the scout-party rode on to the last lap of the trip over the Desert. As
they rode they discussed the wonderful rugs they had seen in the making,
and the still more wonderful specimens of baskets woven by the Old
Navajos. They spoke of the beautiful filigree silver work these Indian
craftsmen make, and they admired without stint the odd pottery which is
molded, ornamented, and baked by the Indians.
Although a description of the beauties and the ever-changing colors of
the Painted Desert might give a _faint_ idea of what it is like, the
scouts felt that it would be a hard task to try to present to others
what they themselves had seen.
“Julie, how are you going to write it up for the _Record_?” asked Betty,
as they jogged along the trail and heard the girls exclaim at this or
that beauty.
“I shall not even try, Betty. It beggars all description.”
Mr. Gilroy had just come alongside in time to hear Julie’s reply, and he
laughed.
“Julie, ever read Cobb’s book on traveling de luxe to the Grand Cañon?”
asked he.
“No, Gilly; I’ve never even heard of it,” said she.
“You reminded me of it just now, when you told Betty it beggars
description. Cobb’s answer to that was, ‘Well, then, I shall not try
it.’ In your case, you’d better follow the suit of such a clever writer
and thus remain affluent in descriptions.”
Julie laughed heartily, but declared she would risk descriptive poverty
rather than be deprived of the joy of telling the folks back home all
about the adventure.
During the last few days of that trip the scouts passed the great
towering rocks of gypsum and yellow _tufa_ on the tops of which the Moki
Indians build their villages.
“Why under the sun do they select the top of the crags for their homes?”
queried Hester.
“Some say, to enable them to fight off any raiders. Only a Moki can skip
up and down those bald sides of rock as they do, and cart all supplies
up there as well,” said Mr. Gilroy.
Lo asked if the scouts wished to visit the towns. Julie had already
taken pictures of the naked children running up or down the steep
pathways, and the Captain rode over to the spring where a Moki woman was
filling a heavy water-urn before placing it upon her head to carry it up
to her home, but Mr. Gilroy decided they would move on, and perhaps
visit the last of the three villages.
“You say you go through Petrify Fores’ after you through Painted
Desert?” asked Lo.
“Yes, we plan to ride there next, and thence on to the Grand Cañon of
the Colorado. Could you remain with us as far as Flagstaff?” said Mr.
Gilroy.
“I like it, but I no go so far from my own country,” replied Lo, smiling
wisely.
His words, more than anything Lo had said or done since he accepted the
position as guide across the Desert, impressed the scouts with the fact
that for Lo there was but one world, and one country of that world—and
that was Navajo Land!
It was, therefore, with regret that the scouts, also Tally, said good-by
to Lo and watched him ride back on his lonely trail to St. Michael’s
Mission. But Lo would not consider himself lonely; he would have the
music of the desert wind, the company of stars at night, and the close
companionship of the Great Spirit to go with him on the home trail.
So eager were the scouts to reach the Grand Cañon now that they were
daily coming nearer to it, that many beauties and unusual sights on the
trail to Adamana were merely given divided attention by the girls. But
once they had reached Adamana, named after the man who had brought the
public interest to these unique forests, the scouts quite forgot the
Grand Cañon for the time being.
As the trip along the Painted Desert had been long and continued, Tally
said the horses must have a day’s rest.
“Great Scott, Tally! We bought the pack-horses for use, not for resting.
And the rented horses have rested more than they have worked. I’ll bet
a new hat your friend who owns them would have worked them much more
than we have this past month.”
“I onny say so ’cause Boss like good hoss to ride to Grand Cañon,”
argued Tally.
“If that means we lounge around Adamana and lose a whole day while the
animals are recuperating, then we’ll ride them to the Petrified Forest,
and after we come back we’ll take the train to Williams instead of
riding through the San Francisco Mountains as we had planned.”
Tally said nothing more, but saw to it that the horses were well fed and
bedded for the night. The scouts were only too thankful to rest upon
real beds once more, and not one of them objected when the Captain
proposed that they retire early in order to be up at sunrise and get a
good start for the day.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE REGION OF THE PETRIFIED FORESTS
At breakfast the following morning, Mr. Gilroy outlined the trip. “We’ll
leave here immediately after we’re through eating, and ride to the first
forest, which I’m told is only six miles away. The second forest is
three miles south and east of the first one. But Chalcedony Park, the
third forest, is about thirteen miles south and west of here, and
Rainbow Forest is another two miles in a northwesterly direction from
the third one.
“I’ve learned that the roads are fine, the grades are easy, and camping
facilities are excellent. So why leave the horses here for two or three
days to eat their old heads off while we pay for their holiday and at
the same time have to hire a team or two for the outing? No, sir! We’ll
take our camp outfit with us and give the horses plenty of time in which
to amble to the first and second forests.
“We’ll camp to-night and go on to the third forest to-morrow morning. It
is only a hop, skip and a jump from Chalcedony Park to Rainbow Forests,
so we can do that on our way back to Adamana. Now who wants to object to
my motion?” Mr. Gilroy gazed at his friends but no one opposed the
program. Instead, they all approved, and he added: “Motion made,
seconded and carried by the chairman—he being the whole thing.”
Tally had been told to stock up for a few days’ camp, and this being
done and the horses saddled, he brought them up to the front of the
Forest House and waited. But he had not long to wait.
The scouts came hurrying out while discussing with Mr. Gilroy the
interesting process that took place in order to petrify the trees to
their present state of preservation.
With a smiling good-morning to Tally the scout-party climbed into the
saddles and started on the trail; Tally, with the three pack-horses,
bringing up the rear.
As they rode, Mr. Gilroy explained the cause of the Petrified Forests.
As he had proved to be so interesting in the Rockies the previous summer
when he described the formation of the glaziers, so now he entertained
the girls with his explanations.
“Way back in the days when this earth was young, ages before the grasses
and flowers appeared, and very many aeons before the birds and beasts
were dreamed of, these grand old forest trees stood and flourished.
“The floods had not yet come, though the times were at hand. The rain
began to fall in its customary manner, therefore the trees thought
nothing of such a natural occurrence. But it kept on raining without
cessation; rather, indeed, did the downpour of water increase, and the
wise old fellows of the forest trees began to grumble and wonder ‘when,
in thunder, the bloomin’ thing would end.’” An appreciative giggle told
Mr. Gilroy that every one was attending.
“Then came a torrential emptying of the clouds, and the winds rose,
until, finally, these great monarchs of the forests were torn loose from
their roothold in the steep sides of the mountain and went crashing
down.
“Still the heavens remained open and poured out its fountains of water;
still the wind blew a gale up the deep ravines, and down from the peaks,
and more trees were snapped above the ground, or wrenched loose from
their anchorage, and all were sent upon the torrents which rushed down
the mountain sides to the valleys below.
“The floods increased, until the waters met waters and rushed on,
filling the ravines, the valleys, and all the lowlands about here.
“Upon the bosom of the torrents went the trees, crashing into each
other, being rolled and tossed up and down, back and forth, till all
branches and boughs, all but the trunks, were stripped clean.
“At last they were pitched into a great water-filled valley that looked
like a lake, or inland sea, with its vast area of floods filling it from
mountainside to mountainside, and with no visible outlet. Here the
bereft trees were trapped. No tides to carry them away, no outlet to
drain the water. Some were piled up like jack-straws, others were thrown
off by themselves, but all were torn and stripped of their beauty as
they had stood and defied the world at their feet.
“Then the storms and the gales ceased. But the mountains were now bared.
Without the trees to protect it, the earth on the mountainsides was
washed away in the succeeding storms. Then the naked rocks were seen,
and in time they, too, were washed down into the valley-lake where the
trees were packed this way and that way.
“Hundreds, yea thousands of years passed, and this lake, with its mass
of tree-skeletons, and the variegated waters caused by the escape of
mineral coloring from the rocks, slowly evaporated and slowly deposited
its massed rocks and conglomerate debris into rifts and cañons; many of
the trees were covered with the dirt of centuries and are now being
discovered and revealed to admiring eyes. We see them now, not as the
grand old trees that ruled the forests, but as columns marbled in the
most exquisite colors and patterns, and all dyed by the same process of
Nature’s art-shop.”
As Mr. Gilroy concluded his story of the Petrified Forests, the scouts
realized that they were almost there—at the Inland Lake of primeval
times which had left such marvelous records of the Great Storm.
That day the tourists visited everything worth seeing in the two
Petrified Forests, the second one covering an area of over two thousand
acres. The girls marveled at the huge fallen tree trunks, the old giants
of that long-ago mountainside, now transformed into agate and onyx with
beautiful marblings of rich crimson, pastel greens, royal purples,
dazzling gold—all woven and twisted together. Here and there glistened
crystals, pure and transparent as diamonds. But whence came they?
In the first forest the scattering of the petrified trees gave the
elements a better opportunity to polish them, hence the colors may be
said to be more intense. Also erosion played a big part, and this
created fantastic figures of the petrified mass it carved. In this way
the Eagle’s Head came to be in the first forest.
The Petrified Bridge, also in the first forest, is a great trunk which
crosses a ravine about fifty feet wide. The length of this agate bridge
is about 111 feet, but it is estimated that the full length of the
tree-trunk must have been about 40 or 50 feet before it was broken and
petrified.
That evening, with the sun setting upon the rainbow-colored forests
which were in plain sight of the camp, the scouts ate supper and
speculated on what wonders in Chalcedony Park and Rainbow Forests the
morrow might have in store for them.
Although the third and fourth forests were intensely interesting, they
failed to make the same deep impression on the minds of the scouts as
the first one had done. Nevertheless the entire party found plenty of
things to see to fill a day, and they started back for Adamana with so
many mental pictures of the Petrified Trees that Mr. Gilroy said that
they would surely dream of them that night. However, his prediction
failed to come true, as every one was so healthily tired out that sleep
proved to be too deep for dreams that night.
At the comfortable little inn of Adamana the host said: “You really
ought to visit the Lava Fields and Sunset Crater now that you’re so near
them. Then there’s Diablo Cañon on the trail, and Meteorite Mountain
only ten miles from Diablo. _Then_ take the train to Williams, if you
can’t take time to go horseback through the San Francisco Mountains;
there you can change to the spur that runs to the Grand Cañon.”
Though the scouts were impatient to arrive at the wonderful lode-star
that had beckoned them West, they signified their willingness to defer
that moment when they should stand on the rim of the world and gaze at
the awful rent in Mother Earth’s garment—a rent over a hundred miles in
length, eighteen miles in width, and over a mile in depth, all to be
seen in one sweeping glance from a point which projects from the upper
level of the ground at the top of the Cañon.
“I was going to add,” said the host, “that being this far up the trail
it would be a crime for you not to ride on to Flagstaff, where you ought
to visit the Lowell Observatory. Go there at night, and be introduced to
the stars in the heavens.”
It was due to this man’s suggestions and the scouts’ obedience to his
advice, that the citizens of Elmertown were treated to several articles
signed “Juliet Lee.” The first one read:
“At Sunset Crater and the Lava Fields to-day we could see hundreds of
square miles of volcanic activities. The most interesting of these lava
flows and extinct craters is one which is plainly visible from the Santa
Fé railroad. It shines resplendent as though the sun were casting its
red-gold rays upon the crest of the peak. It is said that the particles
of iron in the rock of which this mountain is formed has oxidized and
now presents the glowing color of sunset; when seen in this remarkable
air of Arizona you can imagine the sun is shining forever upon that
volcano.”
Another day the readers of the _Record_ were treated to a graphic bit
about Meteorite Mountain.
“We rode to Meteorite Mountain, which is a peculiar mound about two
hundred feet high. Even before we reached it we saw pieces of meteoric
iron scattered about, seeming to bear out the theory of our scientists
that the meteor struck here, exploded, and blasted the hole into which
it fell, leaving the great rim of upturned earth two hundred feet high
that constitutes the mound.
“We climbed this mound and found the huge bowl at the top to be more
than a mile deep, with more than forty acres area at the bottom. If you
care to see what the fearful effect would be of hurling a blazing meteor
from the sky and having it strike a soft globe of earth, just climb up
to the steeple of the Elmertown Church and drop a rock about the size of
a water-melon into a large mud-puddle. The rock may not splash, but the
puddle would.
“Fancy, then, this red-hot ball of metal, heated to almost a molten
state by the velocity it had attained in being hurled through a million
miles of space, and being attracted by force of gravitation to our
pleasant little planet!
“On our ride from Meteorite Mountain we collected different pieces of
the particles of Meteoric rock which can be found strewn over the
surrounding area for many miles around. But none of these metallic
pieces had life enough to attract a needle.
“One gentleman whom we met in Cañon Diablo told us there were diamonds
to be found hidden in the small meteorites. Dear friends in Elmertown,
your girl scouts may yet succeed in placing their native place on the
map and have it a head-liner in the great metropolitan daily papers,
for we have collected so many meteorites that it is possible, nay it is
probable, that we shall find diamonds in our samples.”
In another issue of the paper Julie had an article on Cañon Diablo which
they visited the day after going to Meteorite Mountain.
“Although we could have glimpsed the Cañon Diablo from the train which
crosses this chasm on a threadlike steel bridge two hundred and fifty
feet high, we had decided to trail to Flagstaff in order to see
everything on the way, to say nothing of glorying in the air and the
omnipresent coloring of sky and land in this marvelous section of
America.
“Cañon Diablo is a unique result of volcanic eruption. It is a narrow
chasm not much wider than six hundred feet, but it is several miles
long, and from two to three hundred feet deep. Picture to yourself a
jagged, awe-inspiring cleft in our earth which, from the peculiar
coloring of the rocky walls, looks as if a perpetual fire burned there.
Even the atmosphere causes one to fancy that there must be smoke rising
from this scene of Satan’s camp fire.”
There was so much to be seen in every direction all along this wonder
route of New Mexico and Arizona that the scouts felt as if a year would
be all too short a time in which to visit the places they yearned to
see. As for _two months_! Well, that was only a taste of the delights in
touring this land.
For instance, while crossing the Painted Desert Lo had said: “Boss, you
tek fren’s to see Cañon de Chelly sure! I show you dere our Navajo Fort,
and fines’ Cañon scenery in worl’.”
But the tempting offer had to be refused for lack of time. Thinking that
the halting manner in which the refusal was made might be overcome, Lo
added: “You see Monument Cañon, the famous Rainbow Bridge, and the Cañon
del Muerto where mummy caves are viseeted. Mebbe you buy wonder blankets
mek by Navajo up Cañon Chelly, eh?”
Again at Ream’s Cañon, the trader had advised the scouts to be sure to
trail up to Tuba city.
“If you want to see the most wonderful cliff-dwellings in the west, you
really must visit those of Betatakin and Kitsiel on your way to Tuba.
“Then you should take plenty of time to visit the Hopi villages, in
order to get acquainted with them; to get photographs of the squaws
building the houses while their lords sit smoking their pipes and boss
the work. If you are favored, because of the girl scouts here, you may
snap the pictures while the Hopis do their tribal dance. You _may_
persuade one of their shamans, or medicine men, to tell you a thrilling
story of old.”
Mr. Gilroy had to reply regretfully: “We haven’t the time to visit these
interesting places. The girls have to be back home for school by the
middle of September.”
Again, after visiting the Petrified Forests, the scouts were advised to
see, without fail, the many amazing sights to be found in the San
Francisco Mountains.
To this advice from the host, the same answer as given Lo and the
trader, was made: “We haven’t time for all, but we do expect to visit
the Walnut Cañon and the Lava Fields on our way to Flagstaff.”
The final temptation was offered the scouts while they were stopping in
Flagstaff. They had visited the Lowell Observatory at night as had been
advised, and were back at the hotel when the manager addressed Mr.
Gilroy.
“I suppose you are going to take in Montezuma’s Castle and well, so long
as you are here.”
But these interesting points were forty-seven miles south of Flagstaff.
To ride there on horseback or to go in a wagon meant several days’ extra
time, and that much to be deducted from the time on hand in which to
complete this tour. Hence the scouts had to forego the pleasure of that
side trip or stop there when they traveled southward from Ash Fork.
Before leaving Flagstaff Mr. Gilroy telegraphed the horse-dealer at
Trinidad for instructions regarding the return of the saddle-horses
which they would no longer use or need after reaching Williams. The
answer came in a few hours time: “Ship back freight collect.”
“Well, girls, you’ll soon say farewell to the horses, consequently you
may have your choice of riding them to Williams, or sending them home
from here,” said Mr. Gilroy after reading the telegram to them.
The distance from Flagstaff to Williams was so negligible, and the roads
so good, that the scouts preferred riding instead of taking the train.
At Williams, however, the saddle horses were sent home as requested, and
Tally found a buyer for the three pack-horses as well as the outfits for
camping. When he handed the money received for the horses to Mr. Gilroy,
he grinned and said:
“You travel cheapes’ any one I ever see, Boss.”
“Why? What’s all this money for?” asked Mr. Gilroy.
“T’ree pack-horses in St Michael’s cos’ you sixity-fife dollar. Here in
William I sell he’em fer t’irty dollar each, mek ninety. What I sell
camp outfit for you I lose some money, but what you mek on t’ree hoss
more’n mek up loose, see? So now you trail across desert an’ it no cos’
anything,” explained the guide.
“Here, Tally! we shall go fifty-fifty on the profits of this
horse-deal,” declared Mr. Gilroy, sharing the excess money equally.
“Gilly turning horse-trader! Who would have thought it?” laughed Julie,
as they started for the railroad station.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL
On the trail from Williams to the Grand Cañon, the scouts found plenty
to interest and with which to amuse themselves. The interest was to be
had by gazing at the grandeur of the scenery, ever changing from one
aspect to another, as the train passed the San Franciscan Mountains and
climbed the grade which rose steadily. The amusement was furnished by
tourists who seemed possessed in telling others all about the “dos” and
“don’ts” one must obey at the Grand Cañon.
Finally, one tourist, his patience quite gone, asked a woman—a
pinched-faced, narrow-eyed, thin-lipped woman—how many times she had
been through the Cañon. “Perhaps you live there permanently,” said he in
conclusion.
“Me! Why, no. This is my first visit there. What made you ask?”
“Because you _seem_ to know more about the whole length and breadth of
Grand Cañon than all the books ever written on the subject,” retorted
the man, with finality.
Thereafter there was comparative silence in the Pullman, for which the
scouts were duly grateful to the sarcastic man.
“Gilly, are we going to stop at the El Tovar Hotel that woman was
telling about?” asked Betty.
“No, Betsy, I thought you scouts would much rather camp, and go on from
site to site as the spirit moves us, eh?”
A chorus of “Oh, yes, Gilly!” assured the Boss of the party that his
idea was well favored. Then Mr. Vernon said: “How about outfits now that
Tally sold ours in Williams?”
“We’ll join a ‘John Bass Camp’; there being so many in our group we can
manage to secure a guide and the outfits without having strangers thrust
in upon our party. In this way we secure the horses, outfits, and
everything, much cheaper than we could provide them for ourselves,”
explained Mr. Gilroy.
“Oh, I’m just crazy to get there!” cried Judith, who really acted
half-wild over everything in the west.
“What a pity it is our Judy could not have been in the Rockies with us
last summer,” said the Captain.
“I’m glad she wasn’t, Verny. I never should have been the chief actor in
all the thrills Joan and I reeled off for you,” said Julie.
“Maybe it would have been the three ‘J’s’ instead of two jays,” laughed
Joan.
“Girls! some one said we are here!” cried Hester, pressing her face
against the window-screen in order to look for the town of Grand Cañon.
She saw a few scattered dwellings and a railroad station.
Mr. Gilroy had no idea of allowing the scouts to see the Cañon at once.
It was late afternoon when they left the train, and he led them directly
to the hotel where they could wash and brush up and then have afternoon
tea. He planned to show them their first view of the wonderful chasm
with the hues of sunset full upon its walls, and his plan succeeded even
better than he could have hoped for.
The eager and impatient scouts ran out ahead of Mr. Gilroy the sooner to
view the Wonder they had come so far to see. They reached the rail and
looked. The earth lay open before their eyes!
Not a word was uttered. Girlish hands clutched at the rail, and breaths
came in short gasps. The sun was sending slanting beams across the
gigantic gap before them, and dark purple mist was already veiling the
depths of the cañon.
Finally Betty sobbed aloud. The sound seemed to unlock the pent-up
emotion of the other scouts. Every one trembled with the wild thrill of
the scene, and two of the girls laughed hysterically.
Having taken their fill of this their first view of the Cañon, the
scouts followed Mr. Gilroy to a point which jutted out beyond the rest
of the cliff.
“It looks seared and scarred like one of those old shamans back on the
Desert,” commented Joan, gazing down at the ruin-like mass of rock which
apparently held up the promontory upon which they were standing.
“Look, girls! That is what I want you to see,” called Mr. Gilroy, as
they all reached the spot out on the projection of earth. He pointed in
the direction he wished the scouts to gaze.