USA > Arizona > History of Arizona, Vol. V > Part 8
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"As they moved out, General Gregg joined them and directed their movement.
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"I gave the next order to the little escort I had brought from New Mexico: 'Sergeant Miller, station five men on this side of the canyon to cover that scaling party with their fire. Let them take shelter behind the rocks.' This was done, and the devoted little band be- gan slowly to ascend what seemed an almost vertical wall of sandstone.
"Until now, although the yells had rung all around us, the firing was confined to the west side of the canyon, but at this moment a very close shot was fired from the other side, and our plans could not be carried out unless this was stopped. Another scaling party of six men was accordingly detailed, of which I took com- mand, and began ascending the eastern cliff, covered by the fire of a second small party in the canyon. This disposed of all our fighting force, the remainder being required to take care of the animals. How we got up, God knows; I only remember hearing a volley from below, shots from above, Indian yells on all sides, the grat- ing roar of tumbling boulders as they fell, and the confused echoing of calls and shouts from the canyon. Exhausted, out of breath, and wet with perspiration, boots nearly torn off, and hands cut and bleeding, I sat down on the sum- mit and looked around. Across the narrow chasm I saw the other scaling party. Every- thing was as quiet as death, the Indians had dis- appeared-melting away as suddenly and mys- teriously as they had at first appeared. They had gone to their hidden lairs, cowed by our determined approach.
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"It had been hurriedly arranged before we ascended, that the scaling parties should move on down stream at the brink of the canyon, cov- ering the pack train and animals which would march along the bed. Accordingly we moved on towards the Rio Verde; but, in consequence of side canyons, were compelled to keep back at least half a mile nearer to the foot of the mountain than the course of the canyon.
"Six miles further, while skirting a ridge which projected from the mountain, the Indians from the top began yelling again like demons, and firing at us, but the range was too long to do any harm. They were too cowardly to attack even our small party, and now that we were no longer engulfed in a canyon, we laughed at their whoops. They followed us, however, hoping to catch us in a ravine, but we always sent three men across first to cover the rest and be covered by them in turn.
"Just as the sun was setting we recognized from a high point the mouth of the Sycamore and the valley of the Rio Verde. We had not been able, from the roughness of the country, to approach the side of the canyon in which we supposed the rest of the party were moving, and could not, therefore, ascertain their where- abouts. But at last, toward dark, we descended a second time, by a deep side gorge, into the canyon, dropping down fully 2,000 feet in the space of half an hour. It was just light enough when we reached the bed of the main canyon to discover that our party had not passed down it, and although fearful lest the Apaches should
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notice our descent and again pepper us in the narrow ravine, we turned up it to meet them.
"That night's march up the canyon, over the broken rocks and through the tangled thickets, was worse, if anything, than the attack. Every pebble in the darkness was magnified to a boulder, and every boulder seemed as large as a house; fording the rapid stream twenty times, we shivered with cold and wet when we halted for a brief rest; expecting every moment to meet our party encamped, we yet wondered how they would dare to stop in such a place. Finally, near midnight, we halted under some sheltering rocks, and concluded to take some sleep; but the guides protested against having a fire, saying the Indians would detect and shoot into it. To sleep without one, however, was impossible. At last I concluded that it was better to die from an Indian arrow than to freeze to death in the darkness, and ordered a small one to be lighted, beside which we sat and slept and shivered until a little before daylight, when we took another smoke for breakfast and pushed out into the darkness to continue our march up the stream.
"During the night a great rock had either become dislodged or had been rolled down by Indians, but it fell into the canyon with a report like thunder. I started up and found I had not dreamt it. I would give something to have a faithful picture of that little party, with the expression of each as they stood or leaned, star- ing out into the pitch dark canyon, and wonder- ing what would come next.
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"By daybreak we had got well on our way; when we heard shots in the rear, which we pre- sumed to be Indians firing into our abandoned camp. We commended ourselves for early ris- ing and pushed on, wondering what could have become of General Gregg's party. Finally, the guides insisted on getting out of the canyon and striking towards Prescott, but I ordered them to keep ahead, feeling confident that we should soon meet the party or its trail.
"At last all hope seemed to be gone, and I agreed to climb out up the western cliff. It was as much as we could do to reach the top, and imagine our feelings on arriving there to find that we were merely on a vertical ledge of rock, and that immediately on the other side was the same canyon we had come along an hour before. We scrambled along the narrow ledge, however, faint from hunger and fatigue, having come nearly twenty miles on foot, up and down can- yons and steep ravines, climbing through moun- tain passes and stumbling over the rocky bed of the streams-equivalent to at least sixty miles, as we thought, on a level road. We had had nothing to eat for over twenty-four hours, and very little sleep; the night was bitterly cold, our overcoats were left behind when we scaled the cliff during the Indian attack, and we had nothing to comfort us but a 'Tucson blanket' each, which scant covering can scarcely be inter- preted in genteel society.
"Such was our condition when one of the party cried out, 'What is that smoke?' I got out my fieldglass, and saw two fires, and some
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animals grazing contentedly on a distant hill. 'That is camp, boys! Orderly, fire two shots in quick succession!' The shots were fired. Anx- iously we listened for the acknowledgment. It came soon-the two welcome answering shots, and we strode on with renewed hearts.
"Now, if we had not seen camp, I could have walked as many miles as we had already gone without giving up, but when I came within two miles of camp, and felt certain of succor, and could talk with General Gregg across a deep canyon, only half a mile distant, my legs, some- how, or other, refused to carry me further, and I came to the conclusion that infantry service was disagreeable on an empty stomach. So I made a fire and laid down to sleep, and sent for rations, which my faithful servant, George, brought out to me in the rain, with a flask of whisky from General Gregg, and strict injune- tions to be sure to drink it all-a command I promptly obeyed. I hope the Temperance Society will forgive me, as I could have drunk a demijohn under the circumstances without being affected by it.
"It was by no means a short walk even from where we were to General Gregg's camp, as we had to head the deep side canyon, and to cross several others near their sources. It was rain- ing, and the ground and rocks were slippery; but at last we arrived and received the gratula- tions of the party, who had heard the Indian shots and shouts, and feared we had met too many of the 'noble reds.'
"General Gregg had found a way out of the Sycamore Canyon along a horrible trail, by un-
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loading his pack mules and making several trips of it. He had signaled to us, but had no means of communication, and supposed we had struck for Camp Lincoln, a military post in the valley of the Verde fifty miles to the south.
"My noble gray horse, Signor, is gone. He had helped to carry me faithfully from Santa Fe through New Mexico, and thus far into Ari- zona, but he has fallen a martyr to the topog- raphy of the sources of the Rio Verde. While George was leading him up a precipitous path he lost his footing in jumping over a rock, and tumbled to the bottom of the canyon, 100 feet, killing himself instantly. My other valuable horse, Don, whom I intend to take home if I get him safely to the Pacific, had just scrambled over the same obstruction without stumbling. It was nothing less than a miracle that nobody was hurt. These Indians are poor shots, which, with the scarcity of guns among them, must account for our escape. They are afraid also of our 'heap firing guns' as they call the Spencers.
"A little experience of this sort, occasionally, is not without use. It enables you to determine a number of nice problems which otherwise might never have been solved, to say nothing of the new phases in which it exhibits the char- acter of your comrades; the test of their true heartedness, their pluck, perseverance, and generosity. There are also some important minor questions to which it supplies accurate solutions. For instance, how would a man ever know whether a smooth boulder of lava or a flat sandstone slab would make the best pillow, until
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such occasions had induced him to test the mat- ter practically at frequent intervals during the same night ? And how could he ever ascertain the durability of a pair of Santa Fe boots under active service, until a trial of this kind had placed it forcibly before his observation ? And while he might hitherto have had a theoretical appreciation of the value and excellence of a slice of fat pork with 'hard tack' for dessert, it is doubtful whether he would ever comprehend the essential sweetness and delicacy of these dishes until, after twenty-four hours' fasting, he had watched with a fieldglass across a canyon until they should start out toward him from a camp two miles distant."
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CHAPTER VI.
EXPLORATIONS AND SURVEYS (Continued).
PASSAGE THROUGH GRAND CANYON OF JAMES WHITE, PROSPECTOR-PERSONNEL OF PROS- PECTING PARTY - ATTACKED BY INDIANS - PART OF PARTY KILLED-MAKING OF RAFT BY WHITE AND ONE COMPANION-VOYAGE THROUGH CANYON - WHITE'S COMPANION DROWNED - WHITE CONTINUES ALONE - EXPERIENCE WITH INDIANS - ARRIVAL AT CALLVILLE.
One of the most interesting stories contained in this book (New Tracks in North America), is an account of the passage of James White down the Grand Canyon of the Colorado upon a raft. It was written up by one of the sur- veying party from statements made to him by White, and, as he was the first man who ever descended the Colorado from its source to Call- ville, below the Canyon, it is worthy of reproduc- tion here :
"Twenty years ago the trapper and hunter were the romantic characters of the Far West. They still figure in fiction, and there is a fascina- tion about their daring deeds which, in America, makes Boone a household name, and throws an air of chivalry, seldom to be felt now-a-days, around the exploits of such men as Carson, Crockett, and Williams. Nor is our admiration for these hardy men undeserved; they have trapped on every Western stream, and hunted
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1
Looking into the First Granite Gorge, Grand Canyon, Foot of Bright Angel Trail. Including marble Canyon division, this gorge is nearly 300 miles long. Total depth between 5000 and 6000 feet.
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on every mountainside, despite the opposition of the Indian and the barrier of winter snows. They have been the skirmish line of that great army of occupation which is daily pushing west- ward, and they have taught the savage to respect the white man's courage and to fear the white man's power.
"While the field for the trapper and hunter has been gradually growing less, another class of adventurers has come into existence-the 'prospectors' in search of precious metals. Within the last nineteen years these men have traversed every mountain slope, from the rugged peaks of British Columbia to the rich plateaux of Old Mexico; and have searched the sands of every stream from the Mississippi to the shores of the Pacific, stimulated by the same hope of reward that led the early Spaniards to explore places, still unsettled, in their search for an 'El Dorado.' Could the varied and adven- turous experience of these searchers for gold be written we should have a record of daring and peril that no fiction could approach, and the very sight of gold would suggest to our minds some scene of startling tragedy, some story of hair-breadth escape. Could we but gather and set down in proper form the geographical knowl- edge possessed by these men, we should know as much of the western wilds as we now do of the long settled portions of the American continent.
"It has fallen to the lot of one of these pros- pectors to be the hero of an adventure more thrilling than any heretofore recorded, while, at the same time, he has solved a geographical problem which has long attracted the attention
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of the learned at home and abroad, who could but theorize before his voyage as to the stupen- dous chasms or canyons through which the Colorado cleaves its course.
"James White, our hero, now lives at Call- ville, Arizona Territory, the present head of navigation on the Colorado River. His home is in Kenosha, Wisconsin. He is thirty-two years of age, and in person is a good type of the Saxon; being of medium height and heavy build, with light hair and blue eyes. He is a man of average intelligence, simple and unassuming in his manner and address, and without any of the swagger or bravado peculiar to the majority of frontier men. Like thousands of our own young men, well enough off at home, he grew weary of the slow but certain method of earning his bread by regular employment at a stated salary. He had heard of men leaping into wealth at a single bound in the Western gold- fields, and for years he yearned to go to the land where fortune was so lavish of her favors.
"He readily consented then to be one of a party from his neighborhood who, in the spring of 1867, started for the plains and the goldfields beyond. When they left Fort Dodger, on the Arkansas River, April 13th, 1867, the party con- sisted of four men, of whom Captain Baker, an old miner and ex-officer in the Confederate Army, was the acknowledged leader. The destination of this little party was the San Juan valley west of the Rocky Mountains, about the gold fields of which prospectors spoke in the most extravagant terms, stating that they were only deterred from working the rich placers of
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the San Juan by fear of the Indians. Baker and his companions reached Colorado 'city,' at the foot of Pike's Peak, lat. 38°, in safety. This place was, and is still, the depot for sup- plying the miners who work the diggings scat- tered through South Park, and is the more im- portant for being situated at the entrance of Ute Pass, through which there is a wagon road crossing the Rocky Mountains, and descending to the plateau beyond. The people of Colorado 'city' tried to dissuade Baker from what they considered a rash project, but he was deter- mined to carry out the original plan. These representations, however, affected one of the men so much that he left the party, and the others, Captain Baker, James White, and Henry Strole, completed their outfit for their prospecting tour.
"The journey was undertaken on foot, with two pack mules to carry the provisions, mining tools, and the blankets they considered neces- sary for the expedition. On the 25th of May they left Colorado 'city,' and crossing the Rocky Mountains, through the Ute Pass, they entered South Park, being still on the Atlantic slope of the continent. Ninety miles brought them across the Park to the Upper Arkansas, near the Twin Lakes. They then crossed the Snowy Range, or Sierra Madre, and descended towards the Pacific. Turning southwest, they passed around the head waters of the Rio Grande del Norte, and after a journey of 400 miles, they reached in safety the Animas, the most northern branch of the San Juan river, which flows into the Great Colorado from the east.
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"They were now in the land where their hopes centered, and to reach which they had crossed plains and mountains, and forded rapid streams, leaving the nearest abodes of the white man hundreds of miles to the east. Their pros- pecting for gold began in the bed of the Animas, and though they were partially successful, the result did not by any means reach their expec- tations; so they followed down the stream into the main valley of the San Juan. There was gold there, but not in the quantity they ex- pected ; so they gradually moved west, along the beautiful valley, for 200 miles, when they found that the San Juan entered a deep and gloomy canyon. To avoid this they forded the river to the right bank, and struck across a rough timbered country, directing their course towards the Great Colorado.
"Having traveled through this rough country for a distance estimated at fifty miles, they reached Grand River, being still above the junction of Green river, the united waters of which two streams form the Colorado proper. At the point where they struck the river it was hemmed in by cliffs of perpendicular rock, down which they could gaze at the coveted water, dashing and foaming two thousand feet below. Men and animals were suffering for water, so they pushed up the stream along the rocky un- even canyon wall, hoping to find a place where they could descend to the river. After a day spent in clambering over and around the huge rocks that blocked their way, they came upon a side canyon, which they succeeded in descend-
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ing with their animals, and where they obtained the water of which all stood so much in need.
"On the night of the 23rd of August they en- camped at the bottom of the canyon, where they found plenty of fuel, and grass in abundance for their animals. As they sat around the camp fire they lamented their failure in the San Juan country, and Strole began to regret that they had undertaken the expedition. But Baker, who was a brave, sanguine fellow, spoke of placeres up the river about which he had heard, and promised his companions that all their hopes should be realized, and that they should return to their homes to enjoy the gains and laugh at the trials of their trip. So glow- ingly did he picture the future, that his com- panions even speculated as to how they should spend their princely fortunes when they re- turned to the States. Baker sang songs of home and hope, and the others lent their voices to the chorus till, far into the night, they sank to sleep unguarded, to dream of coming opu- lence, and to rise refreshed for the morrow's journey.
"Early next morning they breakfasted, and began the ascent of the side canyon up the oppo- site bank to that by which they had entered it. Baker was in the advance with his rifle slung at his back, gaily springing up the rocks towards the table lands above. Behind him came White; Strole, with the mules, brought up the rear. Nothing disturbed the stillness of the beautiful summer morning but the tramp- ing of the mules and the short heavy breathing of the climbers. They had ascended but half
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the distance to the top, when stopping for a moment to rest, suddenly the war-whoop of a band of savages rang out, sounding as if every rock had a demon's voice. Simultaneously with the first whoop a shower of arrows and bullets was poured into the little party. With the first fire Baker fell against a rock, but, rallying for a moment, he unslung his carbine and fired at the Indians, who now began to show themselves in large numbers, and then, with the blood flow- ing from his mouth, he fell to the ground. White, firing at the Indians as he advanced and followed by Strole, hurried to the aid of his wounded leader. Baker, with an effort, turned to his comrades and said with his last breath, 'Back boys, back ! save yourselves; I am dying. To the credit of White and Strole be it said, they faced the savages and fought until the last tremor of the powerful frame told them that Baker was dead.
"Then slowly they began to retreat, followed by the exultant Indians, who, stopping to strip and mutilate the dead body in their path, gave the white men a chance to secure their animals, and retrace their steps into the side canyon, beyond the immediate reach of the Indians' arrows. Here they held a hurried consulta- tion. To the east, for 300 miles, stretched an uninhabited country, over which, if they at- tempted to escape in that direction, the Indians, like bloodhounds, would follow their track. North, south, and west, was the Colorado with its tributaries, all flowing through deep chasms across which it would be impossible for men or animals to travel. Their deliberations were
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necessarily short, and resulted in a decision to abandon the animals-first securing their arms, a small stock of provisions, and the ropes or lariats of the mules. Through the descending side canyon they travelled due west for four hours, and emerged at last on a low strip of bottom-land on Grand River, above which, for 2,000 feet on either bank, the cold grey walls rose to block their path, leaving to them but one avenue for escape-the dashing currents of the river.
"They found considerable quantities of drift wood along the banks from which they collected enough to enable them to construct a raft capable of floating themselves, with their arms and provisions. This raft consisted of three sticks of cottonwood, about ten feet in length and eight inches in diameter, lashed firmly to- gether with their lariats. Procuring two stout poles with which to guide the raft, and fasten- ing the bag of provisions to the logs, they waited for midnight to come with the waning moon, so as to drift off unnoticed by the Indians. They did not consider that even the sun looked down into that chasm for but one short hour in the twenty-four, and then left it to the angry waters and blackening shadows; and that the faint moonlight reaching the bottom of the canyon would hardly serve to reveal the horror of their situation. Midnight came, as they thought, by the measurement of the dark, dreary hours; when seizing the poles, they untied the rope that held the raft, and, tossed about by the current, they rushed through the yawning canyon on V-9
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their adventurous voyage to an unknown land- ing. Through the long night they clung to the raft as it dashed against half concealed rocks, or whirled about like a plaything in some eddy, whose white foam was perceptible even in the blackness.
"They prayed for the daylight, which came at last, and with it a smoother current and less rugged banks, though the canyon walls appeared to have increased in height. Early in the morning (August 25th) they found a spot where they could make a landing, and went ashore. After eating a little of their water-soaked provisions, they returned and strengthened their raft by the addition of some light pieces of cedar, which had been lodged in clefts of the rocks by recent floods. White esti- mates the width of the river where they landed at 200 yards, and the current at three miles per hour. After a short stay at this place they again embarked, and during the rest of the day they had no difficulty in avoiding the rocks and whirlpools that met them at every bend of the river.
"In the afternoon, and after having floated over a distance estimated at thirty miles from the point of starting, they reached the mouth of Green river, or rather where the Green and the Grand unite to form the Colorado proper. Here the canyons of both streams form one of but little greater width, but far surpass- ing either in the height and grandeur of its walls. At the junction, the walls were esti- mated at 4,000 feet in height. Detached pin- nacles appeared to rise, one above the other. for
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1,000 feet higher, from amidst huge masses of rock, confusedly piled, like grand monuments to commemorate this 'meeting of the waters.' The fugitives felt the sublimity of the scene, and in contemplating its stupendous and un- earthly grandeur, they forgot for the time their own sorrows.
"The night of the day upon which they en- tered the Great Canyon, and indeed on nearly all the subsequent nights of the voyage, the raft was fastened to a loose rock, or hauled up on some strip of bottom land, where they rested till daylight next morning.
"As they floated down the canyon the grey sandstone walls increased in height; the lower portion was smooth from the action of floods, but the perpendicular wall rock above became more and more rugged, until the far off sky appeared to rest upon a fringe of pinnacles on either side. Here and there a stunted cedar clung to the cliff side 2,000 feet overhead, or a prickly cactus tried to suck sustenance from the bare rock. No living thing in sight beyond the raft, for even the wing of bird which could pass the chasms in the upper world never fanned the dark air in those subterranean depths. Naught to gaze upon but their own pale faces and the cold grey walls that hemmed them in, and mocked at their escape. Here and there the raft shot past side canyons, black and forbidding, like cells set in the walls of a mighty prison.
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