Roger Frank and Sue Clark from page images digitized by the Google Books
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by HathiTrust Digital Library (https://www.hathitrust.org/)
GIRL SCOUTS IN ARIZONA AND NEW MEXICO
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: Sandy rode with Julie.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
GIRL SCOUTS IN ARIZONA AND NEW MEXICO
BY
LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY
Author of
THE POLLY BREWSTER BOOKS,
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS BOOKS
ILLUSTRATED
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS—NEW YORK
Made in the United States of America
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1923, by
GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY
Printed in the U. S. A.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
I PLANS FOR THE SOUTHWEST TRIP
II JULIE’S SECRET AMBITION
III ON THE OLD SANTA FÉ TRAIL
IV JULIE MAKES A CONQUEST
V SANDY HAS HIS SAY
VI WHAT HAPPENED IN THE PECOS FORESTS
VII WHERE ARE THE BURROS?
VIII GILLY TURNS FOREST RANGER
IX TALLY AND THE RUSTLERS
X ANCIENT RUINS AND MODERN ROMANCE
XI PADRE MIGUEL’S STORY
XII JULIE’S TÊTE-À-TÊTE
XIII THE ENCHANTED MESA
XIV AT ST. MICHAEL’S MISSION
XV THE PAINTED DESERT
XVI THE REGION OF THE PETRIFIED FORESTS
XVII BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL
------------------------------------------------------------------------
GIRL SCOUTS IN ARIZONA AND NEW MEXICO
CHAPTER ONE
PLANS FOR THE SOUTHWEST TRIP
“Verny, haven’t you heard from Gilly since he wrote us that he was
planning the trip to Arizona and New Mexico?” asked Juliet Lee, one of
the girl scouts of Dandelion Troop.
“Only the telegram from Mr. Gilroy, which came yesterday, telling us
that he had mailed a letter of particulars the day before. I did not
expect to receive it from Denver in twenty-four hours’ time, you know,”
was Mrs. Vernon’s smiling reply.
“No; but it ought to arrive to-night or to-morrow morning,” said Julie,
meditatively.
“I hope we start right off, Verny. It would be dreadful if we had to
lose a week of our summer’s vacation,” declared Elizabeth Lee, who was
always known as “Betty” by her family and friends.
“Well, at least, we have our things all ready to pack the moment we
find out when to start and where to meet Gilly,” remarked Joan Allison,
one of the group of scouts that had spent the preceding summer, with Mr.
Gilroy as their host, in the Rocky Mountains.
A mournful wail from Ruth Bentley, another girl in that group of
mountain scouts, prevented Mrs. Vernon from speaking. “I’d _so_ much
rather go with you all and have the wonderful times you will have this
summer, than have to accompany father and mother to Europe! If only Dad
could see that I might be educated better on this scout tour than in
Paris, he might change his mind. But he refuses to _see_!
Julie laughingly added: “Remember the biblical words, Ruth? ‘Eyes have
they and they see not.’”
“Well, that’s Dad!” exclaimed Ruth.
“I am so thankful that I am able to go with you this summer that I am
just keeping quiet and marking time. I feel as if I must wake up and
find it all a dream, should I express my joy as fervently as I want to,”
was Hester Wynant’s humorous declaration.
“We’re all glad with you, Hesty. While we were ‘doing the Rockies’ last
summer, we often said how nice it would be to have had you there,” added
Anne Bailey. “This year you might say as much of me.”
There were other girls in that scout meeting held at Mrs. Vernon’s home
this first day of the summer vacation of the Elmertown school; but
these girls, because they could not be with their chums on the
southwestern tour, seemed too disconsolate to make any remarks about the
proposed interesting trip.
It is taken for granted that the reader has heard of these girl scouts
who, each summer after the closing of school, endeavor to visit a famous
range of mountains, and thus became distinguished as the Mountain
Scouts.
The first summer of their scoutdom they camped upon a ridge of the Blue
Mountains in New Jersey. Here they acquired the knowledge, and tested
their ability, to join the National Organization of Girl Scouts; later
when they had two Patrols, according to rules, they were enrolled and
became known as the Girl Scouts of Dandelion Troop.
It was during their first camping season that they went to Blue Beard’s
cave, one of the local points of interest, and discovered a man who had
been injured by two escaped convicts, who, after robbing him, managed to
get away. The poor man was unconscious and would have died in that dark
and seldom-visited cave on the top of the mountain had it not been for
the timely assistance given him by the scouts and their Captain.
Back in the mountain camp Mr. Gilroy, the convalescing guest of
Dandelion Patrol, explained how he came to visit Blue Beard’s cave that
day. Thus the girls learned that he was a great admirer of scout work
and had been a patron of the Boys’ Scout Organization. The junior scouts
who had rescued him now decided to enlist his interests in the Girls’
Scout Organization, as well.
Mr. Gilroy continued his visit at the Dandelion Camp for a few days
after he felt completely restored to normal strength, and, during this
visit, became deeply interested in Mrs. Vernon’s plans and propositions
for her girls. Because of the first aid rendered him in his hour of
extremity, Mr. Gilroy insisted upon having the Scout Patrol visit his
Adirondack Estate the following summer. To this unexpected proposition
the girls gladly agreed, providing their parents and Mrs. Vernon would
consent and advance the necessary money to defray the costs of the trip.
Hence the second summer of the Dandelion Troop of Girl Scouts was spent
on the shores of First Lake, one of the Fulton Chain of lakes. There was
a boys’ camp a mile away, and Mr. Gilroy divided his time and interest
between the two camps. The girls won such favor, however, that their
host invited them to accompany him the following summer on a camping
trip through the Rocky Mountains.
Mrs. Vernon, who had founded Dandelion Troop, was the Captain of the
scouts; Juliet Lee was their Leader; and Joan Allison was the Corporal.
Since that first enrollment, when there were but four girls, namely:
Julie and Betty Lee; Joan Allison, and Ruth Bentley, there were now two
flourishing Patrols. In Patrol Number One were the first four girls, and
Hester Wynant, Amy Ward, Edith and Judith Blake and Anne Bailey. Patrol
Number Two was larger, but the members were younger. It was Patrol
Number One that had spent the second summer in the Adirondacks.
There were but five girls of Patrol Number One who went to the Rockies
for the third season. They were: Julie and Betty Lee, Joan Allison, Ruth
Bentley and Anne Bailey. Hester Wynant could not go because she had been
needed at home. Mrs. Blake had refused to hear of having her two girls
go and, perhaps, risk their being lost or killed in the wild and woolly
west. Amy Ward’s mother listened to Mrs. Blake; hence Amy Ward had
remained home.
Now, this fourth summer for mountaineering, the plan of visiting Arizona
and New Mexico appealed so strongly to every girl in Dandelion Troop
that mothers had heard nothing, morning, noon, and night, for weeks, but
glowing accounts of this trip. A very important factor brought to bear
in their arguments for this southwestern trip being that not one of
those girls who had gone to the Rockies had been lost or injured as Mrs.
Blake had foretold. Instead of disaster and troubles, the scouts had
returned to Elmertown looking the picture of health and happiness.
Mrs. Blake, however, held up both hands in horror when a trip to New
Mexico and Arizona was suggested; and, through her vehement objections,
she influenced her friend, Mrs. Ward, to keep Amy home this time as
aforetime. Thus, three bitterly rebellious girls sat with their
fellow-scouts that day in Mrs. Vernon’s home, and cried over the fate of
having such unreasoning mothers.
“Our list has dwindled to four girls; one less than we had on the Rocky
Mountain trip. Ruth has to accompany her parents to Europe, but I wish
she could have this rare treat, instead of Paris,” sighed Mrs. Vernon.
“As for Judith and Edith and Amy—well! I dare not say what is in my
heart, but I wish I was their mother, that’s all!”
“How we wish you were, Verny!” exclaimed all three girls.
“If my sister would postpone her wedding day till October, I, too, could
go with you,” remarked Anne Bailey. “But Eleanor says the last week of
July is the only time Henry can take a vacation; so the wedding has to
be then. I’d a heap rather be scouting out west with you girls than be a
bridesmaid at a wedding. If I ever become engaged to marry, I won’t be
so selfish as to insist upon keeping my younger sister home from a
glorious summer-tour for nothing more than a poky ceremony that takes
only five minutes! Just think of me losing all your fun this summer and
moping, instead, about a house that is turned topsy-turvy for a
prospective bride.”
“We will miss you awfully, Anne,” said Julie, teasingly, “because we
won’t know what to do with the left-overs from the camp meals.” Anne was
a healthy, hearty eater, and during the summer in the Rockies had made
the most of every opportunity to eat.
“Perhaps you will command your younger sister as Eleanor now commands
you, Anne, when you are Eleanor’s age and have a beau,” remarked Mrs.
Vernon, smilingly.
“Verny! I want you to wake me up sharply if you find me, at the age of
twenty, hypnotized with any young man that happens to cast an eye upon
my fair face,” laughed Anne. “A girl, now-days, ought to remain single
till she is twenty-five or -six. Then she knows her own mind, and won’t
hanker for a divorce the moment she learns she will have to cook and sew
for a man she thought was to be her permanent supply for candy, flowers,
and theater-parties.”
The scouts laughed merrily; Anne’s views were well known to them,
because she took every opportunity to speak her mind on the subject of
sweethearts. “Without any prospects other than love!” was her usual
conclusion.
“Well, scouts, as I was saying long before all these digressions, the
applicants for this trip are Julie and Betty Lee, Joan Allison, and
Hester Wynant. If you can bring about a change of heart in your parents
before we actually leave here, there will be no difficulty in tucking
you in at the last moment of the last day,” suggested Mrs. Vernon. “Even
should a mother relent later, you can wire us and come on to the nearest
railroad stop, where we can pick you up for the tag end of the tour.”
“Verny, that might answer in my case!” exclaimed Anne Bailey. “If
Eleanor is safely married, I can rush away the last of July and join you
for the month of August. I may not get the whole loaf, but a slice of
bread will be better than none, you know.”
“Besides, mother may relent when she sees the postal cards of all the
beautiful places you visit,” added Amy Ward, eagerly. “Once you are away
from the Grand Canyon that Mrs. Blake is forever harping about, my
parents may consent to let me go with Anne, in August.”
“That would be great, Amy!” exclaimed Joan, gladly.
“Well, then, girls, say we leave the matter open,” said Mrs. Vernon.
“Any scout who can secure the consent of her parents to allow her to
join us out west during this summer that we plan to spend there, will be
told exactly how to reach us. For this purpose I propose Joan, the
scribe, to keep those back home fully informed of our plans and proposed
stopping places each coming week. In this way you can keep tabs on our
movements, and can reach us by telegraph any time we might be in a town
where there is telegraph communication.” As the speaker concluded this
encouraging amendment to the stern parents’ verdict, the maid knocked at
the door of the large living-room.
“Come in, Mary,” called Mrs. Vernon, glancing at the half-opened door.
“Shure, ma’am, it’s onny the letter ye’es was a-lookin’ fer awl ov
yistiddy. Here it be’es.” So saying, Mary handed a thick letter to her
mistress.
“Oh, girls!” exclaimed the scout Captain, “it’s from Mr. Gilroy.”
Exclamations and sounds of delight came from every one present and,
immediately, Mrs. Vernon was surrounded by eager girls. No time was lost
in tearing open the envelope and in removing the typewritten
instructions.
As the Captain unfolded the paper, she said: “How nice it is to have had
this arrive while you were still present. Now we shall read the news
together.”
Realizing that every scout was impatient with eagerness to hear the
contents of the momentous letter, Mrs. Vernon began to read without
further delay.
“My dear pals of the Rockies:
I suppose you received my telegram which was sent to prepare
you for the coming of this volume. Now that I have completed
it, I am sending it to you without reading it again to see
that every punctuation mark is in place, and that the i’s
are dotted, or the t’s crossed, knowing, as I do, that my
brilliant readers will not find fault with my style no
matter what errors mark its literary value. After these few
words of preface, dear readers, I must unburden my soul of
the weight that is oppressing it.
The weight, at present, consists of the etcetera of
preparing a group of lively scouts for a desert life in New
Mexico and Arizona. Such preparation includes, item: a stock
of rain and dew that must last us throughout the season
spent on the hot sands and in the sun-baked atmosphere of
the Bad Land; also, item: tents inside which you will have
to crawl to keep your eyes from star-blind; item: the
Japanese parasols for day use, which must intervene between
you and the dense shade thrown by the giant cactus plants
which grow in jungled luxuriance on the southwestern
deserts.
Thus far, I have not been able to secure the special brand
of ice which is guaranteed not to melt in July and August;
but I have hopes of finding enough of this necessity near
Gallinas Canyon to last us for our trip of desert touring.
Now, Captain, and Leader, and Corporal, dears, please read
the foregoing to the timid parents in Elmertown and assure
them that such dangers as I have mentioned are positively
the only ones to be found in the wilderness of this isolated
corner of the universe. Perhaps my description may influence
one or more of the mothers to make concessions to their
daughters’ own wishes to come west and try out the desert.
Then, verily, would the “desert blossom as a rose,” with a
bouquet of lovely blossoms as I know Dandelions to be.
But I must cease my floral flatteries and confine myself to
the merely practical part of this letter. As a foreword to
such material information, let me tell you, girls, that our
old friend Tally has agreed to guide us throughout the
entire trip; Omney signed up with an English party of
tourists who are doing Colorado and Wyoming, hence he is now
breaking his heart because he had not known of our summer
plans in time to have shared Tally’s joys. I’m sorry for
him, but glad to have Tally.
You scouts know quite well what sort of outfit to carry on
this tour of the southwest; because it will be the same as
that which you brought last summer for the camping in the
Rockies. There will be just as cold nights, and the peaks
just as high as those we had last summer. Because we speak
of a desert in Arizona, one must not think that it will be
the broiling heat of the Sahara, though I _will_ say that
our western deserts can produce a pretty good imitation of
the Far East patented and copyrighted article. Therefore,
and whereas, I will add, a change to summer apparel might be
pleasant if you happen to stray to the middle of one of
these sand-spots at noon-day. Use your judgment about
mosquito-netting dresses, but use _my_ judgment about
flannel underwear, woolen golf-stockings and pure wool
knickers and shirt-waists.
We shall not take a French laundress on this trip, neither
will we establish a hair-dressing and manicuring parlor _de
luxe_ at every halt, so leave your beauty implements at home
and resign yourself to trust Nature for the genuine article
this season.
Now, having given you an itemized list of what you will
_not_ need for this outing, I will proceed to give you
directions of how to find me one week from Monday—the Monday
I am mailing this letter, and not next Monday week, or two
weeks before last Monday.
I know a Proverb—I can hear you laugh, but I really do read
the Bible—that says, “The better the day the better the
deed,” so I want to start you off on your summer trip on the
best day in the week—Sunday. If you take the train from
Elmertown early Sunday morning you can get the Chicago
Limited which leaves Philadelphia on Sunday afternoon. I
figure you will save time and money by going to Philly
instead of to Trenton, the latter being almost as far east
from your town as the former is west, but west is your
destination, hence—well, I need not explain to girl scouts.
This Limited will stop at Philadelphia, if Julie will stand
on the track and flag it energetically, after the manner she
signaled from the bluff that time when she was wrecked in
the rapids. I’m sure you will find seats on the ocean-side
of the train to Chicago, if you use one of those sweet scout
smiles at the gruff old conductor on the train. Tell him you
are personal friends of mine if you want to get thrown off
the rear platform of the train at the next water-tank. He
knows me well, hence he has vowed to use the gilded rule on
me and mine, and treat all my friends as he would treat me.
If you can manage to stick to the Limited till she pulls
into Chi., I’ll meet you at the station and get even with
your conductor for bringing you safely to your destination.
If you get those knobs of rock, which the Pullman Company
designate as feather pillows, and learn that you cannot
rest your tender heads upon them, use your suit-cases
instead; you’ll find them much softer and more apt to give
you pleasant dreams. I’ve used my metal box which I carry
for mineral specie and I prefer it to those pillows.
Now, my girls, having written you this valuable advice I
feel as if I had earned my night’s sleep. There is one more
item you may wish to know—every one asks this question,
hence I expect you will: “by which route do we enter the
enchanted land of the great southwest?” But I must tell you
that I have not yet decided. The agent who keeps such
decisions hidden in my subconscious mind expects to let me
know in a day or two.
A friend to whom I confided my trouble in selecting a good
educational route for this trip told me to have you scouts
swim to the Enchanted Cañon. He tells me the Colorado River
is unusually wet this season, and will afford you a
diversion you never yet experienced. I prefer to ride there
on the Santa Fé railroad, though I believe the swim will be
much cheaper.
I am inclosing a short itinerary for the Captain to follow,
and she will tell you when and where you are to launch this
summer’s campaign. Now, if that is all you wish to know, I
had best say good-by to you and to Denver for the present,
and hie me to Chicago where I will await you on the platform
of the station next Monday noon. I have a date with the
oculist in the Loop at Chi. to fit me with goggles that give
the wearer the faculty of seeing twenty times the focal
power of one pair of human eyes, as I will need that many
eyes if I have to keep them on you girls this summer.
Consider yourselves paternally kissed upon the brows, my
dear girls, because such kisses, via paper, are guaranteed
to be strictly hygienic and sanitary. Hence, after this form
of affection, I bid you adieu till we meet
Gilly-of-the-Dandelioners.”
The scouts had laughed merrily at this letter, but once it was ended
they looked surprised.
“Didn’t he say a word about outfits and routes?” asked Julie, frowning.
“Maybe it is written down on this slip of paper,” said Mrs. Vernon,
opening the folded sheet and glancing over it “Yes, he has all the meat
of the question on this single sheet,” added she.
After reading it, the Captain said: “Oh, I am so glad!”
“What? What did he say?” chorused the scouts, eagerly.
“Why, he heard from your Unk Verny and he says that he expects to meet
us in Kansas City as we go through on the Santa Fé. But Gilly will meet
us in Chicago next Monday—to-day is Tuesday. Tally, our guide, will meet
us at La Junta. Isn’t that splendid?”
Those scouts who had known Tally, the Indian guide, expressed their
delight at the news, and then Mrs. Vernon went on to say: “The main
items on this list seems to be repeated every other line. Gilly wishes
to impress upon our minds that we must travel light. He also says that
he has shopped for all the accessories we might need for the summer, and
we are to bring the least possible change of clothing. If we need more
at any time it will be easy enough to buy.”
“Next Monday?” exclaimed Anne Bailey. “Then there isn’t a chance for us
stay-at-home scouts to convince our parents that they ought to let us go
with you.”
“And it isn’t going to give us much time to pack either,” added Julie,
dancing a fandango around the room.
“We must send the girls at home a postcard every day,” said Betty. “Then
they can use them to make their mothers relent.”
“As long as we are not expected to write. I’ll second that suggestion,”
added Joan.
“Well, scouts, I have a motion to put, also,” remarked Mrs. Vernon, “and
that is, suppose we adjourn this official meeting and convene at an
informal one in the dining-room?”
To this motion every one present cried “aye, aye!” for they knew from
past experiences that such informal meetings in the dining-room meant
but one thing: ice-cream and great slices of home-made layer-cake.
Um-m-m-m!
CHAPTER TWO
JULIE’S SECRET AMBITION
Pleadings and prayers availed naught for those girls who were yearning
to go southwest, yet dared not oppose parental judgment. Hence the
Captain and four scouts only took the early Sunday train to
Philadelphia, and there boarded the Limited to Chicago.
True to his word, Mr. Gilroy stood waiting at the terminal for the
Dandelion party. “‘Oh, say, can you see,’” he began to sing as a welcome
to the scouts when they ran down the station platform to greet their
friend.
After doing his best to answer the questions of five females who all
spoke at the same time, Mr. Gilroy held up both hands in despair. “I’ll
do anything you say, girls, but spare the remnant of my ear-drums.”
Thus Mrs. Vernon was given a chance to be heard. “Are we to remain in
Chicago for any length of time, Gilly, or do we take a train from here
to-day?”
“We leave here this evening at eight on the Santa Fé; I have the
railroad and Pullman tickets in my pocket. All you will have to do
between now and then is to amuse me,” replied Mr. Gilroy.
“How about taking you for a nice dry walk out on Lake Michigan, as you
suggested in your letter of instructions,” giggled Julie.
“Or better still, give you a deep-sea bath up in North Chicago in the
vicinity of Edgewater Beach,” added Joan.
“I’ve had both those constitutionals this morning, thank you,” returned
Mr. Gilroy instantly.
“Well, then,” declared Mrs. Vernon, “we ought to take you to luncheon
and see how much you can eat for the money we are willing to spend on
you.”
“Now! that’s more to my fancy,” retorted Mr. Gilroy. “I’ll never refuse
an invitation to eat. But, then, you know that, after having hiked the
Rockies in my company last summer.”
Mr. Gilroy, as he spoke, escorted the scouts to the taxi-stand. They
drove from the station and went along Michigan Boulevard to a well-known
caterer’s and there enjoyed the luncheon. Although Mr. Gilroy had been
the invited guest of the scouts he managed to turn the tables on them
when the check was delivered by the waitress. In spite of all protests,
he paid the bill and then laughed at the would-be hostesses.
After leaving the restaurant, Mr. Gilroy secured a large
seven-passenger car and took the scouts for a sight-seeing trip. They
passed the Museum and Public Library, and then drove up the Lake Shore
Drive to Lincoln Park. At the Edgewater Beach hotel they stopped for
afternoon tea.
“As this is the last chance you have for the summer to enjoy the social
cup, I advise you to make the most of it,” suggested Mr. Gilroy, as he
led his party out upon the vast balcony that extends over the Lake.
“How beautiful are the ever-changing colors of the water,” exclaimed
Mrs. Vernon, as she watched the great lake before her.
“It’s said to be one of the most remarkable bodies of water in America,
because of its kaleidoscope manner of merging one color to another in so
short a time. Look out there by the lighthouse, for instance: the water
over there looks quite green. Up to the north it is a deep blue, and
down in front of us it is a tawny yellow. Towards Jackson Park it is
brown—all at the same time,” remarked Mr. Gilroy.
“But you ought to see it in the winter, folks, when the northeasters
tear loose and lash it into a wild beast,” said Mrs. Vernon. “The year
Mr. Vernon and I were here we lived at the Grand Beach Hotel, where my
windows had a fine view of the water.”
The tea and tempting French pastry now appeared and Lake Michigan became
a dry issue to the girls.
Mr. Gilroy and his party boarded the train shortly before the time of
its departure, but they had not dined in the city, therefore they
sought the dining-car soon after the train pulled out of Chicago. Here
they sat and enjoyed the scenery until it was too dark to see anything
from the wide windows.
That night on the Pullman sleeping car Julie decided not to miss one bit
of that wonderful ride. She literally followed Mr. Gilroy’s suggestion
to use the suit-case for her head, but she placed the pillows of the
berth on top of the luggage to enable her to prop up her head and gaze
from the car window. The moon was almost full, and the silvery
translucence which bathed everything seen from the flying train soothed
and rested Julie’s nervous activities as she reposed and enjoyed the
night scenes.
The speed of the train created a breeze which cooled the hot June night;
and, there being little dust along the road bed, not to mention the fact
that the smoke from the engine was blown back on the other side of the
train, added greatly to the exhilarating delight of the trip.
Julie had a secret mission to perform during this summer’s outing, but
she had taken no one into her confidence, not even the Captain, nor her
twin-sister Betty. As she rested in a sitting position in the berth, she
smiled as she thought of how she had to maneuver since leaving Elmertown
on Sunday morning.
“But I did it and no one is the wiser,” murmured Julie to herself. “This
ought to be a fine opportunity to write my impressions of Chicago and
the railroad journey going west.”
Consequently the girl turned on the small electric light in the berth,
and got out a pad of paper and a fountain pen. In a few moments she was
scribbling away as if for dear life. She wrote and wrote exactly as
though the flowing of the ink from her fountain pen caused an automatic
flow of ideas from her brain down to and through her fingers which
guided the pen.
After an hour’s steady writing and the rewriting of certain portions of
the script, Julie sighed with relief.
“There! Another day’s work reeled off for the _Elmertown Record_. I
wonder what Daddy will say when he reads the story of our daily doings
in his own home paper?”
So that was Julie’s secret! One way she had of reaching the mothers of
those scouts who were left behind, to tell them of the wonderful
opportunities they had caused their daughters to miss; at the same time
Julie was earning money—real money—for these contributions to the local
newspaper.
Mr. Vernon was waiting for the train when it pulled into the station at
Kansas City. His welcome was vociferous from the girls, hearty from Mr.
Gilroy, and happy from his wife.
“Well, Gilly, did you fix up the stop-over privileges on your tickets?”
asked Mr. Vernon as they all stood on the platform of the station.
“Yes, I arranged it so that we have all day in Kansas City and leave on
the 10.20 to-night for the west. Did you wire Tally the change of time
when we would arrive at La Junta?”
“Yes, and he wired back that he’d be there on time.”
All that day was spent in seeing the city, and at night the scouts took
the train and, after traveling all night and the following morning,
arrived in La Junta at one o’clock.
There would be no time to lose at the station, hence both Mr. Gilroy and
Mr. Vernon got off to seek Tally and his outfits. In a few moments they
caught sight of the Indian and helped him to board the train. The two
men assisted Tally in carrying the huge packs to the Pullman, and there
the girls eagerly welcomed him.
“Oh, Tally, how do you do?” cried the scouts who had been with the
Indian the previous summer.
“Me pooly well,” grinned Tally, pulling off his cap and bobbing his head
many times.
Mrs. Vernon, approaching, extended her hand and spoke cordially to the
guide, who was devoted to her. With Tally’s advent came also the bulky
bundles, but by that usual persuasive power which operates with public
servants Mr. Gilroy induced the Pullman porter to stow away the outfit
during the remainder of the trip.
The tents, cook-stove, utensils and harness were to be purchased in
Trinidad, the junction where Mr. Gilroy planned to leave the train and
take to the trail.
Soon after they started southward for the Enchanted Lands Mr. Gilroy
began to catechize.
“I see you obeyed my orders to travel light, but I want to know just
what you brought. I may have to supplement the baggage at Trinidad.”
Mrs. Vernon enumerated: “We each have a khaki suit; a pure wool suit;
waterproof coats; cowboy’s slickers; several pairs of wool golf
stockings; three changes of wool underwear—one light weight, two pairs
heavy weight; one pair knee-length rubber boots; one pair scout hiking
shoes, and one pair riding boots. Then we have a few minor items such as
toothbrushes, combs, etcetera.”
As the Captain read from a paper, Mr. Gilroy checked up the items on a
memorandum he had taken from his pocket.
“I see where you’ll need more shoes, Captain. Once we start on the trail
it will be difficult to get the kind I want the scouts to have this
summer. We will try and buy them in Trinidad. Otherwise I shall have to
telephone to Denver and have a sport-shop send them to Santa Fé, where
we can get them from the express-office.”
“What special kind do you want, Gilly?” asked Mr. Vernon, who had been
listening to the conversation.
“Tally says elk-skin boots never shrink when wet, nor do they harden as
they dry. They have broad extension soles which keep the stirrups from
rubbing against the sides of the foot. These soles, made partly of cork,
give a spring and lightness to the hiker, and are thick enough to
protect the soles of the feet from being bruised from the sharp
projections of the rocks. We figure that a pair of these high boots will
last throughout the trip if ordinary care is given them.
“Tally ought to be a competent judge of elk-skin,” returned Mr. Vernon.
“If you tried to get them in New York, the chances are you’d get a
clever imitation which would soak up into a pulp the first time the
girls waded through a stream.”
“That’s why I said nothing about these boots in my letter to the scouts.
I wanted to buy them out here where I knew we should find the genuine
article,” explained Mr. Gilroy.
During this conversation the scouts had been entertaining Tally with the
story of all they had accomplished in their scout work since last he saw
them.
Then Tally began a recital of his thrilling experiences through the
hunting season in the mountains, while pursuing his usual occupation of
trapping and hunting. He had narrated but the first part of these
adventures when Mr. Gilroy called to him.
“Say, Tally! what about the horses and packburros? Will your dealer in
Denver have them waiting for us at Trinidad, as I ordered?”
“No, Boss; he say me hav’ card to fren’ in Santa Fé who have fine hoss,”
replied Tally, showing Mr. Gilroy the note of introduction.
“Great Scott! We want the mounts when we arrive in Trinidad! I have
planned to ride from there over the Raton Mountain, then follow along
the Cimarron River, through the Cimarron Canyon as far as Springer. At
Springer we can take the train to Las Vegas. From there I plan to ride
to the Pecos. So, you see, we’ve got to have horses at Trinidad, Tally.”
“Leaf him to me. Some way we get him fur you all,” promised Tally
confidently. And so it was left.
Nothing of importance occurred during the trainride to Trinidad, though
the wonderful scenery of Colorado caused constant “oh’s” and “ah’s,” or
calls of “look at that” and “come here and see this” from the scouts.
Arriving at Trinidad with his party, Mr. Gilroy despatched Tally at once
to hunt up suitable mounts and burros for the trail he had outlined.
While the guide went upon this quest, the touring party sought for the
desired elk-skin boots.
“Looks as if you’d have to wire to Denver for them,” suggested Mr.
Vernon, as one shop after another was canvassed without success for the
desired boots.
This shopping excursion was very interesting to the scouts; they would
stop to admire or inspect the displays in the stores, or watch with
curiosity any unusual sight on the streets. As all these diversions took
time, it was several hours before Mr. Gilroy turned back to The
Cardenas, the hotel where they had registered.
“As soon as we get there, I’ll have to get in a call on the long
distance ’phone and order those boots from Denver,” Mr. Gilroy was
saying to the girls, when Tally ran up to them.
“Say, Boss; me hope you no got shoes, eh?” exclaimed he, anxiously.
“No such luck, Tally. Why ask?” responded Mr. Gilroy.
“Me fin’ sure Indian what mak’ him fine! One Indian keep hoss-farm down
Raton Mountain way, an’ he take me to house where fam’ly all mek’ fine
shoe. Plenty elk-skin you fin’ dere. So me run back, mebbe you no buy in
store, eh?”
“That’s good news, Tally. Lead on, and we’ll follow gladly,” declared
Mr. Gilroy, with a relieved sigh.
“What about the horses, Tally,” said Mr. Vernon, as they started down
the side street.
“Indian promees he fetch righda-way to Trin’dad. He hully off ’fore me
all tru spick wid heem. Mebbe he not hear me want _tree_ pack burros.”
“Well, let’s hope he can provide us with enough to give us each one
horse,” added Joan.
“Otherwise we might have to leave Gilly and the Vernons behind,” laughed
Julie.
“He say he got plenty fine mule. You no want hoss in Mex’co mountains.
Onny sure-foot mule an’ burro,” explained Tally.
“Tally, when does this ‘righda-way’ mean,” asked Mrs. Vernon, smiling at
the guide.
“Oh, he hully back to fahm what sit down Gray Mine road; ’en he tie rope
along mule an’ hep ’em to Trin’dad,” explained Tally, earnestly.
“When—to-night, or to-morrow, Tally?” repeated Mr. Vernon.
“Mebbe, t’nighd; mebbe, t’mollow,” was Tally’s reply.
At one extreme end of the town the scouts found several Indian families
living in small adobe houses. Each family had a patch of ground highly
cultivated, and each made a living by basket-weaving, bead-embroidery,
and moccasins. One family, the one Tally had found, made elk-skin boots.
These were all sewed by hand and were the softest, most comfortable
things possible to imagine. The sizes were not as true as they might
have been had the pattern been cut in a shoe-factory, but they made up
in style and ease that which they lacked in accurate measurement.
“Ah! I only hope the fellow has enough to fit each one of us with a pair
of these,” whispered Mr. Gilroy in the Captain’s ear.
“I believe I’d buy two pair for myself, if there are any to spare,” said
Mr. Vernon, after examining the quality.
“He mek moocha boot for shop in Santa Fé, an’ way back Denver,” was
Tally’s interpretation of the old Indian’s speech.
“Ask him how many he’s got on hand, Tally,” said Mr. Gilroy.
Tally turned to the little family group that stood at one side of the
low-ceiled room listening to and watching the Eastern people. When Tally
asked them Mr. Gilroy’s question, the old man shoved one of the young
squaws out of the room, at the same time jabbering some lingo to her. In
a few minutes she returned dragging a heavy packing-case at her heels.
In this box were more than a dozen pairs of boots of different sizes.
“Where shall we sit to try them on?” asked Mrs. Vernon, seeing there
were no chairs in the hut.
“On the floor, where the host sits to work or entertain,” laughed Julie.
Meantime Tally had been busy with the foot-wear, and now handed out
pairs of the boots that he thought would fit the various members in his
party. Thus, in half an hour’s time, each one was provided with a pair
of the boots. The men each took two pair, and then insisted that Tally
select a pair for himself. He protested.
“But our guide is more important than our outfits. Keeping you
comfortably shod is an asset for the season,” declared Mrs. Vernon.
Then the girls began to argue with him, till finally, holding aloft both
hands in mimic surrender, Tally accepted the gift.
“Now, how much do we owe your new acquaintance, Tally?” asked Mr.
Vernon, taking a roll of bills from his pocket.
Tally asked the Indian, but that salesman shook his head and replied in
native speech.
“He say he not know onny whad he get f’om agent. Mebbe you not lak pay
so mooch,” explained Tally.
“How much is that a pair?” asked Mr. Gilroy.
Tally interpreted again and told his employer the price.
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Mr. Gilroy, in astonishment. “Tell him to trot
out another case of these same boots, Tally. The scouts will each take
two pair at that price, and we men will take three each.”
But Mr. Gilroy’s greed to buy out the stock at bargain prices was
foiled. There were enough small sizes to supply the scouts each with two
pairs, but no extra ones for the men.
Mr. Vernon gave the man an extra ten dollar bill for his honesty in the
deal, and the old squaw immediately suggested something to Tally.
“She say you want plenty moccasins!”
“We haven’t any!” declared the Captain and the scouts in one breath.
“You’ll need them, on cold nights,” said Mr. Gilroy.
“Yes, I know; but we were going to buy them in Denver,” explained Mrs.
Vernon.
“Gude bis’niz you diden’,” chuckled Tally. “Now you buy fine moccasin
fer same ten dollah money.”
The squaw ran away and in a short time returned with her skirt filled
with exquisitely beaded pairs in all sizes.
“Too beautiful to wear in the wilderness,” sighed Julie, as she handled
a pair with the toes a solid mass of bead-work.
When the “Whites” left that tiny home they left great wealth behind, for
they had each added two pairs of moccasins, thick-skinned and simply
made, to their outfits, and had purchased the elaborate ones to send
home to those scouts who had not come west.
CHAPTER THREE
ON THE OLD SANTA FÉ TRAIL
True to instinct, the Indian horse-trader came into Trinidad early the
next morning, driving, coaxing, and kicking a string of sleek Mexican
ponies. Then he sent word to the scout-party at the hotel that he was
ready to bargain with the gentlemen.
“Tally, you’ve got to stand by us in this lottery, because we want to
carry off the Grand Prize, you know,” laughed Mr. Vernon, when he heard
the verbal message.
“He no get dead beat f’om my Boss—not if Tally know he’em,” vowed the
guide, fervently. Mr. Vernon and Mr. Gilroy laughed heartily at the
Indian’s ambiguous remark, and Tally, not sure of that word “lottery,”
or “Grand Prize,” laughed, too.
But the trader was not as tricky as his profession painted him. In fact,
Tally managed to secure most excellent terms for his Boss. Mr. Gilroy
contracted with the man for the nine ponies and three burros while in
New Mexico or Arizona at the rate of $20-$30 each per month. This was
more than the rental of the burros was worth, but the owner agreed to
pay freight all the way from Gallup, which is in the western part of New
Mexico, or from Flagstaff or Williams in Arizona, to reclaim his
property. Should Mr. Gilroy decide to rent the animals for a fraction of
a month thereafter he would only pay for the actual time he had the
beasts in use.
“Well!” declared Mr. Vernon, when everything had been satisfactorily
settled, and they were free to start from Trinidad whenever they
pleased, “that is the first honest horse-dealer I ever met, or heard
of.”
“He’em N’ Mex’co injun, da’s why,” said Tally.
“How about those of Arizona?” laughed Mr. Gilroy.
“Oh, he’em alla good. Navajo, Zuñi, Hopi—alle heer mos’ good,” explained
Tally, conscientiously.
Mr. Vernon remembered an important item as the three men returned to the
hotel where the scouts were eagerly waiting to hear the result of the
horse-deal.
“The harness and saddle-bags for those mules and burros would have cost
us more than we’re going to pay in rent,” said he to Mr. Gilroy.
“That’s what I figured when he named his price. We won’t need mounts nor
harness once we are through the outing. Last summer we had to sell the
horses and fittings for a song, when we got back to Estes Park. This
business arrangement is better all-round for us, and relieves us of any
concern when we are through with the animals.
“How about accidents to one of them?” asked Mr. Vernon.
“The trader knows little about insuring his ponies, but I shall do that
before we leave Trinidad.”
Hence Mr. Gilroy sought out an insurance agent, and had him insure not
only the ponies and the burros for three months against injury and
death, but the harness, as well, was insured against loss and damage.
These papers were sent to the Indian to keep in case he had to claim
damages during the period of insurance.
That evening Tally reported that he and his stores were ready for an
early morning start. The scouts had secured the various items they
needed for the outing, and the two men said they were ready at any time.
The night-clerk in the hotel was told to call the tourists at four the
next morning, as they were eager to get away.
Tally had purchased the tents and camp equipment in Trinidad, and had
the ponies saddled and waiting just outside the town proper; the three
little burros, well-laden, looked more like ants carrying elephants than
anything able to crawl up peaks and down perpendicular ravines. As
before, when visiting the Rockies, the girls felt sorry for the little
pack animals that appeared too slender and weak to stand any strain or
fatigue. And, as before, Tally laughed at their misplaced sympathies.
Having had a hearty breakfast with which to start the day, the scouts
were eager for the adventures before them. The horses had the regulation
western saddles and the girls, wearing sensible clothing for
riding—loose flannel shirts, knickerbockers, and high boots—rode
cross-saddle.
Tally led off along the road that followed the railroad to Raton
Mountain; Julie and Joan riding at each side of him while plying him
with questions.
“Tally, do you know the names of our ponies and the burros?” asked
Julie.
“Um-m-m, sure, Mees Jule,” was the guide’s reply, after a short
hesitation.
“Tally! what does that ‘um-m-m’ mean?” demanded Julie, suspiciously.
“Oh, heem! dat mean me try rememmer alla dem names. Nine, ten, ’lefen,
twelf names alla hard,” returned the Indian, innocent of face, but ready
to burst out laughing.
“Tell me the name of mine, and of the three burros, and I won’t bother
you about the others,” said Julie.
“Lem’me see!” began Tally, meditatively. Then he said:
“Oh, yess! me rememmer now. Dat pony you ride have white spot on face,
so my fren’ name him White Star. Dat firs’ burro what carry tents, he
call Slow Poke. Anudder what have cook-stove an’ deeshes he call Spark.
Dat las’ burro is call Nuttin—short fer Good-fer-nuttin’, you see?”
Joan, watching Tally’s expression, tittered aloud now, and the guide
turned to see if she suspected him of guile. She glanced away quickly
and looked around over her shoulder at the cavalcade behind. When she
could control her voice she spoke.
“And what do you call my pony, and your own, Tally?”
“You’se, Miss Jo, iss call Sweetie; an’ my mule iss name Stick. He’em
ack lak’a block of wood, see?” explained Tally, endeavoring to assure
Joan of the truth of his statements.
Both the girls laughed merrily.
“Then Jo’s pony must taste like sugar,” declared Julie, “though,
goodness knows, I’ve heard that mule-steak is awful!”
“Um-m-m! So dey say,” agreed Tally.
At this moment Mr. Gilroy urged his pony forward to join the guide. Mr.
Vernon had told him something he had heard from a man in Kansas City.
“Tally, do you know whether we can get a good view from the peak of
Raton Mountain? Some one told Mr. Vernon it wasn’t worth the climb. I
believed the Old Santa Fé Trail had been converted to a sky-line drive
that runs along the crest of Raton Range for twenty-six miles.”
“Some on he’em man not know better. Mebbe he’em eyes not gude, eh?”
chuckled Tally. “Fines’ view in west we get f’om Raton Crest.”
“If you say it’s worth while we’ll go on, because we’ve got all summer
before us,” returned Mr. Gilroy.
They followed the Old Santa Fé Trail for hours, then, being hungry, they
chose the camp-site for this their first meal out in the open that
season. Julie stood and gazed at the imposing peaks before her.
“Well, Gilly, I really wouldn’t have known we were out of Colorado, or
away from the peaks north of Estes Park. ‘They all look alike to me.’”
Julie sang the last words to the rag-time song.
“You won’t say that when you go farther south in New Mexico or Arizona,”
said Mr. Gilroy.
“It can’t be said that we are over the border of the state-line yet,”
added Mr. Vernon. “I may be in New Mexico and you in Colorado. Perhaps
that is why you can’t see the difference in the scenery.” Shortly after
the amateur mountaineers had prepared to cook the dinner they saw, to
their surprise, a Forest Ranger coming over the trail in the direction
of their camp.
“Good-day, friends,” was the pleasant greeting from the tall young man
in government uniform.
“Good-morning, sir,” responded Mr. Gilroy, acting as speaker for the
group. “I trust we are not breaking the law by camping here?”
“Oh, no! I am on my way up the old trail, but I saw you selecting a
site, and I thought I’d be neighborly and tell you where to hook a few
good fish for dinner.”
“Now that’s mighty good of you! And in return for your favor maybe
you’ll stop and sup with us,” was Mr. Gilroy’s hearty response.
“I’d like to right well, but I am taking a vacation which is granted me
for the purpose of attending to an important investigation for the
Government. It is no secret, therefore I have no hesitation in telling
you that it concerns the future of our Pueblo Indians. I am to meet a
man at Springer who wishes me to give him valuable information which I
am fortunate to have from personal acquaintance with the different
pueblos in New Mexico,” explained the young man frankly.
“How very interesting it would be to have your company with us on this
ride to Springer, for that is the very place we plan to make before
taking the train again,” said Mr. Vernon.
“Have you any idea of the distance, and the riding this trail will mean
for the young ladies?” asked the Ranger in amazement.
“We became acquainted with such trails last summer in the Rockies,”
replied Mr. Gilroy. Then he told the young man of all the trails the
girl scouts had followed in his company and with Tally to guide them. He
spoke of the grizzly which was shot, of the little bear cubs sent to the
zoo in the east, of the canoe trips, and the other wonderful
experiences they had shared in common, and when he had ended his story
the Ranger smiled.
“I reckon you are immune from back-sliding when a night is dark, or when
the sun blazes down on the trail,” said he.
“You have not yet said whether you will join our party,” said Mr.
Vernon, who had taken a sudden fancy to the young fellow.
“You ought to know who I am first. I’m Tom Sanderson, a graduate in the
class of engineering at the University of Albuquerque; I accepted the
post of Forest Ranger for the summer, but I hope to start my real job in
the Fall.”
“Where are you located on forest duty?” asked Mr. Gilroy.
“I have been on the Cimarron Range for a time, now I am to attend to
this Pueblo business, and then go up to Panchuelo and supervise the
Rangers there who will have to construct a few bridges,” explained the
Ranger.
“That’s where we’re bound for. We shall follow this trail over the
mountain and go down through the Cimarron Valley as far as Springer,
then we had expected to take the train to Las Vegas, and from there go
up the Pecos Valley to the mountains,” said Mr. Gilroy.