child of Old Spain adopted by United States. She not used to ’Merican
ways, so she keep Spanish customs.”
“We haven’t visited your city yet, Padre, but I can judge from the
general view we had, and from this unique mission ranch, that we shall
be intensely interested in all we see and hear at Santa Fé,” remarked
the Captain.
“That old Governor Palace see many tragedy, many melodrama acted—many by
savages, many by Mexican rulers, such tales I could tell—ah!” The Padre
sighed and crossed himself devoutly.
“One tale what mek gr-rand play for history picture, all about Spanish
lady who have seester what marry officer of Viceroy. Thees officer no
good. He beat wife, he take all her gold what is dower, he kill her with
his brutal way. Then seester come to Old Palace, demand justice, but
Viceroy he laugh. What nex’? Do lady sit an’ cry? No, _No_! she get
horse, tek her money, ride all long trail to Mexico City and tell big
men of King. Then she mek justice come to Santa Fé, and every one feel
better for leetle time.
“Oh, ye’es! Many, many such tragedy, many drama, what go on in Old
Palace where history make the West,” repeated the Padre, his weak black
eyes gazing at the famous old building which was just visible beyond the
houses in the foreground.
“You know, signoras, our old Santa Fé trail one of mos’ famous in world
history. Picture, if you please, the Fonda where American caravans come
to exchange goods. Near, too near, the Fonda stand the customs and jail
building. Walls in those days were build five to six feet through of
solid adobe. Walls then have to be refuge for men. In the prison wall
you go see bullet holes, where the gun what shoot at prisoner not kill
him. The man who have charge of Fonda Exchange, he run everything. If he
say to trader ‘$100 duty,’ then trader pay, or go to jail nex’ door.
Mebbe he come out some day, mebbe he get bullet in cell—in brain cell,”
laughed the toothless old Padre, showing he appreciated a sense of
humor.
“You see, Signoras, he mus’ alius pay duty. Why not? If he no pay, he go
to prison an’ somebody tak all his goods for cost of storage. Mebbe he
never come out! So he pay—see?” the Padre shrugged his shoulders, and
the scouts saw only too well.
“Can you shut your eyes, Signoras, as I can, and see a caravan topping
yon ridge. I see white-tented wagons with great heavy wheels, drawn by
yokes of oxen—five, six yokes hitch tandem, with extra mule-teams tie
behind wagon to help out in need. I hear driver swear and shout,
‘stretch out there!’—then he lash a bull-whip what reach first yoke and
all along backs of yokes behind leader, like a serpent covering slimy
trail to hole in groun’. Every caravan have scout out-riders and a
Capitaine what command; and Capitaine have twoscore wagons to look
after. That trip take forty-fifty days to mak over desert and dune. It
were no fun to trek across Indian land those days, where Ute Warriors,
or Comanche savages, lay wait to attack and scalp men, then steal beasts
and burdens—Ye’es, I see it all!” Even so, the scouts, too, saw the
mirage which the Padre painted in such telling words.
“I can see the Old Palace when the grandees have a ball, or a reception.
Such costumes I never see in Madrid, or Granada, or other cities of
Spain. I see them promenade in silks, and velvets, and bejeweled from
crown to ankle. I have seen all such drop to their knees when I have
ring vesper bell. All, all, are gone long ago, yet Padre Miguel
remains.”
The Padre sat humped in his chair, his thin hands clasped laxly between
his knees. The scouts were afraid to speak lest they break the spell
woven by the old man. Finally the priest sighed, then smiled and looked
up.
“You have viseet the pueblo cities of Jemez and Pecos and Taos—yess!”
asked he of Mrs. Vernon.
“No, Padre, only Pecos Cañon, and up to Taos Mountain,” returned the
Captain.
“Ha! you must sure see Jemez, my fren’s. Such wise men have these Pueblo
Indians! No knave there, but hones’, fine rulers. Now some men what play
politics, he try mek all pueblo dwellers bankrupt so they move out and
leave claims to schemers who want such land for money—ah, ye’es—Padre
Miguel know how money make demon of white man!”
“We have a young Ranger in our party who is here with a man from
Chicago—they are about to investigate the bare facts of the situation
regarding this Bursum Bill,” remarked Mrs. Vernon.
“Ye’es! I like to meet him, to tell him much I know ’bout such
business,” said the priest, eagerly. “’Mericans must not let such work
go on, or the day will come when the land about to be stolen from the
Indians will be haunted even as Isleta is—it is protected in times of
danger by the holy friar. You hear of him?” said the priest
“No, what is it, Padre?” returned Mrs. Vernon.
“Every fife-ten year the friar come back to warn his peepul what best to
do. Sometimes the river floods coming bad, and always he warn his flock
in time for them to escape. When we tell unbelievers this they laugh.
However, a number of ’Mericans get permit a few years back, and dig up
grave where holy father’s body rest. They find the heavy log coffin and
friar’s earth-body jus’ so good as when his spirit leave it. All I say
is truth, ’cause I am Padre here, and cannot mistell you this.”
Further reminiscences were impossible, because a number of men were seen
coming up the foot-path to the piazza.
“Well, scouts, how did you pass the hour I left you to your resources?”
called the hearty voice of Mr. Gilroy, as he approached.
“We never thought of you once,” laughed Joan.
“That shows how much we missed you,” added Julie.
“If I was a fine young man in green uniform I suppose I’d have all the
girls sighing for me,” retorted Mr. Gilroy.
That evening, after supper, Sanderson and Burt devoted their time and
attention to Padre Miguel and the important information about the
Pueblos which he gave them. The scouts gathered around and listened for
a time, then, finding that Adair and Chase were equally interested in
the Padre’s tales, they said good-night and went to bed.
“You know, Gilly,” said Mr. Vernon, in an undertone that night, “I think
we’ll let the horses eat their heads off here, where the fodder is the
cheapest thing we can buy, while we hire a touring-car to visit the
places about Santa Fé. We’ll really save money, and in the end, give us
more time to see the really wonderful places when we get to them,
instead of using the time on the road if we use horses,” said Mr.
Vernon.
“Do you know, Verny, I was thinking the same thing to-day, when I saw
the numerous cars go through the city on the way to points of interest
in New Mexico. I was half wishing we had left the horses out of the plan
for this summer and had chosen the automobile instead,” remarked Mr.
Gilroy.
“Don’t regret having decided on horses, Gilly; we can never go in a car
where the four sure feet of mountain-climbing horses can carry us,”
declared Mr. Vernon, emphatically. “But now, I really believe we can do
better by using a machine to cover these long trips, such as forty to
sixty miles a day. In this way we need not miss a single thing around
Santa Fé, and still be on hand in order to meet the other girl scouts
the first of August.”
“That is, if they are allowed to come out here,” added Mr. Gilroy,
doubtfully.
“I’m sure of their joining us later. I wrote letters to their fathers
and expressed myself quite plainly about the way their daughters were
being deprived of traveling and seeing what most young ladies would give
their hats to see. But I haven’t mentioned my letters to the Missus, or
the girls here, understand?”
Mr. Gilroy chuckled. Yes, he understood perfectly!
“Well, I’ll authorize you to go hunt up two large enough cars early
to-morrow morning, to accommodate our party. Then we can compare notes
in a few days, and see if we cover the field better than with horses,”
agreed Mr. Gilroy.
“All right—done!” exclaimed Mr. Vernon, as they got up and started for
their respective rooms to sleep.
At breakfast the following morning, the plan of securing two automobiles
to drive to the points of interest within a radius of Santa Fé was
heartily approved by every one in the party.
“Let me do the bargaining for you,” said the Ranger. “Every one in the
town knows me by sight, and I am sure I will be able to secure better
rates.”
“All right,” agreed Mr. Gilroy; “glad to get rid of the trouble.”
“We’ll go with you, Sandy,” offered Burt, including Adair and Chase in
his glance.
For a few hours that morning, therefore, the scouts were left to amuse
themselves. Sandy had promised to get back with the cars, if they should
find any, before noon. The host of the ranch house had promised to look
after the horses and burros whenever the owners should be absent. Fodder
was cheap and the weather was fine, consequently there was no reason why
the animals should not fare well.
While the young men were absent on their search for two comfortable cars
the two elder men with the scouts were planning various excursions to
the points of interest around Santa Fé. One of these excursions would
follow the trail past Buckman, taking in the Water and Ancho Cañons, and
so on to the Bandelier National Monument. On this route they would
continue to the Frijoles Cañon, thence to the Painted Cave, and further
down the trail visit Cañon de Cochita; the next point of interest would
be a visit to the San Felipe Indian Reservation, and then trail eastward
to the Tiffany Turquoise Mines and the San Marquis Pueblo Ruins.
Within an hour after leaving the ranch house, Sandy and his friends
returned in two comfortable touring cars. The camping outfits were
stowed away, and a supply of food packed in hampers; then having said
good-by to the host, the scout-party got into the two cars and drove
away. Sandy acted as chauffeur in the car where Julie, Hester, Mr.
Gilroy and Mr. Chase were seated. Tally drove the car in which were the
Captain and Mr. Vernon, Betty and Joan, Mr. Burt and Mr. Adair. The
latter car being a seven passenger model, while the former was a five
passenger car.
CHAPTER TWELVE
JULIE’S TÊTE-À-TÊTE
The distance to the Jemez Forests was about twenty miles over sandy
roads. The trail led across the Rio Grande and then climbed up and up.
Finally it became apparent that, later, the autos would have to be
parked if the scouts wished to visit the “City of the Dead” as they had
outlined, so the cars stopped while all planned.
“Now what? Walk up that awful trail and haul the kitchen on our backs?”
cried Julie, frowning up at the great layers of shelf which seemed to
reach to the heavens.
“No,” giggled Joan, “we’ll leave the ‘kitchen sink’ in the car, but take
everything else.”
“We can drive up much farther than this,” said Mr. Vernon. “The trail
winds and winds and at last brings us to the mesa where we will lunch.
There we will leave Tally to hunt up a suitable cave for his afternoon
siesta, while we climb to the sky.”
Finally the cars came out upon a high mesa—perhaps, thousand of acres of
park, all shaded by yellow pine.
Upon this wonderful tableland the scouts had lunch and then went on to
Frijoles Cañon. When, finally, they came to the end of a road—they had
arrived!
After a time the visitors sighed, and, having broken the spell of awe,
the scouts found their tongues.
“Gracious! what a jumping-off place,” exclaimed Julie, as she gazed at
the two fearful precipices, the sides all pierced with windows and
arched doorways and projecting balconies.
These dwellings, tier upon tier of them, were reached by ladders, and
some by steps cut in the stone. It was once a populous city with the
main street over twelve miles long.
“Think of all the citizens living in this queer place!” exclaimed the
Captain. “Where do you suppose they went after they left here.”
“That’s the question every one asks, and no one has yet answered,”
returned Mr. Gilroy. “But come, let’s go down and visit.”
The scouts visited the sacred chamber where the ancients worshiped the
god of fire and the serpent-guardian of the water-springs. They took
snapshots of the stone circle which the great colony used for its
dances. They went in cave after cave, each one having a new interest to
visitors, and coming out again, wondered at the marvelous view forever
spread out before the front doors of these cliff dwellers of ancient
days.
That day the scouts found several flowers which have not been classified
by botanists. They saw the blood-red cactus that grows high up on the
black rocks; the beautiful mountain pink; the dwarfed field daisy; and
others without names, although they were gathered to be pressed for use
in the girls’ books. It was late that night when the party motored into
Santa Fé, but it was a satisfied party.
A week of visiting such marvelous places as these girls never dreamed
were on earth passed quickly. They had gone to different prominent
pueblos within easy motoring distance of Santa Fé; they had visited the
Tiffany Turquoise Mine; they wondered at the old Bonanza; they hunted
for bits of gold in the Ortiz placers; and they collected specimen of
flowers, minerals, insects and other curios for their scout files at
home. Then they took two days to go to the ancient Aztec City, to Chaco
Cañon, and other pueblo ruins in San Juan county.
“The last trip of all, I have kept as the best,” remarked Mr. Gilroy at
the end of the week’s rental of the automobiles. “But we will leave
Santa Fé behind us when we start out on this jaunt to the west: I am
speaking of a visit to the Enchanted Mesa, to Laguna and Acoma.”
“It’s going to be no joke to reach Acoma, Gilly,” said Mr. Vernon, “but
we have plenty of time, and that is one asset in seeing these strange
places.”
“When do we start from here, Gilly?” asked Joan, eagerly.
“Well, that depends. I expected to meet a few friends in Santa Fé
to-morrow, and I shall have to wait for them. They should have been here
to-day, but I hear they were delayed in Denver by one of the party who
had important business to attend to in that city. To-morrow they will
surely meet me, then I shall be free to go west with you.”
Not one of the scouts suspected who the friends might be, so they took
it for granted that Gilly had business men to meet; but they planned
with Mrs. Vernon what to do in the morning, while Mr. Gilroy met his
friends from Denver.
To the delight of the girls, the four young men and Mr. Vernon were at
breakfast in the morning, when they entered the dining-room. The Ranger
instantly sprang up and welcomed the party.
“I suppose you are all on the _qui vive_ this morning, eh?” asked Mr.
Burt, smilingly.
Mrs. Vernon hurriedly endeavored to signal him to keep the secret, but
the newspaper man did not see.
“We’re trying to kill a morning with nothing to do,” laughed Julie.
“Oh! then you are not going to the station to meet the train that will
bring your chums?” was Mr. Burt’s surprised query.
“To meet whom?” demanded the scouts.
Mr. Burt glanced from one to the other, and finally met the glance from
Mr. Vernon. Too late, he realized that the plan had been to take these
four scouts by surprise.
Julie laughed uproariously, then tried to say: “Isn’t it always thus
when so many know of the surprise party? There’s bound to be one who
lets the cat out of the bag.”
By this time the other girls began to realize what it all meant and then
there was a great hullabaloo.
“Hurry now, and we will go after Gilly to accompany him to the station,”
laughed Mrs. Vernon. No need for such advice, however, as the scouts
were well-nigh choking themselves in their haste to eat and be off.
As the time on the automobiles would not expire till one o’clock that
day, the scouts inveigled the men to drive them to the railroad station.
Such a scene when the train came in! Anne, Judith and Amy jumped off
into outstretched arms, and were welcomed by wagging tongues all talking
and questioning at once. No one heard or understood a word any one else
was saying, but that made no difference to these scouts!
Then the newcomers had to tell in detail how it was possible to persuade
Mrs. Ward to let Amy leave home, and many a merry peal of laughter
echoed in the ancient streets of Santa Fé as the scouts, all wedged into
the automobile, were driven out to the little hotel.
“To tell the truth, it was Julie’s graphic articles in the _Elmertown
Record_ that changed Mrs. Ward’s opinion of the west. Every one said it
was so wonderful for the girls to have such an opportunity that she felt
ashamed of herself,” explained Anne Bailey.
Then the secret of Julie’s journalism came out and her friends applauded
loudly when they heard of her success. After a good dinner, shortly
before noon, Tally led the horses to the piazza, and Mr. Gilroy said it
was time to be off on the trail to the westward. Adair and Chase
expected to ride the trail to Las Vegas, but changed their minds when
they heard Sandy and Burt plan.
“How about horses for the three girls,” asked Joan, as they all started
for the door.
“All ready! Tally had orders long ago, and they arrived this morning,”
said Mr. Vernon.
To the great satisfaction of the scouts it was now learned that the four
young men had decided to ride with them through the marvelous country
west of Santa Fé, where the Zuñi Indians and all the remarkable pueblos
would be found.
The entire party rode along the Rio Grande trail as far as Albuquerque,
camping in the wayside woods, or stopping at the towns on the way, as
best suited their inclinations.
Albuquerque proved to be just the opposite of Santa Fé. There the very
air seemed filled with mysterious spirits of the ancients; here in
Albuquerque, with its strictly up-to-date activities, the girls felt as
though they were back east. The buildings of the University of New
Mexico, where Sanderson had been graduated that year, situated upon a
plateau more than two hundred feet above the city, was one of the places
to be visited by the tourists. The view from that height is beautiful,
and the impressions of the city when seen from here, is lasting.
The scouts stopped at the Alvarado Hotel, a luxurious place with every
modern convenience, though its style of architecture is Old Spanish
Mission. From its verandas the girls could see the peaks of New Mexico
as they sent up their snowy tips to the azure sky.
Being the season when tourists crowded the city, the scouts found things
very lively with dances and plays and drives day and night. They went to
the Musee, to the fashionable restaurants, and forgot they were in the
land of the pueblos.
“Lucky we each packed a decent gown for such an occasion,” remarked
Julie, as they all sat in the brilliant dining-room of the Alvarado and
watched the well-dressed guests, some of whom were dancing to the music
of the palm-screened orchestra.
During the trailing from Santa Fé, Sandy had devoted so much time to
the Pueblo matter and Burt’s articles that Julie believed him to have
been merely flirting with her before this, so now she snubbed him. But
the Ranger never thought of flirting. He was genuinely attracted by the
pretty, intelligent scout. With him, however, duty came before pleasure,
and he had considered it his duty to attend to the various missions upon
which he had been sent in company with Burt. Hence he had not indulged
his fancy as he would have liked. Now that he had accomplished most of
the work of escorting the newspaper man to the pueblos and assisting him
in getting facts first-hand from the Indian chiefs, he relaxed the
tension as he pictured the pleasure before him. He never dreamed that a
girl might become piqued at being left without a word or glance from
him, while he was occupied with getting statistics. But he was to learn
that feminine demands are not to be ignored if the admirer wishes to be
popular.
To the three scouts who had recently arrived, everything was new and
novel, and the Ranger, to them, seemed very handsome and agreeable. They
therefore chided Julie for her manner towards him, because it was
plainly to be seen that he cared nothing for any one in the party but
her.
“Go entertain him yourself, why don’t you?” she would retort. “I’m busy
getting points on journalism from Mr. Burt.”
But this was merely an excuse, as Mr. Burt had been engaged with Mr.
Gilroy and Mr. Vernon, telling them of his hopes in securing justice for
the Indians.
It was not until the party rode into Albuquerque that Sandy said with a
sigh: “Well, my holiday ends here; I’ve got to go back to Panchuelo in a
few days.”
“Oh, really! I thought you were going to accompany Burt to Acoma,” said
Mrs. Vernon.
“No, he won’t need me there, and all the big pueblos of New Mexico have
been visited. I wish I could go with you to Acoma, however, Captain. You
know, it is said that one can make any _good_ wish when first standing
at the Enchanted Mesa, and it will instantly come to pass.”
“What would you wish, Sandy?” asked Joan, mischievously. “Maybe I can
act as proxy for you.”
“Well, you might try it,” returned the Ranger, daringly. “I wish that a
coveted friend might thaw somewhat, from the icy attitude that she
maintains towards me, before I have to say good-by. There are many
important matters I would discuss with this friend, but one has no
inspiration when the chill is so intense as to stop my circulation.”
“That’s a good wish and I’m sure it will be answered. Anyway I promise
you I shall ask it of the guardian spirits of the Mesa,” giggled Joan.
“Lots of good such a wish will do Sandy if he leaves us at Albuquerque,”
said Mr. Gilroy.
“We won’t get to the Enchanted Mesa till after we have said good-by to
the Ranger,” added Mrs. Vernon.
In spite of such innuendoes, Julie failed to “thaw” until the very last
night of Sandy’s stay in Albuquerque. It happened that there was to be a
hop at the hotel that evening, and the seven scouts had frizzed and
frilled for the occasion; consequently they appeared on the scene
looking very fresh and attractive—so thought several young college men
who had been smoking cigarettes and talking to the Ranger. Naturally he
introduced the scouts to his companions and a most enjoyable evening
followed.
If a tenderfoot in the East fancies New Mexico has a climate that is hot
enough to sizzle bacon on a rock, or induce a tourist to go to bed at
night without sheets or blanket to cover him, that one will have another
guess coming. In all the time the scouts had been in New Mexico they had
not felt any too warm, even at noon-day, in their woolen shirts and
khaki breeches. Now, at the hotel dance, they were decidedly cool in
their light dinner gowns, and evening scarfs.
As the young people, chaperoned by the Captain, moved towards the
ball-room, Sandy managed to get beside Julie and ask: “Are you not
feeling cool without a wrap?”
“I’m so icy that sensation is no longer one of my five senses,” returned
she, quickly.
“Perhaps you will thaw out after a dance with me,” suggested Sandy,
giving her a look that pleased her mightily—a look of admiration.
“I never thought dancing was part of a Ranger’s duty,” remarked she,
casually.
“Oh, but it is! When we are supposed to entertain friends—such as we now
are.”
“Who said so? I should say we were mere acquaintances, here to-day, gone
to-morrow.”
“Not so, Miss Julie! If you knew me better you’d know that I do not
believe in to-morrows. I claim the _nows_ of to-days.”
“_Now_ what can you really claim?” demanded Julie, giving him a quick
glance.
The Ranger caught it and smiled. The other members in the group had
joined Mr. Gilroy and Mr. Vernon, who were waiting at the door of the
room, and now were pairing off for the dance. As Julie and her escort
entered the room, the Ranger answered her last question very decidedly.
“You want to know what I claim _now_?—this”—and he swung her away into
the whirl of dancers without as much as asking her would she be pleased.
To Julie’s amazement this partner could dance divinely. She was
considered the most graceful dancer in Elmertown, and many times she
had contributed for charity’s sake, at bazaars, at pageants, etcetera,
the classical Greek and Oriental dances she could do so well. Therefore
she considered herself a good judge of partners.
The two had circled the room and both were enjoying themselves
immensely, when Sandy said in a low tone: “Are you thawing?”