USA > Colorado > Colorado pioneers in picture and story > Part 24
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After one sweet hour of heavenly quiet and calm in that beautiful spot we began our descent.
The driver, who plumed himself upon his skillful manipulation of the ribbons, seemed intoxicated with pleasure and we went down that steep and rugged path. past the everlasting procession of tourists, at an alarm- ing rate. A broken vehicle lay up against the side of the road, awaiting repairs. "Just watch me take the wheel off that," said he, cracking his whip and augment- ing his speed. I felt myself turning pale, and closely embraced the arm of a gentleman who sat beside me.
Off came the wheel, throwing our wagon against a huge stone on the edge of the road; that being thus rudely knocked from its resting place, stopped not to "gather moss" on its way downward.
He laughed, almost shouted over his exploit, and turning deliberately around in his seat, said, "Don't get frightened. I have driven over this road a hundred times
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and have never met with an accident;" but I would have felt vastly more comforted if he had kept his eyes on his horses.
It seemed natural to rush by the "Devil's Gate," but we would have preferred a more lingering look at the "Bridal Veil Falls." Strange the fascination attached to that veil, whether it be of tulle, lace or water ! To my agreeable surprise I reached Georgetown with my head on my shoulders, and, on the whole, delighted with the trip.
In the parlor at the hotel a mining expert told us a very amusing incident. A negro had been importuning him for weeks to look at his mine. He finally brought a specimen and said he had four feet of just such ore as that. Upon looking at it he thought if the negro's story was true, he had something worth having; so he hired a buggy and started off with the dusky miner. When he came to examine the mine he found a little vein about one and a half inches thick.
"What do you mean by fooling me in this way ?" he said to the darky, rather roughly.
The negro turned his head to one side, and in a dazed sort of way said: "Ain't da fo' foot da. boss?" Then he examined it himself; "Well," said he, "if it aint jes like it was when I left it: but de closer I got to Georgetown de bigger it growd. and when I got da. I d'clar fo' de Lawd it was fo' foot."
The expert said the sell was so complete and ridicu- lous he couldn't get angry.
GRAY'S PEAK
The following morning, refreshed and in good spirits, we started for Gray's Peak, the dome of the con- tinent. It is 14,351 feet high. Nature is built on a grand
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GRAY'S & TORRY PEAKS
scale around here : "there is nothing lit- tle" about George- town, I'm sure.
One can ride to the summit of Gray's Peak in a carriage, GEORGETOWN LOOP but we preferred to go on horseback. The morning was breezy and cloudless, the ascent gradual, and as we mounted higher and higher toward the clouds, the green valley with its shady nooks and silvery streams was as charming as glimpses of fairy land.
About half way up we stopped to rest and talk to a returning party, who had been to the summit to see the sun rise. They were so enthusiastic over the marvelous view that we took out our guide book to see if their far stretching yarns were true. It corroborated their asser- tions as follows: "From this point are plainly discerni- ble Pike's Peak, eighty miles away, Mount Lincoln, fifty miles. Mount of the Holy Cross, eighty miles, Long's Peak, eighty miles. the City of Denver, sixty-five miles, and even the summits of the Spanish Peaks, two hundred miles southward, and the highest ranges of the Uintah mountains. three hundred miles westward. The total
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range of the vision is not less than two hundred and fifty to three hundred miles."
After reading this, our desires were greatly increased to take the "tip-top" view. Toiling up, up, up, we at last reached the summit. Surely this must have been the great play-ground of the Titans, when in a game of pitch and toss with mountains. they left them as we find them. heaped in stupendous confusion to commemorate
the occasion. There were mountains. mountains every- where. seemingly without bound or limit. Far away hung the emblem of the Christian faith, the Holy Cross. There was something subduing and awe-inspiring in the sacred symbol that above all and over all stretched its arms in mute appeal to man's reverence for the Creator. One had the sense of standing before the visible throne of God waiting for the words, "depart from me." or. "ve are the chosen of my Father."
I sat down to contemplate and thoroughly enjoy the stupendous scenery, when the party gathered around and listened to
THE LEGEND OF THE MOUNT OF THE HOLY CROSS
Many years ago, when the Franciscan Friars were earnestly engaged in the grand work of converting the inhabitants of Mexico to the worship of the true God, a monk in Spain yielded to the tempter and committed a great sin. Day and night. with contrite heart, he sought in prayer expiation for his sin. It was revealed to him in a vision that when he saw a cross suspended in the air, it would be a token of his forgiveness.
Then he became filled with a feeling of unrest and longed to travel. He joined an expedition to Mexico, and wandered over the country in search of the sacred sym- bol, until his hair was frosted and his limbs were infirm with age.
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Finding no rest for his soul, he joined an exploring party going north. By winding ways they traveled : from mountain summit, where the sunshine lingers to valleys barred with light and shadows: through deep defiles robed in verdure. to mountains girdled with flowers and crowned with snow ; onward they went.
Arriving one day on the summit of a lofty moun- tain, they pitched their tents. It was not the hour to camp, but their further progress was prevented by a dense fog, that with the morning sun rose from the ground and gradually grew thicker and higher until it mingled with the clouds and enveloped the whole earth.
The pious man wandered away from the sound of human voices to pray for the removal of his burden of sin. Kneeling in deep humility he raised his hands and voice to God: when lo! the cloud was lifted; and sus- pended before him. resplendent with the rays of the glorious sun. was the "cross."
Wondering at his long delay, his companions went to search for him. and found him in the attitude of prayer.
The Great Spirit had breathed forgiveness, and illumined with divine light. the face turned toward the "Mount of the Holy Cross."
The mountain is located near the town of Red Cliff. Eagle County. on the Denver & Rio Grande. The dis- tance by rail from Denver is 294 miles. It is formed by great transverse canyons of immense depth filled with eternal snow. The symbol is perfect. From the crest of Fremont Pass and from Tennessee Pass this snow white banner of Christian faith, set high against the brown brow of the mountain, is clearly visible. Holy Cross creek, which flows at the base of the mountain is a picturesque and beautiful stream.
This world-famed peak is one of Colorado's great scenic points and the cross is as perfect today as it was
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in the time of the early Franciscan Friars. Rus- sel A. Chapin and Mr. Schmidt are among the few who have had the temerity to climb to the peak of the Mount of the Holy Cross.
During the recital of the legend the air became suddenly colder, clouds Mt. of the Holy Cross shut out the sunlight. and it was evident that a storm was brewing. With all possible haste we started on the down- ward march. The roads were good, and as it was all down hill, we hoped to out-travel the storm.
Angry nature fumed. fretted and threatened for an hour or so. and then rain came down in torrents. The thunders rolled. the winds lashed us, and all the elements seemed pretty busy for a while; but no matter, we had made the ascent and were happy, a new picture was hung in the gallery of memory. that time could never efface. We had something to think of and talk about. not for a day, but for many days.
The forlorn and bedraggled party which entered the hotel that evening bore no resemblance to the one that left it in the morning. We looked as if we had been attending a Baptist revival and become converts to the "dip theory." One complained of toothache, another of sharp rheumatic pains, still another of neuralgia, but such minor damages count as nothing when we take into consideration the magnificent view.
THE MINING EXPERT
The next morning found us on the train for Denver. well and happy. Here again we met the mining expert.
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As my mission was to gather stories, I endeavored to improve each shining hour, so commenced a lively con- versation with him.
"I was sitting in my office one morning," said he, "reflecting over the old adage, 'all that glitters is not gold,' when I was suddenly awakened from my reverie by the salutation, 'Well, boss, how does you do?' Look- ing up I recognized the intruder as my old colored friend. Jim Boyd. Jim came to the country in an early day, and cast his lot with thousands of other fortune-hunters of the then wild country of Colorado, and being from the South myself, Jim often came in to talk about the old home, the fried chicken, sweet potatoes, and the many good things to us then 'non-come-at-able.'
""'Well, Jim,' said I, 'I'm glad to see you; sit down. What can I do for you ?'
"'Golly, boss, struck it rich; no, I thank you, boss, drudder stand up.' Pulling out of his pocket an old dirty handkerchief, with something heavy in it, he pro- duced from it some specimens of rocks. 'Here it is, boss; right out of de bottom of de shaft. Here's de . wealth for you, sho' !'
" 'You are excited, Jim. Sit right down and tell me all about it.'
""'De fact is, boss, I want to sell you dis mine.'
""'How deep are you, Jim ?'
"'Down forty feet ; dug de hole myse'f.'
""'How much ore ?'
"'Eighteen inches pure stuff, boss.'
" 'How does it run ? Had any assays ?'
" 'Better den dat, boss, had a reg'lar mill run; $170 a ton and plenty of it.'
"'What price do you place on this property, Jim? I don't want to buy, but perhaps I can sell it for you.' "'Now you struck me, boss. You can sell dis mine for $500; all you gets over-dat's vo' money.'
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"'But, Jim, I wouldn't sell such a mine as that for so little; you can work it, if it is as rich as you say, and make from twenty to fifty dollars per day, which would soon make you a Bonanza king. Then you might be governor, or perhaps senator, who knows.'
""'Now, boss, I'se a colored man, a po' man, and all dat, but I'se honest, and I'se never done anything yet to qualify me for dem positions you speak about-sides all dis, I'se never harmed you, and I doesn't think you ought to cast such insinuations at me.'
" 'Well, well, Jim, beg your pardon, but about the mine. Hadn't you better work that mine? I dislike to see an old friend who has struggled in these mountains so long and worked so hard, throw away such a good thing for a few hundred dollars.'
"'At this Jim came forward, and laying his big, black hand on my shoulder, sunk his voice to a whisper and replied : 'De fact am, boss, dar's many a good mine in dis country spoilt by working it. Sell de mine, boss.'
"Since that morning I have frequently had occasion to call to mind Jim's remark, 'dar's many a good mine spoilt by working it.'"
Georgetown is a great place to get a pocket full of rocks; the windows are full of specimens, views, etc.
An expert had a valise full of mountain souvenirs. A specimen is an expert's jewel, treasure, sweetheart, and everything that is delightful. He talked rapturously of the auriferous. cupriferous, galenous, argentiferous and ferriferous, and seemed delighted to find a sympathetic
ear. His metalliferous voice softened into mellifluous undulations as if speaking of his first love, when he showed us a beautiful specimen of smoky quartz. Hold- ing it at a proper angle to catch the sun's rays he said : "Quartz is an essential constituent of granite, and abounds in rocks of all ages." He had beautiful amethysts, car- nelians, jaspers, agates, and so on, and he lingered affec- 14 1
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tionately on the perfections of each and every one. A friend of mine smuggled a wink to me and asked him, "What makes quartz ?"
He contemplated her contemptuously and replied : "Twice as many pints, Miss."
Then, feeling, perhaps, that he was casting pearls before swine, he drew himself away and looked dreamily out of the window.
I took her to task for it, but she said it provoked her to see me looking as wise as an owl, absorbing that man's knowledge, when I didn't know or care anything more about rocks and minerals than I did about Sanscrit.
I reminded her of the trite adage, "it is never too late to learn," and accused her of spoiling my golden opportunity. We didn't have time to quarrel long, for our attention was attracted by the rocky sides of the canyon, where great masses of granite rocks, like Ossa on Pelion piled, seemed to pierce the very heavens, and in striking contrast to the blue sky above was the turbid stream below, beating itself in mad fury against the boulders in its course. Clear creek, so called, from the original transparency of its water, now turgid from the dust and other residuum of many quartz mills, is a self evident misnomer.
Luxuriant evergreens grew straight up out of the rocks. The same evergreens, if taken to Denver, care- fully tended. watered and petted, would be sure to die. Just so with some people, they droop and die, or are dwarfed-which is worse-amid the luxuries of life, and the hard paths develop them into bright and shining lights.
The conductor put a stop to my sermonizing by inviting me to the rear end of the car to see the "Old Man of the Mountains."
When viewed from that distance he looked natural
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enough to flirt with. We cheered him and waved our handkerchiefs as we glided by, but the stony-hearted old fellow did not even smile in return. How long he has been there none know. In ages past the earth, rocked with volcanic fires, in frenzied throes, gave him birth, and there he stands a relic of past grandeur, watching the roll of years.
I have spun so many yarns on the way this seems like a long trip, but it can be done satisfactorily in two days at a trifling expense.
Upon reaching Denver, the natural key to all points of scenic interest, we expressed a great desire to turn right around and go over the same route again, but our plans were mapped out and we had no time to repeat.
PART VIII THE WESTERN SLOPE
CHAPTER XXIII
OVER THE MAIN RANGE
PLATTE CANYON
Touring in the mountains of Colorado is attended with none of the fatigue and weariness that generally accompanies excursions elsewhere. The distance from one place of interest to another is short, the air bracing, the hotels comfortable, and the trains start from all points at such seasonable and reasonable hours one is not afflicted with nervous excitement in a frantic effort to be on time for the cars-or sick headache.
We took the South Park railroad line for a trip over the main range.
Twenty miles from Denver we entered Platte can- yon through an imposing gate-way of rocks, rising fully one thousand feet above the stream on either side, and breaking into all sorts of fantastic shapes at the top.
Our train makes some marvelous turns. Suddenly a projecting angle seems to threaten ruin and destruction. and while this thought is upon one the engine glides gracefully around it into new surprises. On the opposite side from the roadbed an English company has con- structed a flume which conveys water to an irrigating canal, that waters and fertilizes countless acres south of Denver. This ditch is so large, and involves consequences
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so vast, one irresistibly cranes the neck to catch a glimpse of the boats and sails which should ride its waters like those of the rivers we knew in former times.
Platte river, which gives the name to this canyon. is as clear as crystal. Its waters have not yet been soiled by the working of mines and stamp mills in the moun- tain camps beyond. It
rushes over miniature falls, breaking into feath- ery foam as it dashes against rude boulders, and leaps on as if flying from some mighty pursuer. This stream is full of speckled trout, the gym- nast of the cascade, the most beautiful of the finny tribe, the delight of the epicure.
The conductor said, "they had only to throw out a line while the train was rolling along, and haul them in as fast as they could count."
That seemed almost as miraculous as some fish stories told by Matthew and Mark.
Platte Canyon
On looking up, I saw coming toward me, with his hand extended in a pleased-to-see-you manner. Mr. Jake Scherrer, one of Colorado's cattle kings. I told him I was gathering romances of the mountains, and should levy a contribution upon him. He immediately proceeded to tell me of
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"MEETING AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE"
"Many years ago I was engaged in freighting to and from the mountains. While following a grapevine road through a wild and awesome canyon, using vigorously the usual ox-persuader in my intense anxiety to reach a human habitation before night-fall, suddenly clouds gathered and filled the canyon with gloom. They whirled and tossed and swept through the heavens, and presently the mist and wind enveloped my path in a mass of foam, often lulling for a moment to let a ray of sunshine through to delude me with false hope, then returning with a force that made my covered wagon writhe and tremble. One false step would have sent me and my little cargo to certain destruction. I shall never forget that experience.
"Coming at last to a small log-cabin, the outlines barely visible through the fast falling snow, I stopped to 'turn in' for the night, feeling grateful to find shelter from the storm.
"Tall. dense, dark evergreens surrounded it, wrap- ping it about like a pall. I pushed back the blanket which served as a door to the establishment, for doors on hinges and window glass were luxuries not to be had in those days. I looked around, but there was no one in. As the pioneers, like the ancient apostles, had everything in common, I took possession, and proceeded to make myself at home.
"Taking down a carcass of deer that hung on the wall, I cut some fine steaks from it and cooked my sup- per. While eating, I heard approaching footsteps. The blanket was drawn aside. and a large man, with unkempt hair and long gray beard. stepped in and glanced fiercely around.
""'Hello, Cap.,' said I; 'do you live here ?'
" 'I thought I did,' was the curt reply.
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"Not a very hospitable greeting, but the weather out- side trampled upon dignity, and forbid bowing out with. 'I beg your pardon, I did not intend to intrude.' So I said again, in an off-hand way, though I was conscious of a shudder, 'splendid steak this, sit down and have sup- per, Cap.'
"He hung his hat on a peg sullenly, and took his seat.
"His manner was darkly suggestive.
"We ate the meal without another word. The wind was sighing and wailing-shrieking sometimes-and end- ing in fearful hisses. As I sat there with that grum stranger confronting me, I thought of the loved ones at home, of my own sweetheart, joyous and happy in fresh and dewy girlhood. If I should fall a victim to this border ruffian, my death would be her first grief. Men think swiftly when their lives are in danger.
"After supper I pulled my pluck together and said. 'let's have a smoke.'
"Producing an old, deeply blackened and strongly odorous brier-root, the pioneer's meerschaum, and light- ing it with a coal, he opened the conversation by asking : ""'Where are you from, stranger?'
"'From S , a town in Iowa,' I replied.
"'Why,' said he, 'that was my old home, I always made hotel my headquarters there.'
"'You ought to remember me, then, for I was an errand boy in that hotel.'
"'What,' said he seizing my hand with a hearty grip, 'is this little Jake Scherrer? Why, of course I remember little Jake. Pardon my inhospitable treat- ment, but I thought when I found you here that your purpose could only be murder and robbery.'
"I replied that I, too, considered my life in imminent peril from his threatening appearance. We had both
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contemplated each other with suspicion. and were quite pleased at the agreeable termination.
"He laid his hand fondly on my shoulder, stroked my head, as if I were still a boy, and said: "Ah, you
resurrect a thousand memories of better days. Then I had money, friends and hope. But the woman I loved deceived me. Our wedding day was set, and when I arrived to claim my bride, the words had just been pro- nounced which made her the wife of another. Discon- solate and forsaken I left the country and have never given anyone the slightest clue to my whereabouts. I could not endure the humiliation in the presence of old friends, and so for twenty years I have been a wanderer in these mountains, never seeing a familiar face. Yours is the first.'
"We sat up late that night talking of the old times. When bidding me good-bye, he said. 'we shall never meet again. I shall quit this spot and leave no trace of my further wanderings.
"A few months afterward I passed over the same road. An enormous boulder had fallen from the moun- tain top and torn out the logs on one side of the cabin. I searched carefully among the ruins, thinking he might have been crushed beneath them, but he was not there: the hut was deserted and a wreck: strangely typical of the life of its occupant."
The varied beauties of Platte canyon form a con- stant succession of surprises. From beginning to end it is a prodigious art gallery. hung with the works of the Great Master.
After reaching the parks the mountains were beau- tiful and verdure-clad. but not on so grand a scale as at the entrance of the canyon. At Webster we took an observation car and our train was off again. Having seen it circumvent so many mountains which persisted in not getting out of the way. I supposed it was bent on
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some sort of strategy calculated to dodge the next one. But there I was again deluded, for it turned suddenly to the right and seemed to be making a straight, short cut for the summit. From the car windows we could look down the chimneys of the little village left at the foot of the ascent.
Another half-hour of persistent steaming brought us to the top of Kenosha Hill, 10,300 feet above the sea. There was an explosion of opinions. The charmed tourist said "excelsior"-the hurried man of the mines, to whom this hanging on the selvedge edge of the mountains was an old story, gave a disgusted "umph !"
South Park
Swinging dizzily around a sharp curve-what a vision ! Stretching out beneath the summer heaven's delicious blue was a landscape unlike any I had ever seen before. £ A natural park of magnificent proportions. watered by sparkling streams, and dotted with mounds and hills, fringed with dark clumps of pine, spruce and balsam, and protected by mountains that stand like giant warders to this enchanted land. The whole so won- drously wild, yet so serene and peaceful. one could scarcely realize that the adjacent fastnesses were ever used to shelter bands of guerrillas, thieves and robbers.
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FATE OF THE GUERRILLAS
In 1864 there came from Texas a troop of cut- throats, who claimed to be Confederate soldiers, but were nothing of the kind. Their leader, Jim Reynolds, was one of the earliest gold-seekers of Gregory diggings, and knew the country well. He came to plunder the miners, and excited his followers with marvelous tales of the riches to be had. One pleasant day in July, 1864, as the coach that maintained communication between Buckskin Joe and Denver was nearing Mclaughlin's ranch, where Como now stands, these guerillas, mounted, spurred and armed to the teeth, appeared before it, and roughly com- manded the driver to halt and surrender, declaring them- selves to be Confederate soldiers, capturing all such out- fits. The line was owned and conducted by Mr. W. G. McClellan. a small. gentlemanly man, who was seated by the driver, Ab. Williamson. They were ordered down, and their money demanded. Ab. said a stage driver was never before suspected of having any; but this little piece of raillery did not prevent their searching him. They then snapped his whip under his nose, which is the greatest indignity that could be offered a driver, and proceeded to business.
With a pistol aimed at the head of Mr. McClellan, they demanded the express box, the mail bags and his watch. Fearing the weapon might be accidentally dis- charged, he gracefully handed them over without any parleving. It was then about noon. and they were only a half mile from McLaughlin's ranch, which was a stage station. They went there and ordered dinner. A guard was placed over the occupants of the coach, and while the meal was being prepared the guerrillas opened the express trunk. took the treasure, amounting to several thousand dollars in gold dust, ripped up mail sacks, opened the letters, and appropriated what money there
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