doing so it shed a glory of light over all the crags and chasms, the
pinnacles and plateaus, the mesas and monuments of this Wonderland.
Quite suddenly, this red sphere seemed to roll behind the peak and as
suddenly the glory faded.
Now began the marvelous transformation scene. What had been rocky walls
crimson as blood became purple, then lilac, then scarcely-tinted
lavender ghosts of cliffs. Then the sharp points of all the rocks and
monuments in sight became veiled as with a pale gossamer web so frail
that a breath might waft it away. Finally the night-shadows crept up
from the Cañon to meet the purple curtain from the heavens which now
fell slowly but surely as if drawn by an invisible hand from behind the
scenes.
“Oh!” sighed Julie, as the last flicker of the sunset died away from the
farthest battlement.
“Verny, my knees shake so from all this greatness that I don’t see how
I shall be able to walk back to the hotel,” sighed Amy.
“Then you’ll be glad to hear that you won’t have to walk back, eh, Amy?”
asked Mr. Vernon, catching a glimpse of Tally and a strange guide with a
group of saddle horses waiting at a distance near the bridle path.
“Are you going to make a chair for me of your crossed hands, you and
Gilly?” laughed Amy, following the others as they walked away from the
crag.
“Better than that,” returned Mr. Gilroy; “we all shall ride to camp. I
had Tally go and arrange with the Bass manager for camping
accommodations during our stay in the Grand Cañon.”
It was with relieved minds then, that the scouts climbed into
comfortable saddles and started to ride to the most up-to-date camp they
had ever seen. The question of suitable apparel for the dinner and
evening in such a luxurious hotel as El Tovar had been the only fly in
the ointment while gazing on the Cañon at sunset. Now Gilly had helped
them out of that difficulty by his quick perceptions and realization of
the fitness of things.
The camp-site for that night had been chosen with a view to giving the
scouts the first glimpse of sunrise. Bearing that in mind, Mr. Gilroy
said: “Every one has to be up and ready to come with me before sun-up
in the morning. Therefore, we’d better go to bed early.”
“That’s no punishment for me,” laughed Joan, and the other girls
seconded her declaration.
“We will add,” supplemented Julie, “We’ll go to bed _now_, provided
you’ll send our dinners to us.”
“Not much! One reason I decided to bring you all to camp was to save
myself the expense of tipping for such a crowd. Now you ask me to serve
dinner in your private rooms? That adds extra cost to the charges for
dinner, and I cannot afford it.”
“Oh, does it?” said Betty, her eyes opening wide in surprise.
“Yes, of course, Simple!” laughed her twin sister, winking at the other
girls.
In the high altitudes of the west with its rarified air, one sleeps less
and feels more rested than near the sea-levels where the humidity makes
one heavy-lidded. Therefore the scouts were up at dawn and were waiting
on one of the projecting cliffs to get the first glimpse of the sun.
They saw the Cañon in the early morning as an oriental city, mist-veiled
and shadowy, suggesting haunting mysteries.
Then came up from behind the rim of turrets and towers, a golden light
that bathed the Cañon in a sea of glory. Soon this light grew more
intense, until every point of rock was transformed into a gleaming
spear-point. At last came the sun-burst of gold which instantly
reflected in the Cañon in opalescent tints too beautiful to name.
Having remained spell-bound by the marvel of watching the rising sun
touch and transform everything, from the greatest to the least, the
scouts finally sighed and Mr. Gilroy made a move to get up.
“Sorry to shatter this dream, girls, but I’m sure I smelled frying bacon
from our camp yonder,” said he.
“Oh, Gilly!” exclaimed a chorus of voices in shocked disapproval.
“How can you be so material?” was Joan’s horrified query.
“I can understand how it is,” giggled Anne. “Of course, I am just as
surprised and uplifted over this scene as any one ought to be, but bacon
and eggs also have an appeal.”
“Anne,” said Mr. Gilroy, “these dabblers in rhapsodies will eat their
full share of the ‘common material food’ the moment they get within
reach of that frying-pan. Come on, let’s get there first, Anne.”
During breakfast Mr. Gilroy said: “As soon as we finish here, the guide
proposes taking us down Bright Angel trail to the bottom of the Cañon.
The heavier you are the firmer you will feel while on the burros’ backs,
hence I advise you to eat plenty.”
“Gilly, dear, I think I will remain in camp. I am not going down,”
stammered Betty.
“Not going down! Well, I guess you are!” exclaimed Julie, amazed.
“Julie, I’m afraid,” whimpered the girl.
“Nonsense! What’s there to be afraid of?” demanded her sister.
The adults in the group reasoned with Betty, but Amy and Hester now
said: “We’ll stay here with Betty and keep her company.”
Betty smiled feebly in gratitude to these wonderful friends who were
willing to forego the thrill of such a trip in order to keep her from
being lonely.
“No, you don’t!” retorted Joan. “If you two have the shakes, the only
way to cure you is to drag you down at the heels of the donkeys.”
“If you’re _afraid_ to go down why not up and confess, just as Betty
did? Don’t go and get out of it by saying you’ll sacrifice yourself by
remaining here to keep her company,” was Julie’s sarcastic suggestion.
Mrs. Vernon cut this unpleasant little scene short by saying: “We’re all
ready to start when you are, Gilly. Betty is going too, as she’ll see
once she is on the way that there is nothing to dread.”
Two bright crimson spots began to glow in Betty’s cheeks as she followed
after her friends, but she trembled every time she glanced in the
direction of the Cañon.
There were twenty-three tourists, besides the scout-party, to ride down
Bright Angel trail that morning. Some ladies who were not provided with
riding habits had rented them from the outfit department of the hotel.
Of course, Julie had to say “23 is skiddoo!” Every one had to ride
cross-saddle, but two of the ladies in the cavalcade made a great fuss
over such an immodest sight! The scouts stared in amazement.
Judith whispered: “They ought to remain home on the farm and knit
antimacassors for the chairs.”
Finally they started off, one guide leading, another bringing up the
rear. Tally rode directly in front of Amy, then after Amy came Betty.
Back of Betty rode the Bass Guide, and behind him rode Hester. This
arrangement would place each one of the two guides next to each of the
three timid girls.
The trail, cut and made by hands with infinite labor and patience,
seemed all too narrow for the feet of man. Yet the little burros go up
and down it with perfect security.
“How can they do it, Gilly?” asked Joan, as they started down.
“Because their tiny hoofs take up no room, whatever, as they plant them
down one directly in front of the other. Another thing, they are trained
for this trail, and instinct tells them at what precise place to go
slow, or at what time to hasten. Just trust them and _look up_. Don’t
look down into the chasm, but up and over at the marvels of this place.”
To Amy, there were no more marvels in this Cañon—it was all purgatory
from fear. To Hester it looked like the side of the Woolworth Tower. To
Betty it was just nothing at all, but space, down, down into the bowels
of the earth.
But the donkeys had started down and, perforce, carried the riders with
them. Here and there the Cañon guides called the attention of their
charges to various attractions.
“Gilly, why do all these horrid little burros insist upon walking on the
outer rim of this razor-edge!” called Joan, who had vainly endeavored to
guide her mount nearer the perpendicular wall on the inside of the
trail.
Mr. Gilroy laughed. “They’d much rather you would scrape your thigh than
theirs.”
At this moment a shrill cry came from one of the women who had objected
to the divided skirts, “I got to go back! I just got to—right off!”
“You can’t!” shouted a guide. “You’ll be off, all right, if you don’t
keep quiet and sit tight—Off into space. But you can’t go back now.”
“You’d better turn around and help me get back!” shrilled she. “I’ll sue
you if you don’t do as I wish.”
“Madam, it’s impossible to get back. The trail is only wide enough for a
burro. How in the name of all possessed do you expect this line to turn
around and pass itself in order to lead you up?”
The guide was impatient, but he hushed the threatening female for a
time. Soon after this, the riders came to a broad shelf where all might
relax the tension. Once here, the woman who had wanted to return to the
hotel spoke again.
“Here I stay till you come back! You don’t get me to go no further.”
Then her companion began to remonstrate with her, and the scouts heard
the argument.
“They won’t rebate a cent, Lizzie. All this money for this ride wasted
while you sit here waiting and the mule ain’t workin’, at all!”
Perhaps it was the idea of paying for something she might miss that
induced the complainer to continue down the trail when the guide
proceeded on his route.
In suddenly calling a halt on the trail where it was so narrow that the
riders’ legs on the Cañon side were sheer over the edge, many of the
mules had turned a sharp projecting cliff and were out of sight, while
the rest were still crawling down the trail upon the upper side of the
bluff. At the very moment when the halt was ordered Julie’s mule was
about to turn the corner, and the wise little beast instantly obeyed the
command. His head and forefeet were on the one side of the blade-like
angle of the cliff, and his tail and hindfeet on the other side making
a decided twist in his body. He could adapt himself nicely to such a
squirming necessity, but the saddle did not. Hence Julie was suspended,
more than three-fourths of her, over the edge.
“Tally! Tally!” called she to the guide who was the third rider in
advance, but out of sight back of the cliff, “half of me is on the
down-trail on your side of the cliff, but the other half of me is on the
up-trail on the Captain’s side of it. If you’ll only urge the guide to
move the line along two feet further I’ll be all one side as I should
be.”
Those behind her laughed, because her predicament was exactly as Julie
had described it, but Tally knew the danger of the position and had the
entire line of mules advance a few steps to allow the scout’s mount to
come completely around the curve.
Presently the cavalcade resumed the downward climb. Lower and lower went
the trail, and higher, still higher, rose the walls of the Cañon above
the heads of these tiny dots which clung tenaciously as they crawled
along the face of the cliffs. Finally the advance guide shouted:
“We’re coming to the plateau where are the Indian Gardens. There we will
halt and rest the mules; the riders may stretch their own muscles and
walk around, if they choose.” The riders were glad to do so.
After resuming the ride, the frightened woman who had so recently
insisted upon going back to the hotel, began to chatter of the beauties
seen on this trail, with praise for the one who had named it Bright
Angel Trail.
“Not so long since, Madam, you were sure of falling and turning into an
Angel yourself, eh?” was the remark made by a short fat man directly
back of the spinster.
“Sir!” snapped the offended lady, but she daren’t turn her head.
“Oh, pardon! I didn’t mean a ‘fallen Angel’—not at all; although you
could scarcely hope to become a ‘Bright Angel’,” explained the man.
The woman dared not turn about in her saddle to freeze the speaker with
one of her looks, but she could maintain a very haughty silence, which
she did, to the relief of all the other members of the party.
Jacob’s Ladder, another hair-raising section on the trail, brought forth
renewed cries and shrill calls for the guides to save the two
entertaining females in the party, but he ignored them now.
“The Devil’s Corkscrew must be named for its facility of compelling one
to screw up one’s courage to descend it, eh?” asked Amy, who had managed
to get thus far without fainting in the saddle.
“I should say its name implies exactly what it says,” returned Mr.
Vernon. “That is: the devil of a corkscrew for man and mule.”
[Illustration: The scouts rode up the Bright Angel Trail.]
Mr. Vernon, always so precise and particular in his speech, shocked the
scouts into a merry laugh of amusement at his shortcoming.
“Verny, Verny! I fear your morals will be completely ruined by the time
we are ready to leave the Cañon,” teased Judith.
“You know the adage: ‘Bad associations, etc.’ don’t you?” laughed Mr.
Vernon. “Well, any one can see the effect Gilly has had on us.”
About noon-day they were at the bottom of the stupendous Cañon where the
Colorado roars its tawny torrents through the gorge. After luncheon, and
a long rest, the party began to prepare for the ascent. Mr. Gilroy had
planned to pitch camp down on the sands near the river, but the two
guides having charge of the trip were inclined to vote against such an
idea. At length, however, they were overruled, so the guides found a
stretch of fine clean sand which would answer admirably for sleeping
purposes. While supper was being prepared, the scouts adventured over
the rocks and Julie took snapshots. As there was plenty of driftwood it
was no trouble to keep a camp-fire going till late in the night. The
warmth from this, and the horse blankets proved to be sufficient for the
scouts. That night they stretched upon the sand, and gazed up at the
mile-high towering cliffs which almost hid the dark-blue vault of
heaven.
The following morning the scouts rode up the Bright Angel Trail to the
branching, where the Tonto trail leads down to the Kaibab trail, over
the suspension bridge, and thus along Bright Angel Creek. On this long
ride the guide stopped at Phantom Ranch for dinner and arranged for his
party to spend the night in the cabins. They then rode on through Bright
Angel Cañon, to Ribbon Falls. That evening the scouts enjoyed many tales
of adventure as told by the guide who had lived in the Grand Cañon area
for many years.
Late afternoon, on the third day, the scouts rode out of the Cañon once
more.
“My!” declared Julie, heaving a great sigh, “I feel as though we had
been absent from this upper crust for many weeks.”
“But glad enough to get away from the roar of the Colorado torrent, and
the mad echoes in the vast chasms and crevices of the Cañon,” added Mrs.
Vernon, who felt that living way down in the Gorge for two days was
enough to satisfy anybody.
For a week thereafter the scouts were continually on the go; then they
felt that they had seen everything of any moment in and about the Grand
Cañon, and Tally and the Bass Guide fully agreed with them.
They had gone down Hermit trail, had stopped at the Santa Maria Spring,
seen the Lion Cañon and stayed over-night in the Hermit Cabins. Then
retracing their way as far as Cape Butte they struck the Tonto Trail and
followed the course until they came out upon the Plateau. They had
visited every point from which a view was to be had, and at last Mr.
Gilroy demanded an inventory of Julie.
“Not your apparel or assets, but a count of the rolls of film you have
on hand by this time, waiting to be developed and printed, once we reach
a reasonably priced kodak shop.”
Julie laughed. “Gilly, ‘I dare not tell a lie,’ and I’m afraid to tell
you the truth.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Gilroy, “Just what I suspected! Now I shall nip all
this photography in the bud by announcing that we bid good-by to
temptation by leaving Grand Cañon in the morning.”
Joan laughed. “No temptation for us to remain, Gilly. Jule’s
photographed every stick and stone and living creature to be found up on
the rim, down in the gorge, and on the sides of all the walls. She even
tried to shoot the sun to-day, but that defied her. Now she’s willing to
depart.”
The girls wished to express the species of flora and pictures of birds
which they had secured for their scout records, consequently they
secured a box and carefully packed the plants and pressed flowers, as
well as the quantities of mineral samples, and the many, many snapshots
taken throughout the trip.
They had pictures of the black-throated song-sparrows, which, winter as
well as summer, in this section of the country never cease their sweet
music; the mountain blue-bird; Bullock’s oriole and the Arizona hooded
oriole; humming-birds, threshers, cardinals and warblers. Then there
were the dusky grouse, known as the pine-hen, because it feeds upon the
pine-nuts of the pinyon; the Alpine three-toed woodpecker; the
white-crowned sparrow; the greve, mallard, blue-winged teal, the coot,
shoveller, ruddy and pintailed ducks; besides these were the whitefaced
ibis, the sora, the stilt, the American avocet, and many, many other
birds. In fact, the girls had added two hundred and forty different
kinds of resident birds to their lists for the scout records. Of course,
many of these had been mentioned already in their records of birds in
the Rockies, and in the Atlantic Coast States; but the environment and
scenery of New Mexico and Arizona were so unusual that the photographs
taken of the birds made them seem very different from those they had of
the same birds in other localities.
To their floral records they had added the odd species of the cactuses,
among which were the hedgehog, fish-hook, barrel-cactus, nigger-head,
candy-cactus, the rainbow and the pin-cushion. The variety of chollas,
which some people class as a cactus, were the prickly pears, the ball
cholla, the common cholla, with its gorgeous flowers of red, pink,
white, and yellow; there were the jumping cholla with flowers a light
rose shade, also many unnamed species with beautiful flowers.
Among the interesting plants which were photographed and sampled, was
the ocatillo, which looks like a clump of gray sticks from ten to twenty
feet high, but with such long thorns their whole length that it is known
as the “Devil’s Claw.” The night blooming cereus was a flower which the
scouts gathered in the desert on one of their camping trips. In the
Grand Cañon they found the rare phacelia, with flowers of a pale violet
color. Similar to the phacelia were the borages with their yellow
flowers in clusters upon rough, hairy stems. There were the neivetas,
the Sactato Gordo, the comb-seed and the stick-seed; gorgeous poppies,
primroses, magnificent sunflowers and the Arizona dandelion. As the girl
scout troop was named after the dandelion, they took a deep interest in
these western dandelions which were very attractive. The plant has
feathery bright green leaves, tinged a deep red, and the flowers are
very beautiful.
They had also gathered many queer kinds of flowers on the mesas, too
numerous to mention individually. So many remarkable species were added
to their records that it is doubtful if any other girl scout in the
country could compete with their collection.
Finally the boxes were insured and shipped to Elmertown, and then came
the last night around the camp fire at Grand Cañon.
“Gilly, when we are away from this fairy-land it will all seem like a
dream to me,” said Betty, sighing.
“At least it will be a pleasant dream, won’t it?” asked he.
“Oh, yes, indeed! I wish it might go on for another summer,” replied
Betty, eagerly.
“That’s one topic I’ve been discussing with the Captain: whether Julie
will make enough money out of that book she proposes to publish, to take
us all on another trip to the west next summer,” ventured Mr. Gilroy,
jokingly. But he had no idea of how near the truth he had ventured when
he spoke of Julie’s book. That was the subject she had eagerly discussed
with Burt, and he had told her that her writing was the kind which would
interest a publisher. Hence she was determined to try the field of
literature soon after she got home.
After bidding the Bass Guide good-by, the scout-party went to the hotel
to wait while Mr. Gilroy sent a few telegrams. When he came back from
the desk he held a handful of letters which he waved at Julie.
“Just think of it, Jule! A broken-hearted young Ranger left a whole week
without a word from you! Here is a letter for every day since he left
Albuquerque—all forwarded from the various towns and left here to
accumulate dust for the past four days.”
Every one laughed at Julie’s amazed expression, but it was soon learned
that the letters were meant for different members in the party. Two
only were for Julie and were postmarked, “Glorieta, New Mexico.”
“Only two, you said,” teased Joan, “but see how thick!”
On the train to Williams, Mr. Gilroy planned to motor the scouts to Ash
Fork, thence to take a local train to Montezuma Castle. Castle Hot
Springs would be their next destination, and then on to Phoenix where
they would follow the plan as at Santa Fé—motor each day to a new point
of interest until all had been visited.
They arrived in Williams and were waiting for Mr. Gilroy to see the
ticket agent about a touring car, when the agent handed him a telegram.
He took it, tore it open, read it, and hurried over to the scouts.
“Say, children, this is the hardest luck of all! I’ve got to leave you
and get back home as quickly as possible,” said he.
“Oh, Gilly!” came a chorus of voices in consternation.
“Yes, and the worst of it is that my lawyer has been trying to catch me
at towns along the railroad line for the past two weeks. That was about
the time we were crossing the Desert. Now I’ve simply got to rush back.”
“Anything serious, Gilly?” asked Mrs. Vernon, deeply concerned.
“Well, it seems there is a legal quibble over my title to the
Adirondack Estate, and my personal presence is needed in Court to
testify. Too much is at stake for me to neglect it. Court opens in
September, you know, and he wishes to consult with me before that date.”
“Gilly, we all go back when you go!” declared Julie, nodding her head at
each of the scouts for their approval to this proposition.
“Yes, indeed, Gilly! that is what I wished to say,” added Mrs. Vernon.
“We won’t miss so very much at that,” said Mr. Vernon. “A mad rush
through Arizona, and then a stampede for the boat to cross the Gulf of
Mexico in hot weather, and then on home. Now we can get on the train and
go through to New York without a care about hotels, and camps, and
timetables.”
“Don’t forget, Gilly, we have several other mountains left in our good
old United States, from which to select our next season’s sojourn,”
declared Joan.
“Don’ leaf Tally outen dat mountain climb, eh?” said the Indian,
anxiously.
“We should say not!” exclaimed Mr. Gilroy, and to this the scouts
chorused, “Motion made and seconded by our chairman, who is the whole
thing.”
“So _he_ says,” laughed Julie, bound to have the last word.