There was nothing to detract from its impressiveness as it rose in clear cut symmetry and sheer walls from the level plain. We gazed up at it in admiration.
"How high are those walls, do you suppose, Jim?" I asked.
"All of five hundred feet," he answered, "but I don't see how we are going to get up."
"Get up!" I exclaimed, "what for, we haven't got any relatives up there that we want to meet."
"Why Jo," expostulated Jim, "don't you want to meet and converse with our red brothers and have a great powwow. You know they are the original Americans?"
"All Americans are original," I retorted. "I thought you were in a hurry to see the river."
"I am," replied Jim, "perhaps we can see it if we climb up there. Then I want to see this village; you can't make out much from here. Looks something like swallow nests built in the rafters of the old barn."
"How do you suppose the Indians get up there?" I asked, "ladders?"
"Hardly," replied Jim. "Let's look around and find out. You and Tom go around the north end and I'll ride the other way."
"All right," we responded.
So we separated after we had arrived at the middle of the east wall. We rode slowly along, but found no break in the solid grey masonry of the wall. Before rounding the northern end we waved our hats to Jim in a given signal indicating that we had found nothing so far.
The mesa must have been three quarters of a mile in length and the ends about a quarter of a mile. As we came to the west side we saw Jim riding slowly along; as yet he had found nothing. Then I saw him wave his sombrero.
"He's found it," I cried, and we started our horses at full gallop, looking like little pygmies beside the massiveness of the great mesa that loomed above us.
"Here's the main traveled road," he cried, as we galloped up.
"Can we make it?" cried Tom.
"Gee! she's narrow," I commented.
It extended a mere pencil line zigzaging up the face of the rock.
"Come on," cried Jim.
I knew expostulation was useless, a mere waste of breath, so I followed behind Jim, as he started up. It was barely wide enough for our horses and though we had taken a few narrower trails in the mountains, we had never followed one up a precipitous cliff before and I vowed we never would again if we ever got down safely.
Fortunately our horses were as sure footed as goats, but I shall not easily forget the sense of dizziness I felt as I looked down. One slip of Coyote and I would fall like Lucifer, never to rise again.
In some places there was nothing but the narrow two-foot width of rock, with nothing to stop a slide but the earth way down below, but in most places the path was cut into a little gully deepened by the corrosion of the rains.
I think that Jim by the time we had got up several hundred feet repented himself, of his foolhardy attempt. But there was nothing to do but go on, it was impossible for us to back down, but if Jim felt worried he did not show it by word or action to us.
There was no wind stirring and the early afternoon sun beat against the blank wall with blinding effect. It was surprisingly hot, intense and dry.
Every once in awhile we had to stop to spell our horses and they stood with heads held level, and one bent hindfoot, panting with the steep climb.
"If the Indians up there don't want us they can just toss us down," I said. "It looks suspicious to me. Something like an ambush."
"I don't see the bush," replied Jim, "I guess they are taking their siesta. Fine view, isn't it?"
I suppose it was, but it did not interest me just then, as I kept my eyes riveted on Coyote's ears, not caring to look out or down. If you want to get an idea of how I felt, step out on the jamb of a window of a twenty story building and look down at the street, where the people appear like crawling ants and the street cars like big cockroaches.
We were now nearing the top when Jim stopped his horse and the whole line halted. He gave a low whistle of surprise.
"What's the matter?" I asked, anxiously.
"Washout on the line," he said.
"We're in for it now," I said. "Is it dry?"
Jim dismounted gingerly from his horse and went forward a few steps. Then I saw a broken place in the trail with a sheer fall. We were check-mated.
It was impracticable for us to go back with the horses, though we could easily go back on foot. It was also impossible to go forward.
Then I saw Jim step back a ways, and with a short run, he made the leap across. It was only five feet, but in such cramped quarters it was very difficult. My heart stopped as Jim jumped. His foot slipped as he landed and he saved himself from being killed, by grabbing the outer edge of the trail, a thin knife of rock, then he scrambled up, his moccasined feet aiding him to a secure foothold.
"Never say die!" he yelled to me. "I'm going to investigate."
Then he disappeared on top of the mesa. In a few minutes he came back dragging two round poles with him. "Lend a hand, Jo," he urged.
I got off very carefully, not looking down and edged my way past Coyote and Piute, maintaining a firm grip on them as I went along. My back felt cold and creepy with nothing but the dizzy air back of me.
But I got by safely and helped Jim lay his bridge. He made several trips and as the poles were fifteen feet long we made quite a secure structure.
At first Piute absolutely balked. He would not lead at all. Then Jim got in the saddle and went for him with the spurs. The broncho strain showed up in him and he went across that bridge on the fly and went full gallop up the remaining bit of trail.
I led Coyote, who made no trouble as Piute had broken the ice and the rest of the procession followed.
In a minute I was on the deck of the broad mesa and at the threshold of the little town. Jim was waiting for me.
"Welcome to our little city, stranger," he said, "all the Indians are asleep, you must be careful not to disturb them."
"It's deserted," I said. "I guess the Apaches cleared them out."
We left our horses and proceeded to investigate this curiously silent village, isolated on the great mesa.
The houses were in a good state of preservation and would stay that way for years in this dry climate. They were made of adobe bricks with a mud cement over them, flat roofs, and with a second tier of smaller buildings on them. Ladders were used in reaching the roof and we found some that were unbroken lying on the ground. The doors were made of the regulation size and square windows cut through.