Some years ago, I was one of a party of "prairie merchants," who crossed
with a caravan from Saint Louis on the Mississippi, to Santa Fe in New
Mexico. We followed the usual "Santa Fe trail." Not disposing of all
our goods in New Mexico, we kept on to the great town of Chihuahua,
which lies farther to the south. There we settled our business, and
were about to return to the United States the way we had come, when it
was proposed (as we had now nothing to encumber us but our bags of
money), that we should explore a new "trail" across the prairies. We
all wished to find a better route than the Santa Fe road; and we
expected that such an one lay between the town of El Paso--on the Del
Norte River--and some point on the frontiers of Arkansas.
On arriving at El Paso, we sold our wagons, and purchased Mexican
pack-mules--engaging, at the same time, a number of "arrieros," or
muleteers to manage them. We also purchased saddle-horses--the small
tight horses of New Mexico, which are excellent for journeying in the
Desert. We provided ourselves, moreover, with such articles of clothing
and provisions as we might require upon our unknown route. Having got
everything ready for the journey, we bade adieu to El Paso, and turned
our faces eastward. There were in all twelve of us--traders, and a
number of hunters, who had agreed to accompany us across the plains.
There was a miner, too, who belonged to a copper mine near El Paso.
There were also four Mexicans--the "arrieros" who had charge of our
little train of pack-mules. Of coarse, we were all well armed, and
mounted upon the best horses we could procure for money.
We had first to cross over the Rocky Mountains, which run north and
south through all the country. That chain of them which lies eastward
of El Paso is called the Sierra de Organos, or "Organ mountains." They
are so called from the fancied resemblance which is seen in one of their
cliffs to the tubes of an organ. These cliffs are of trap rock, which,
as you are aware, often presents very fantastic and singular formations,
by means of its peculiar stratification. But there is a still more
curious feature about these Organ mountains. On the top of one of them
is a lake, which has its tides that ebb and flow like the tides of the
ocean! No one has yet accounted for this remarkable phenomenon, and it
remains a puzzle to the geological inquirer. This lake is a favourite
resort for the wild animals of the country, and deer and elk are found
in great numbers around its shores. They are not even molested by the
Mexican hunters of these parts, who seem to have a superstitious fear of
the spirits of the Organ mountains, and rarely climb up their steep
sides.
Our party found an easy pass through the range, which brought us out
into an open country on the other side. After travelling several days
through the eastern spurs of the Rocky Mountains, known as the Sierras
Sacramento and Guadalupe, we struck upon a small stream, which we
followed downward. It brought us at length to a large river running
north and south, which we knew to be the celebrated Pecos, or, as it is
sometimes called, the Puerco. These, you will perceive, are all Spanish
names, for the country through which we were travelling, although
uninhabited and almost unexplored by the Mexican Spaniards, was yet part
of their territory; and such objects as were known to them, through
hunters or others, had received names in their language.
We crossed the Pecos, and travelled for some days up its left bank, in
hopes of reaching some other stream that might run into it from the
east, which we could follow. No such stream appeared; and we were
forced at times to leave the Pecos itself, and take out into the open
country for a distance of miles, before we could get back to its waters.
This was on account of the deep channel which the river--working for
long ages--had cut through hills that opposed its course, leaving on
both sides vast precipices for its banks.
Having got farther to the north than we wished, our party at length
determined to attempt the passage of the arid plain which stretched away
eastward as far as the eye could reach. It was a perilous enterprise to
leave the river, without some knowledge that there was water ahead of
us. Travellers, under such circumstances, usually keep close to a
stream--wherever it runs in the direction in which they wish to go; but
we had grown impatient on not finding one flowing into the Pecos from
the east; and, having filled our gourd canteens, and given our animals
as much water as they could drink, we turned their heads towards the
open plain.
After riding for several hours, we found ourselves in the midst of a
wide desert, with neither hill, mountain, nor any other landmark in
view. Scarcely a trace of vegetation appeared around us. Here and
there were patches of stunted sage-bushes and clumps of thorny cactus;
but not a blade of grass to gladden the eyes of our animals. Not a drop
of water was met with, nor any indication that rain had ever fallen upon
that parched plain. The soil was as dry as powder, and the dust, kicked
up by the hoofs of our mules and horses, hung around us in clouds as we
marched. In addition to this, the heat was excessive; and this, with
the dust and fatigue of travel, brought on an unquenchable thirst, that
soon caused us to drink up the contents of our water-gourds. Long
before night they were all empty, and every one of our party was crying
out from thirst. Our animals suffered worse--for we, at least, had
food, while they, poor brutes, were without a bite to sustain them.
We could not well turn back. We thought we should surely come to water,
sooner than we could get back to the river we had left; and with this
hope we struggled on. Late in the afternoon, our eyes were greeted by a
glad sight, that caused us to start up in our saddles with a feeling of
joy. You may think that it was water--but it was not. It was a white
object that appeared against the sky at a great distance. It was of a
triangular shape, and seemed to be suspended in the air like the upper
half of a huge kite. All of us knew at a glance what it was. We knew
that it was the white cap of a snowy mountain.
You will wonder why this sight should have given us such feelings of
pleasure, as, in your opinion, there is nothing very hospitable in the
appearance of a snow-capped mountain. That is because you do not
understand the peculiarities of the Desert. I will explain. We knew,
from the appearance of the mountain, that it was one of those where the
snow lies for ever, and which throughout Mexico are termed "Nevada," or
snowy. We knew, moreover, that wherever these are met with, streams of
water will be found running down their sides, almost at all seasons, but
certainly in hot or summer weather, in consequence of the melting of the
snow. It was this knowledge, then, that cheered us; and although the
mountain seemed at a great distance, we pushed forward with renewed
energy and hope. Our animals, too, as if they also understood the
matter, neighed and brayed loudly, and stepped out with a more springy
and elastic tread.
The white triangle grew bigger as we advanced. At sunset we could
distinguish the brown seams in the lower part of the mountain; and the
yellow rays glancing upon the snowy crystals of the cone caused it to
glitter like a coronet of gold. The sight cheered us on.
The sun set, and the moon took his place in the heavens. Under her pale
light we travelled on--the peak of the mountain still glistening coldly
before us. We travelled all night--and why not? There was nothing to
halt for. We could not have halted, except to die.
The morning broke upon us as we dragged wearily along. We could not
have ridden less than an hundred miles since leaving the Pecos river;
and yet, to our dismay, the mountain was still at a good distance before
us. As the day brightened, we could trace the configuration of its
base; and we observed that upon its southern face a deep ravine indented
the mountain nearly to its top. On its western side--the one nearest
us--there was no such feature; and we conjectured that the most likely
place for water would be in the ravine on the south, where a stream
would be formed by the aggregation of the melted snows.
We directed our course toward the point, where the ravine appeared to
have its debouchement on the plain. We had calculated rightly. As we
approached it, winding round the foot of the mountain, we saw a line of
a bright green colour, running out into the brown desert. It looked
like a low hedge, with here and there tall trees growing up above the
rest. We knew well what it was--a grove of willows, with trees of
cotton-wood interspersed. We knew them to be the sure signs of water,
and we hailed their appearance with delight. The men huzzaed hoarsely--
the horses neighed--the mules hinnied--and, in a few moments more, men,
mules, and horses, were kneeling by a crystal streamlet, and drinking
deeply of its sweet and refreshing waters.