A Remarkable Antique Piece--A New Species of Century Plant--Arrival
at Nacori, at the Foot of the Sierra Madre--Trincheras--A
Mammoth Tusk Secured--Climbing the Sierra Madre--A New Squirrel
Discovered--Solitude--Apache Monuments--Arrival at Upper Bavispe
River.
From Granados we took an easterly course, being at last able to
cross the Bavispe River, which, owing to heavy rains in the sierra,
had for some time been overflowing. Starting from this point, the
ground gradually rising, we arrived at Bacadehuachi, a small village
remarkable for its church, a massive adobe structure, the grand style
of which looked somewhat out of proportion in these mountains. It had
been built by the Franciscans more than 100 years ago, on the site
of an older Jesuit church, remains of which are still in existence,
and which in turn had been erected on the ruins of an ancient temple.
While inspecting the church Professor Libbey discovered that one
of the holy water fonts or stoups was a piece of great antiquity,
and we were informed that it had been dug up from the debris of the
ancient temple when the foundations for the present building were
laid. Its aesthetic value appealed even to the unscientific builders
of the church, who deemed the vessel worthy of a place in the new
cathedral, where it served as a benitier. Unfortunately, it had been
found necessary to engrave on the ancient carving some Roman letters
dedicating the vessel to its new purpose. Though this somewhat mars its
general character, the vase is a most valuable relic of prehistoric
Mexico, not only as a masterpiece of ancient art, but still more as
a way-mark or sign-post showing the trend of Aztec migrations.
It was not possible to obtain it right away, but a few days later
I sent a messenger to a gentleman in Granados, whose wife had been
relieved from illness by some remedy of mine, requesting him to use his
influence with the priest, and in due course I had the satisfaction
of possessing this valuable relic of history. The vase is made of
a soft, unctuous stone resembling steatite (soapstone); it is true
agalmatolite, a mineral popularly called pagoda stone. Through the
mouth of the human head carved out in front passes a copper tube,
which once no doubt pierced the thick wall of the vessel and penetrated
into its interior. This tube had been stopped up to make the piece
available for its new purpose.
Marching for several days through oaks and mesquites, over hills and
rising country, we reached Nacori, a poor village in the foot-hills of
the Sierra Madre. It is scarcely forty miles from Granados, and lies
at an elevation of 3,700 feet. Our camp, about two miles outside of
the village, was permeated with a delicious odour of acacia blossoms,
and water in the neighbouring mountains, though strongly impregnated
with iron, was quite palatable.
In this region Mr. Hartman found a new form of agave with delicate
stripes of white on the lanceolate leaves that constitute the basal
rosette of the plant. The flower stalk is only twelve or thirteen
inches high, and I should not wonder if this diminutive and beautiful
century plant some day became fashionable in greenhouses. It grows in
large numbers in the crevices of the rocks, the perpendicular walls
of canons often being studded with the bright little rosettes when
the drought has withered all herbaceous vegetation.
From here I made an excursion to an ancient pueblo site. As usual,
there were traces of small dwellings, huts of undressed stone,
and fragments of pottery. We found three mortars and one pestle,
a remarkable number of metates (the stone on which corn is ground),
and the corresponding grinding stones, showing that a large population
must have once lived here, huddled together in a small space.
But the most striking feature of antiquity met thus far on our journey
were curious stone terraces built across the small gullies. They
are called trincheras (trenches). Some of them do not appear to be
very old, and many present the appearance of tumble-down walls, but
the stones of which they are constructed were plainly used in their
natural state. Although many of the boulders are huge and irregular in
shape, they were used just as they were found. The building material
always conformed to the surroundings: in places where conglomerate
containing water-worn boulders abounded, this was used; where porphyry
was prevalent, blocks of that material were employed. There is no
trace of dressing or cutting, but in the mason work considerable
skill is evident. The walls are not vertical, but incline somewhat
toward the slope on which they are erected. The terrace thus formed
is often filled with soil to the height of the wall-top for a space
of from fifteen to twenty feet. Earth taken from them does not show
any colours. Some of these trincheras measure thirty feet in length
by four feet in height, while the smallest ones I saw were only five
feet long and three feet high. Naturally enough, the largest ones are
in the lower part of the gullies; then, some twenty-five feet back
and above, others almost as large may be found. As the arroyo rises
and narrows, the walls, each placed a little higher up the slope than
the preceding one, are necessarily smaller.
In the mountains near Nacori, especially on their eastern and
southeastern sides, trincheras were encountered in every gulch as high
up as six thousand feet, though steep crests and the mountain tops
bear no traces of them. In one arroyo, which was about a thousand feet
in length and of comparatively gentle slope, twenty-nine trincheras
were counted from the bed of the main drainage to the summit of the
mountain. Some of them were quite close together, three being within
eighteen feet of one another.
These trincheras somewhat resemble the small terrace gardens of
the Moqui Indians, and have undoubtedly been used for agricultural
purposes, just as they are used by the Tarahumares to this day (page
152). It is true that they are built in great numbers, sometimes
in localities that would appear unsuitable for farming; but, on the
other hand, they are seldom, if ever, found far from the remains of
habitations, a fact from which it may also reasonably be inferred
that the ruined houses, as well as the trincheras, were originally
built by the same race. Some of the terraces were, no doubt, erected
as a protection of the crop against enemies and wild animals; but
it is impossible to think that they were intended for irrigation
dams, though we did see water running through some, coming out of a
marsh. Still less likely is it that they had been used as mining dams.
As soon as the plains of Northern Sonora were left behind, and the
country became hilly and broken, these peculiar structures were
conspicuous. At first they appeared more like walls built simply
along the slopes of the hills, and not crossing gulches. They seem
to be more numerous in the western and central part of the sierra,
its spurs and foot-hills, than in the eastern part of the great
range. As regards their southern extent, they are not found further
south than the middle part of the state of Chihuahua. Captain Bourke,
in his book, "An Apache Campaign," mentions that "in every sheltered
spot could be discerned ruins, buildings, walls, and dams, erected by
an extinct race once possessing these regions." Mr. A. F. Bandelier,
on his journey to the Upper Yaqui River, in 1885, which took him as
far as Nacori, also refers to them, and Professor W. J. McGee, on his
expedition in 1895, found in Northeastern Sonora ruins locally known as
_Las Trincheras_, which he considered the most elaborate prehistoric
work known to exist in Northwestern Mexico. They comprise, he says,
terraces, stone-walls, and inclosed fortifications, built of loose
stones and nearly surrounding two buttes.
I must not omit to mention that in a week's exploration in the
mountains near Nacori, Mr. Stephen and his party did not find any
pottery fragments, nor flint flakes, nor grinding stones. They reported
that there was in that region no other trace of an early people than
the hundreds of trincheras in the lower portions of the arroyos.
Noteworthy, however, was the frequent occurrence of old trails across
the hills, some quite plainly traceable for three and four hundred
yards. Old oaks stretched their limbs across many of them quite close
to the ground.
While at Nacori I learned from the inhabitants that at no great
distance from their town there were several deposits containing _huesos
giganteos_ (giants' bones), a name given to fossils in this part of the
world, where the people imagine that the large bones were originally
those of giants. I had then neither time nor men to make excavations
of any importance; but Mr. White, the mineralogist of the expedition,
whom I sent to look into the matter, and who devoted a week to the
examination of the deposits, reported that one of them, in a valley
sixteen miles south of Nacori, was a bed of clay thirty feet thick and
about a mile and a half long. On the edge of this field he discovered
a tusk six feet eight inches long and twenty-six inches at its widest
circumference, and having almost the curve of a circle. It was not
petrified and had no bone core, but the hole filled in with clay,
and its colour was a rich mahogany. It was undoubtedly the tusk of
a mammoth.
From the beginning it had surprised me how very ignorant the people
of Sonora were regarding the Sierra Madre. The most prominent man
in Opoto, a town hardly forty miles from the sierra, told me that
he did not know how far it was to the sierra, nor was he able to say
exactly where it was. Not even at Nacori, so close to this tremendous
mountain range, was there much information to be gotten about it. What
the Mexicans know about that region may be briefly summed up thus:
That it is a vast wilderness of mountains most difficult of approach;
that it would take eight days to climb some of the high ridges;
that it contains immense pine forests alive with deer, bear, and
wonderfully large woodpeckers, able to cut down whole trees; and that
in its midst there are still existing numerous remains of a people
who vanished long ago, but who once tilled the soil, lived in towns
and built monuments, and even bridges over some of its canons.
This general ignorance is mainly due to the fact that until very
recently this entire part of the sierra, from the border of the
United States south about 250 miles, was under the undisputed control
of the wild Apache Indians. From their mountain strongholds these
marauders made raiding expeditions into the adjacent states, west
and east, sweeping down upon the farms, plundering the villages,
driving off horses and herds of cattle, killing men and carrying off
women and children into slavery. Mines became unworkable; farms had
to be deserted; the churches, built by the Spaniards, mouldered into
decay. The raiders had made themselves absolute masters, and so bold
were they that at one time a certain month in the year was set apart
for their plundering excursions and called "the moon of the Mexicans,"
a fact which did not prevent them from robbing at other seasons. Often
troops would follow them far into the mountains, but the "braves"
fought so skilfully, and hid so well in the natural fortresses of
their native domain, that the pursuit never came to anything, and
the Mexicans were completely paralysed with fear. The dread of the
terrible pillagers was so great that even at the time when I first
went into the district, the Mexicans did not consider it a crime to
shoot an Apache at sight.
Such a scourge did this tribe become that the Governor of Chihuahua
had a law passed through the Legislature, which put a certain price
upon the head of every Apache. But this law had soon to be repealed,
as the Mexicans, eager to get the reward, took to killing the peaceful
Tarahumares, whose scalps, of course, could not be distinguished from
those of the Apaches.
It was not even now safe for a small party to cross the Sierra Madre,
as dissatisfied Apaches were constantly breaking away from the San
Carlos Reservation in Arizona, and no Mexican could have been induced
to venture singly into that vast unknown domain of rock and forest,
about which lingered such painful memories of bloodshed and terror. [2]
In the early part of our journey a Mexican officer had called on me
to offer, in the name of the Governor of the State of Sonora, his
services as escort and protection against the Apaches; but I declined
the courtesy, preferring to depend rather upon my own men. I am happy
to say that I had no personal encounter with the dreaded "Shis Inday,"
or Men of the Woods, as they call themselves, though on one occasion
we came upon fresh tracks near one of our camps, and also upon small
bunches of yucca leaves tied together in a peculiar way known to the
Mexicans as signs intelligible only to the Apaches.
The only precaution I had taken against possible attacks was to augment
my force of trustworthy Mexican muleteers. Among the new recruits
was an honest-looking Opata Indian, who joined the camp one evening,
clad in the national costume of white cotton cloth, and carrying in
his hand a small bundle containing his wife's petticoat (probably
intended to do duty as a blanket) and a pair of scissors. This was his
whole outfit for a winter campaign in the Sierra Madre. They are hardy
people, these Indians! This man told me that he was thirty years old;
his "senora," he said, was twenty-five; when he married her she was
fifteen, and now they had eleven children.
Finally I succeeded in securing two guides. One of them was a very
intelligent man, who had been several times in the sierra; the other
one had been only as far as Chuhuichupa, and, although he did not
remember the way very well, still he thought that with the help of
the other man he would be able to make out the route. As we could do
no better, we had to take him as the best guide available.
After having received some supplementary provisions from Granados,
I at last, on December 2, 1890, began the ascent. It was a beautiful
day; the air was clear and warm and the sun shone bright, as it always
does at this time of the year in this favoured region. The genius of
spring seemed to hover about, and snow, frost and scarcity of grass
seemed far removed contingencies. Everything looked promising.
As I left the town, following the pack-train after having made the
last settlements with the natives, I passed a little hut, the last
homestead on this side of the sierra. In front of it stood a young
girl, her hand raised to shade her eyes against the rays of the sinking
sun. She had watched the expedition go by, and was much excited by the
strange sight of so many men, the wonderful array of animals and great
quantity of baggage never before seen in those parts of the world. With
her fine dark eyes, her loose wavy hair and graceful figure, she made
a strikingly beautiful picture, and as she called out in a sweet,
melodious voice, _"Adios, Senor!"_ I took this kindly greeting from a
pretty girl as a good omen for my journey. On the spur of the moment
I dismounted and perpetuated the auspicious scene by means of a kodak
which I carried fastened to the pommel of my saddle. I wish it had been
possible for me to send her that picture as a token of my gratitude
for her cheery greeting. She surely would have appreciated it, as
all Mexicans delight in seeing their photographs. Then I turned my
face to the east and soon overtook my men.
To reach the Sierra Madre from the Bavispe River by way of Nacori,
two--or, as the Mexicans consider it, three--sierras have to be
crossed, all running, generally speaking, in a northwesterly to
southeasterly direction. The first two ranges are quite easy to
climb. The third is the Sierra Madre proper, which the Mexicans here
call Sierra de Nacori, as the upper Bavispe River from its source makes
a great detour toward the north around it, thereby partly separating
it from the main chain. Even this range does not really present any
unsurmountable difficulties if the weather is fine; in bad weather, I
admit, some parts of the trail we made would be all but impracticable.
Having reached the second range called the Sierra de Huehuerachi,
near its northern terminus, and looking backward, we see the Sierra de
Bacadehuachi lying farthest to the west. On its eastern flank tower
steep-tilted broken masses of conglomerate, and the frowning row
of hog-backs just north and east of Nacori are only a continuation
of that range. But looking east from where we were we obtained the
first close view of the main range of the Sierra Madre (Sierra de
Nacori). It rises bold and majestic on the opposite side of the valley,
at the bottom of which runs the little river of Huehuerachi.
In this valley we camped for two days, being delayed by rains. It was
early in December, but we found _Helianthus_ ten to twelve feet high in
bloom everywhere in the canons. A _Salvia_ with a blue corolla, dotted
with red glands, was very striking, a new variety, as it proved. We
also observed elders with flowers and leaves at the same time, and
the _Bambusa_ formed a thick light-green undergrowth in beautiful
contrast to the darker shades of the oaks, elders, and fan palms. The
latter were the last of their kind we saw on this side of the sierra.
We then went six miles further to the northeast. At first the trail
followed the little river, whose clear and rapid water is about a
foot deep and on an average six feet wide. Frequently its bed had
to be cleared of palm trees to make it passable for the pack train,
and big boulders and heavy undergrowth made travel rough. Then,
ascending a cordon which led directly up to the main range, we
followed for a while a dim trail on which the Apaches used to drive
the herds of cattle they had stolen, and which is said to lead to a
place so inaccessible that two Indians could keep a whole company at
bay. The surface soil we had lately been travelling over was covered
with boulders and fragments of conglomerate.
The Sierra Madre was now so close that the tilted masses of its rocks
seemed to overhang our tents threateningly where we had pitched them
at its foot. From this camp we had about the same splendid view as
from the ridge of Huehuerachi we had just left behind; and between
us and the foot-hills of the Sierra de Bacadehuachi stretched out a
vast mass of barren-looking rocks and hills. The Mexicans call them
_agua blanca_, a designation also applied to the small water course
that runs through them in a northerly and southerly direction, but
which from our point of view could not be made out in the chaotic
confusion. Away off toward the north, at a distance of from fifteen
to twenty miles, could be seen a high chain of sharp peaks.
I may mention here that I found the water of many streamlets and
brooks throughout the western mountains of Mexico to have a slightly
whitish colour and a dull, opalescent look, like a strong solution
of quinine. The Mexicans call it _agua blanca_, or _agua zarca_, and
consider it the best water they have. Many places, especially ranches,
are named after it. In the locality where we now found ourselves the
water had a slightly bitter taste, owing to a strong admixture of
iron and other minerals, but generally it was very palatable.
Here, only twenty-three miles from Nacori, and at an elevation
of 4,000 feet, we were obliged to make camp for three days. Dense
fogs and occasional hard showers made travel impossible. Besides,
our principal guide, Agustin Rios, became dangerously ill. He was
sixty-five years old, and I decided to send him back.
When I hired him I had not been aware that he was afflicted with an
incurable disease, and that on this account his wife had tried to
keep him at home. Now he had to be carried on a sort of palanquin
constructed for the occasion, and I regret to state that he died
before he reached his home in Nacori. He had been a reliable man,
and his loss was very deplorable.
Before he left he gave me directions for finding a rather large ancient
pueblo, which he had come across once in the sierra, and of which he
frequently spoke to us. However, our search for it proved fruitless,
and I am inclined to think that it would probably not have differed
much from those we found later on Bavispe River.
From now on I made it a rule to send three or four men about two days
ahead of the main body of the expedition, to make a path. Occasionally
they were guided by Apache tracks, but for the most part we cut our own
way through the wilderness. Instead of adopting the Mexican method of
going uphill as straight as practicable, I had the trail cut zigzag,
and to this I attribute the fact that I was able to pull through at
all, as it saved the animals an immense amount of strain. The steepest
inclination we ascended was 40 deg., while for the most part we climbed
at an angle of about 30 deg.. On some of the ridges, in order to help an
animal up, one man had to drag it by a line, while two others pushed
it from behind. In many places the mules had to be led one by one
along the narrow edge of chasms.
To look at these mountains is a soul-inspiring sensation; but to travel
over them is exhaustive to muscle and patience. And the possibility
of losing at any moment perhaps the most valuable part of your outfit
is a constant and severe strain on your mind. Nobody except those who
have travelled in the Mexican mountains can understand and appreciate
the difficulties and anxieties attending such a journey. Not only the
animals themselves, but everything they carry is vital to the success
of the expedition, and there is always a danger that, for instance,
your camera and photographic outfit, and the priceless collection of
negatives already taken, may roll down a precipice.
A mule with its bulky pack is, to a certain extent, helpless on these
narrow mountain trails. Old and experienced animals often manoeuvre
their packs with a cleverness that is almost human: yet, whenever a
mule runs accidentally against some projection, or its foot slips,
the poor beast invariably loses its balance, and over it goes,
down the hill with ever-increasing velocity.
On one occasion I heard a noise coming from above without being at
first able to discern what caused it. A few stones came tumbling down,
and were presently followed by a donkey, pack and all, turning over
and over with astounding speed. It cleared a perpendicular rock some
twenty feet high and landed at its base, rolling over twice. Then,
to my amazement, it rose to its feet in the midst of its scattered
cargo. And do you know what that cargo consisted of?--a case of
dynamite and our tool chest! As fast as their legs could carry them,
two Mexicans were by its side, promptly reloading the donkey and
leading it up to the trail as coolly as if nothing had happened. A
very fine mule, raised on the plains of Arizona, was naturally giddy,
and met with such a mishap three times in one day, tumbling down 150
to 200 feet without, however, being seriously hurt. At first I was
greatly shocked to see the animals thus rolling over and over with
their packs, down the mountain sides, never stopping until checked by
some large tree or rock, sometimes 200 feet below. But the Mexicans
were evidently quite accustomed to such happenings, which seemed to
be in the regular line of their travel.
I could not help admiring the agility as well as the valour of my
Mexican packers and muleteers on such occasions. They moved about as
sure-footed and quick as sailors on their ship, and always on the
alert. Whenever one of the poor beasts lost its foothold, the men
would instantly run after it, and as soon as some obstacle stopped
its downward career they would be by its side and relieve it of its
burden. Of course, sometimes the animal was badly bruised about the
head, and unable to carry a pack for a few days; but, _mira-bile
dictu!_ in the majority of cases it rose to its feet. Then, after
giving it a few moments' respite, the packers would strap the cargo
again on its back, unless they deemed it proper to take a part of
it upon themselves, so that the beast might more safely climb the
declivity. The men really seemed indefatigable. One of them once took
upon his head a large case of honey and carried it up the ridge on a
run. Strange as it may sound, on my first journey across the Sierra
Madre I did not lose one animal by such accidents.
Climbing, climbing, climbing, one massive cordon after another, at the
start through dense oak thickets, and over hills flattened and eroded
with countless deep, precipitous gashes seaming the rock in every
direction. Numerous springs oozed and trickled from the stratified
conglomerate along the edges, sides, and bottoms of the ravines. The
tops of some of these truncated knolls were quite swampy in the
depressions, and covered with a thin-stemmed feathery grass. Here and
there was a clump of scrub oaks; sparsely scattered about were small
pines. We found great numbers of _Opuntia Missouriensis_, called by
the Mexicans nopal; small mesquite shrubs, too, are seen everywhere,
while the resurrection plant covers great areas, like the heather
on the Scotch hills. Here are also found century plants, or agaves,
and many species of small ferns, such as the graceful maidenhair. In
the larger water-courses are poplars and maples, now presenting their
most brilliant hues, and carrying the thoughts of the Americans back
to their Northern homes.
Thus we advanced for about six miles and made camp, at an elevation
of 6,300 feet, on some old trincheras, with a fine view over the vast
country we had left below. Large flocks of gray pigeons of remarkable
size squatted on the pine trees nearby, and two specimens of the
gigantic woodpecker we here observed for the first time. Here, too,
Mr. Robinette shot a new species of squirrel, _Sciurus Apache_. It
was large, of a pale grayish-yellow color varied with black, and
having a long, full and bushy tail.
We had now arrived in the pine region of the sierra. The Mexican
scouts reported that the country ahead of us was still more difficult
of access; but the track having been laid out well by Professor Libbey
along the pine-covered slopes, we safely arrived at the crest of the
sierra, which here has an elevation of 8,200 feet. The steep slopes
of the valleys and crevices were covered with slippery pine needles
eight to twelve inches long, while the pines rose up to a height
of a hundred feet or more. The forest, never touched by a woodman's
axe, had a remarkably young and fresh look about it. Now and then,
however, at exposed places we came upon trees broken off like matches,
telling of what terrific storms may rage over these solitary regions
that received us calmly enough. Not until we had reached the top did
we feel the wind blowing pretty hard from the east and encouraging
us in our hopes that the fine weather would continue, although the
moon appeared hazy.
Having ascended the sierra, we made a picturesque camp on the top
of the cordon, in the midst of forests so dense that we did not get
any view of the landscape. While here, Mr. Stephen discovered, on
the summit of a peak, about four hundred and twenty feet above the
brow of the ridge, a small, circular structure about four feet in
diameter. Four or five large fragments of scoria, each about fifteen
inches high, were set around in a circle, and the space between them
was filled in with small fragments. No nicety was shown in the work,
but the arrangement of the stones was not accidental. It was, however,
quite old, for in several places the fragments were cemented together
with a thick coat of lichen. The purpose of the circle is a matter
of conjecture.
We were now obliged, as the guide did not seem to know any more
of the country, to explore ahead of us before the main body of the
expedition could proceed further. Several of us went out in different
directions, and I happened to strike the right course, which here
unexpectedly goes first northward. Accompanied by my dog "Apache,"
I walked in the fresh morning air through the sombre pine woods,
the tops of which basked in glorious sunshine, and along the high
cordon, which ran up to a height of 8,900 feet (the highest point
reached on my first expedition over the Sierra Madre), until I came
to a point where it suddenly terminated. But I soon ascertained that
a spur branching off to the east would lead us in the right direction.
I sat down to gaze upon the magnificent panorama of the central
part of the Sierra Madre spread out before me. To the north and
northeast were pine-covered plateaus and hills in seemingly infinite
successions; on the eastern horizon my eyes met the dark, massive
heights of Chuhuichupa, followed towards the south by ridge upon
ridge of true sierras with sharp, serrated crests, running mainly
from northwest to southeast. And between them and me was an expanse
of gloomy, pine-hidden cordons, one succeeding close upon another,
and running generally in the same direction as the sierras. Primeval
stillness and solitude reigned all over the woodland landscape. I
like the society of man, but how welcome and refreshing are occasional
moments of undisturbed communion with Nature!
On the following day the pack train moved along the path I had walked
over. We were pleasantly surprised to find at this season, the middle
of December, and at this elevation, a species of violet in bloom,
while _Lupinus_ and _Vicia_ were already in seed. We made our camp
at a place 7,400 feet above sea level, and here we noticed trincheras
close by, with water running through them from a marsh.
We also happened to come upon some stone piles made of rough stones
laid on top of each other to a height of about three feet. The Mexicans
called them "Apache Monuments," and I saw here eight or ten, three
at a distance of only twenty yards from each other and lying in a
line from east to west. On the next day we found an Apache track with
similar monuments. Some of these piles did not seem to be in places
difficult to travel, and therefore could hardly have been intended
for guide-posts, though others might have served that purpose; nor
is it easy to see how they could have been meant for boundary marks,
unless they were erected by some half-castes who kept company with the
Apaches, to divide off the hunting grounds of various families. It
seems to me more likely that they are connected with some religious
rite.
We had some little difficulty in making our descent to the Bavispe
River, but at last we discovered, and travelled down, an old but
still practicable trail, dropping nearly 1,000 feet. A little further
northward we came down another 1,000 feet, and thus we gradually
reached Bavispe, which is here a rapid, roaring stream, girth-deep,
and in many places deeper. It here flows northward, describing the
easterly portion of the curve it forms around the Sierra de Nacori.
I selected as a camping ground a small mesa on the left bank of the
river, among pines and oaks and high grass, about forty feet above
the water edge. A meadow set park-like with pines extended from here
nearly three-quarters of a mile along the river, and was almost half a
mile wide. Near our camp we found several old and rusty empty tin cans,
such as are used for putting up preserved food. One of them was marked
"Fort Bowie." Doubtless this spot had been used before as a camping
ground, probably by some of General Crook's scouts.