morning, after guard-mount, on another exploring expedition. When the
hills, shutting in the valley with the fort, had closed behind us, we
halted for a moment to look down the road by which we had first
approached Fort Bayard. There, before us to the left, lay the San José
Mountain Range, grand and stately, partly covered with cedars, pines,
and firs. Winding along the foot of the range, the eye could follow the
course of the beautiful, silver-clear White Water, bordered by willows,
ash, and poplars. The most fantastic rocks rose abruptly out of the
water, here and there, covered with moss and vines; an aloe plant or
cactus generally adorning the highest point--growing where not a handful
of earth could be seen, from which they might draw life and sustenance.
To the right of us--ah! there was New Mexico, its barren hills, its
monotonous plains, "the trail of the serpent" lying over all; for the
Indians had only lately set fire to the grass, and it had consumed the
scant vegetation.
An hour's ride brought us in sight of the ruins of the San José copper
mines, on the side of the mountain. It was rather steep climbing to
reach it; but the plateau, on which the works lay, must have been a
quarter of a mile across. Placing sentinels, we inspected the old mill.
Everything was rude and primitive, but huge in dimensions; and the
different _jacals_ that surrounded the _adobe_ building corroborated the
guide's statement that some fifty men had been employed here, "and they
had fought bravely and sold their lives dearly," he said, "the day they
were attacked by the Indians, three or four years ago."
"A white man," Cecilio continued, "a rebel, had led this band of
Indians, and, adding his knowledge of the habits of the white man to the
cunning of the savages, but few Americans or Mexicans could escape these
fiends. This wretch never erred in the aim he took--a ball through the
neck always sending his victim to his last account--but here, on this
spot, he had found his match. Some American, whose name the guide had
forgotten, had sent a bullet through his traitor's heart, at last; and
the Indians, never resting until the brave man had been laid in the
dust, then left this region, because, possibly, there was nothing more
to destroy." Clearing away the brush and rubbish at our feet, the guide
held up his hand--"And here, _señora_," he said,--pointing to two sunken
graves marked by pieces of smoothed plank,--"here they are buried side
by side: the rebel who led the Indians, and the white man who killed
him." It was nothing uncommon to meet with nameless graves in this
country; but a thrill passed through my heart, as I looked at these two
mounds, where friend and foe slumbered so peacefully, "side by side."
It was dangerous to tarry long in one spot, the guide reminded us. The
orderly brought Copp and Toby, and we pursued our way through the
laughing, blooming valley. Nuts, grapes, and hops grew wild here; and
peaches, Cecilio said, grew near the Santa Rita mines, but they had been
planted there by the former inhabitants and employés of the mines. The
mines originally belonged to a Spanish lady, to whose ancestors seven
leagues of the country surrounding them had been granted by the Spanish
Government, long before the territory belonged to Uncle Sam. Her
representatives had worked the mines with a force of some two hundred
men, till the Indians had overpowered them, and destroyed the works. The
immense piles of copper-ore, on either side of the road, told us that we
were nearing Santa Rita, at last; and there, just at the point of the
San José Range, lay a large, strongly-built _adobe_ fort. Buildings of
different sizes and kinds lay clustered around this, which appeared to
be furnace and fastness at once. Placing sentinels, we commenced
exploring above ground; under-ground I refused to venture, in my
cowardice. We found works of considerable magnitude; I counted twelve
bellows, in a kind of hall, that must have been sixty feet high, but the
rafters and beams overhead had rotted, and the weight of the mud, with
which all roofs are covered in this country, had borne down the roof,
and half covered an enormous wheel, some forty feet in diameter.
Everything about this wheel that was not wood, was copper; not a vestige
of iron, steel, or stone, was to be seen around here: it was copper,
wood, and _adobe_. But copper was everywhere--copper-ore, so rich that
the veins running through it could be scraped out with a penknife;
copper just smelted; copper beaten into fantastic shapes, as though the
workmen, in their despair, had meant to use these as weapons against the
Indians, when attacked here, years ago. For the same band, with the
white leader, had attacked these works; and Cecilio showed us the dents
the Indian arrows had made in the little wooden door the men had
succeeded in closing, when first attacked. But the families of these men
had lived in the buildings outside the fort; and to rescue wife and
children from death, and worse than death, they had abandoned their
place of safety in the fort, and, with the superintendent leading them,
they had fought the savages bravely, but had been defeated and
slaughtered, at last. Leaving nine men with me, the lieutenant, guide,
and three men descended into the shaft, went some five hundred yards,
and, on their return, reported that everything looked as though deserted
only yesterday.
Having confidence in old Cecilio, we now took the trail we had missed
the other day, as this would enable us to visit the San José gold mine
on our way back to camp. We could ride only "Indian file," but soon came
to a mountain composed entirely of white flint. Sand and earth, carried
here by the wind, and bearing grass and flowers, could be scraped aside
anywhere, discovering underneath the same semi-transparent rock. Again
we took the narrow trail, which brought us to what appeared to be the
entrance to a cave, in the side of a hill; a wooden cross was fastened
over it, and a road, built entirely by hand, led to the half-consumed
remains of a number of buildings, on the banks of a creek. The guide
and lieutenant entered the mine alone, leaving the men for my
protection, but soon returned, as fallen earth blocked up the passage
near the entrance.
"But oh, _señora_, the gold taken from this mine was something
wonderful," the guide said, enthusiastically; "and there is still a
whole 'cow-skin' full of it, buried in one of these holes"--pointing to
different shafts we were passing on our way to the burnt cottages. "When
the Indians came here the white men tried to take it with them, but were
so closely pursued that they threw it into one of these places,
intending to come back for it; but all they could do, later, was to bury
their people decently, and the gold is still there--left for some
stranger to find."
The eyes of the soldiers--gathered around the graves we had dismounted
to see--glittered at the old guide's tale; but the sight of these
lonely, forgotten graves could awaken but one thought in my breast: How
long would it be before another group might bend over our graves and
say, "I wonder who lies buried here!"