HEROINES OF THE TRAIL
On the way to Roosevelt, before the Overland girls caught up with him,
Ike Fairweather had met a deputy sheriff and posse, who had been in
the mountains looking for a horse thief, but were now returning to the
place for which the Overlanders were headed.
From Ike the deputy learned of the attacks on the Overland girls, and
of their plucky defense. Ike, furthermore, became loquacious, told the
officer all he knew about Grace Harlowe and her friends, not forgetting
the redoubtable Hippy Wingate who had “shot down more German airplanes
than any other man in the Allied armies.”
When the deputy reached Roosevelt, he repeated Ike’s story at the
Lodge, as the hotel at Roosevelt Lake was called, so, without their
knowledge, the Overlanders’ praises were sung there some hours in
advance of their arrival. When the girls came up with Ike just before
noon that day, and took luncheon with him, Mr. Fairweather discreetly
neglected to mention what he had told the deputy sheriff about them.
Three hours later the Overland Riders reached the bottom of the grade
to Roosevelt, rounded the “painted rocks” that stood sentinel over
the trail there, and walked their horses across the great spillway of
Roosevelt Dam, more than three hundred yards in length, this spillway
releasing the surplus water from Lake Roosevelt, which is formed by the
waters held in check and backed up by Roosevelt Dam. The water in its
nearly three hundred feet fall from the top of the spillway roared into
Salt River Canyon, a miniature Niagara, sending up clouds of rainbow
spray, the thunder of its fall echoing down the canyon for miles.
Elfreda Briggs, who was riding by Grace’s side, leaned over and shouted
into her companion’s ear:
“Hippy can indulge in as much oratory as he pleases here. No one will
hear him above the roar of the waterfall, for which much thanks.”
Grace nodded and grinned.
After crossing the spillway, the party turned to the right and followed
a shining white trail along the edge of the lake to the Apache Lodge,
which was located, they found, between the east and west arms of the
lake.
Some difficulty was experienced in finding a place where they could
stake down their ponies, but finally succeeding in tethering the
animals, they quickly removed the packs from the backs of “man, woman
and beast,” as Miss Briggs characterized it.
“Lieutenant, if you do not mind going bare-headed, we will all walk
over to the Lodge and see if they will let us in,” said Grace.
It was a dust-covered, brown-faced, bright-eyed party of girls who
mounted the steps of the veranda of the Lodge, where a group of
tourists were enjoying the cool mountain air of the late afternoon. All
eyes were turned on the newcomers.
“The one with the brown hair is Grace Harlowe. The man is the great
American Ace,” Grace heard one of the tourists confide to a companion.
The Overton girl gave the speaker a brief, steady look.
“I will see if I can arrange for accommodations for us here,” said
Grace, turning to the young women of her party. “Perhaps it will be as
well for you to wait on the veranda.”
“Ask the proprietor if he has any old hats for sale,” suggested Hippy
Wingate as Grace was entering the Lodge, at which there was an audible
titter from several of the women guests of the place.
“Have you room, sir, for a party of six not very presentable persons?”
questioned Grace, smiling at the clerk.
“For you, yes. I believe you are Mrs. Grace Harlowe Gray, are you not?”
The Overton girl looked her amazement.
“May I ask how you know my name, sir?”
“The deputy sheriff told me that you and your party were on the way
here. How many rooms do you require?”
“Three with baths. I do not know how long we shall remain, but probably
not longer than some time to-morrow. We shall go into camp when what is
left of our equipment arrives.”
“Yes, I understand that you ladies have had a mishap,” volunteered the
clerk.
“Is there anything that this man doesn’t know about us?” she wondered.
To the clerk she said: “We shall need a reliable man to watch our
horses to-night. Will you be so kind as to send some one to us, some
person who is to be depended upon?”
The clerk said he would, and that the rooms for the party would be
ready whenever they desired to take possession.
Grace returned to the veranda, and, as she stepped out, she halted and
gazed in amazement. Elfreda, Hippy and the others of her party were
speaking with a tall, bronzed man of distinguished appearance. With
him were a gentleman and three ladies. Grace recognized him of the
distinguished bearing instantly.
“General Gordon! How do you do!” she greeted, flushing with pleasure.
The general strode forward and grasped both her hands.
“My dear Mrs. Gray, I am happy beyond words to see you again. This
is my wife; and Colonel Cartwright, the colonel’s sister, and Mrs.
Cartwright. The colonel served with us in France, but I believe you
never met him, which was a misfortune for both.”
“This young woman,” announced the general to his friends, but in a tone
of voice loud enough to be heard by most persons on the veranda, “saved
my life on the battlefield in the Argonne. Had it not been for her, I
should not be here. I have already told Mrs. Gordon the story.”
“Please, General,” begged Grace, flushing with embarrassment, but the
general went on unheeding.
“Mrs. Gray dragged me into a deserted German machine-gun nest after I
had been wounded on the field, manned a machine gun and held the Boches
off until she could flash Morse signals to our lines that night. We
were, at that time, being fired upon by both armies. A braver woman
does not live.”
“Suppose we speak of the beauties of the Old Apache Trail,” suggested
Grace, which brought a hearty laugh from all, and relieved the tension
under which she was suffering.
“When I heard that Grace Harlowe Gray and her friends of the Overton
Unit had proved themselves the heroines of the trail, I said, ‘That’s
our Grace Harlowe, the doughboys’ Grace Harlowe,’ and I was glad. You
must join our party this evening and we will talk war,” he urged.
“Grace, here is an Indian who wishes to speak with you,” interrupted
Hippy.
“Me take care ponies,” said the Indian. “Me Joe Smoky Face.”
“Do you work about the Lodge?” questioned Grace.
“Yes.”
“I will see the clerk about you. Please excuse me for a moment.” Grace
stepped briskly into the Lodge, followed by Lieutenant Wingate and the
Indian. During her absence, the general briefly related the story, as
he knew it, of the work of the Overton Unit in France.
“I think the man understands what is required of him. The clerk says he
is dependable,” announced Grace upon her return to the veranda. “The
horses being arranged for, I think we will go to our quarters now, if
you will excuse us, General.”
“You will join us at dinner, Mrs. Gray?” questioned the general.
“Yes, thank you.”
The Overton girls went to their rooms, not to appear again until
just before dinner time. Wearing fresh uniforms, well groomed, eyes
sparkling, cheeks tinged with faint flushes, they elicited a murmur of
approval from the tourists as they stepped out on the veranda to join
General Gordon and his party.
“Mess is served,” announced the general.
“Yes, but oh, so different,” laughingly replied Grace Harlowe.
At the general’s request, one table had been set to accommodate the two
parties, and the dinner proved to be a happy occasion for all. At the
general’s suggestion, it was decided that the two parties should take
a launch trip the length of Lake Roosevelt on the following morning.
The general said he would charter a launch, that they would take their
luncheons with them and have a real picnic at the mouth of Tonto Creek
at the upper end of the lake, thirty miles away.
A delightful evening was passed at the Lodge where Grace and the
general exchanged war reminiscences, after which the girls went to
their quarters for the night. Hippy strolled out to look over the
ponies and to give Joe Smoky Face final instructions, then returned to
the Lodge and went to bed.
The Overton girls were sound asleep by then. It was the first night,
since they started over the Apache Trail, that they had been free from
nerve-strain, but there were other nights coming, nights that they felt
would hold a full measure of excitement and adventure for them, and
none realized this possibility better than did Grace Harlowe herself.