The landscape over which we were looking was one that has long been
celebrated, in the legends of trapper and _cibolero_, and certainly no
lovelier is to be met with in the midland regions of America. Though
new to my eyes, I recognised it from the descriptions I had read and
heard of it. There was an idiosyncrasy in its features--especially in
that lone mound rising conspicuously in its midst--which at once
proclaimed it the valley of the _Huerfano_. There stood the "Orphan
Butte." There was no mistaking its identity.
This valley, or, more properly, _valle_--a word of very different
signification--is in reality a level plain, flanked on each side by a
continuous line of bluffs or "benches"--themselves forming the abutments
of a still higher plain, which constitutes the general level of the
country. The width between the bluffs is five or six miles; but, at the
distance of some ten miles from our point of view, the cliffs converge--
apparently closing in the valley in that direction. This, however, is
only apparent. Above the butte is another deep canon, through which the
river has cleft its way. The intervening space is a picture fair to
behold. The surface, level as a billiard-table, is covered with
_gramma_ grass, of a bright, almost emerald verdure. The uniformity of
this colour is relieved by cotton-wood copses, whose foliage is but one
shade darker. Commingling with these, and again slightly darkening the
hue of the frondage, are other trees, with a variety of shrubs or
climbing-plants--as clematis, wild roses, and willows. Here and there,
a noble poplar stands apart--as if disdaining to associate with the more
lowly growth of the groves.
These "topes" are of varied forms: some rounded, some oval, and others
of more irregular shape. Many of them appear as if planted by the hands
of the landscape-gardener; while the Huerfano, winding through their
midst, could not have been more gracefully guided, had it been specially
designed for an "ornamental water."
The butte itself, rising in the centre of the plain, and towering nearly
two hundred feet above the general level, has all the semblance of an
artificial work--not of human hands, but a cairn constructed by giants.
Just such does it appear--a vast pyramidal cone, composed of huge
prismatic blocks of granite, black almost as a coal--the dark colour
being occasioned by an iron admixture in the rock. For two-thirds of
its slope, a thick growth of cedar covers the mound with a skirting of
darkest green. Above this appear the dark naked prisms--piled one upon
the other, in a sort of irregular crystallisation, and ending in a
summit slightly truncated. Detached boulders lie around its base, huge
pieces that having yielded to the disintegrating influences of rain and
wind, had lost their balance, and rolled down the declivity of its
sides. No other similar elevation is near--the distant bluffs alone
equalling it in height. But there the resemblance ends; for the latter
are a formation of stratified sandstone, while the rocks composing the
butte are purely granitic! Even in a geological point of view, is the
Orphan Butte isolated from all the world. In a double sense, does it
merit its distinctive title.
Singular is the picture formed by this lone mound, and the park-like
scene that surrounds it--a picture rare as fair. Its very framing is
peculiar. The bench of light-reddish sandstone sharply outlined on each
edge--the bright green of the sward along its base--and the dark belt of
cedars cresting its summit, form, as it were, a double moulding to the
frame. Over this can be distinguished the severer outlines of the great
Cordilleras; above them, again, the twin cones of the Wa-to-yah; and
grandly towering over all, the sharp sky-piercing summit of Pike's Peak.
All these forms gleaming in the full light of a noonday sun, with a
heaven above them of deep ethereal blue, present a picture that for
grandeur and sublimity is not surpassed upon the earth.
A long while could we have gazed upon it; but an object, that came at
once under our eyes, turned our thoughts into a far different channel.
Away up the valley, at its furthest end, appeared a small white spot--
little bigger to our view than the disc of an archer's target. It was
of an irregular roundish form; and on both sides of it were other,
shapes--smaller and of darker hue. We had no difficulty in making out
what these appearances were: the white object was the tilt of a waggon:
the dark forms around it were those of men--mounted and afoot! It must
have been the last waggon of the train: since no other could be seen;
and as it appeared at the very end of the valley--in the angle formed by
the convergence of the cliffs--we concluded that there the canon opened
into which the rest had entered. Whether the waggon seen was moving
onward, we did not stay to determine. The caravan was in sight; and
this, acting upon us like an electric influence, impelled us to hasten
forward.
Calling to our companions to advance, we remounted our horses, rode out
of the gorge, and kept on up the valley. We no longer observed the
slightest caution. The caravan was before our eyes; and there could be
no doubt that, in a couple of hours, we should be able to come up with
it. As to danger, we no longer thought of such a thing. Indians would
scarcely be so daring as to assail us within sight of the train? Had it
been night, we might have reasoned differently; but, under the broad
light of day, we could not imagine there was the slightest prospect of
danger. We resolved, therefore, to ride direct for the waggons, without
making halt.
Yes--one halt was to be made. I had promised the _ci-devant_ soldiers
to make _civilians_ of them before bringing them face to face with the
escort; and this was to be accomplished by means of some spare wardrobe
which Wingrove and I chanced to have among our packs. The place fixed
upon as the scene of the metamorphosis was the butte--which lay directly
on our route. As we rode forward, I was gratified at perceiving that
the waggon still remained in sight. If it was moving on, it had not yet
reached the head of the valley. Perhaps it had stopped to receive some
repairs? So much the better: we should the sooner overtake it.
On arriving at the butte, the white canvas was still visible; though
from our low position on the plain, only the top of the tilt could be
seen. While Wingrove was unpacking our spare garments, I dismounted,
and climbed to the summit of the mound--in order to obtain a better
view. I had no difficulty in getting up--for, strange to say, a trail
runs over the Orphan Butte, from south-east to north-west, regularly
aligned with Pike's Peak in the latter direction, and with _Spanish
Peaks_ in the former! But this alignment was not the circumstance that
struck me as singular. A far more curious phenomenon came under my
observation. The path leading to the summit was entirely clear of the
granite blocks that everywhere else covered the declivities of the
mound. Between these it passed like a narrow lane, the huge prisms
rising on each side of it, piled up in a regular trap-like formation, as
if placed there by the hand of man! The latter hypothesis was out of
the question. Many of the blocks were a dozen feet in diameter, and
tons in weight. Titans alone could have lifted them! The summit itself
was a table of some twenty by forty feet in superficial extent, and
seamed by several fissures. Only by following the path could the summit
be reached without great difficulty. The loose boulders rested upon one
another, in such fashion, that even the most expert climber would have
found difficulty in scaling them; and the stunted spreading cedars that
grew between their clefts, combined in forming a _chevaux de frise_
almost impenetrable.
I was not permitted to dwell long on the contemplation of this
geological phenomenon. On reaching the summit, and directing my
telescope up the valley, I obtained a tableau in its field of vision
that almost caused me to drop the glass out of my fingers! The whole
waggon was in view down to its wheel-tracks; and the dark forms were
still around it. Some were afoot, others on horseback--while a few
appeared to be lying flat along the sward. Whoever these last may have
been, I saw at the first glance what the others were. The bronzed skins
of naked bodies--the masses of long sweeping hair--the plumed crests and
floating drapery--were perfectly apparent in the glass--and all
indicating a truth of terrible significance that the forms thus seen
were those of savage men! Yes: both they on horseback and afoot were
Indians beyond a doubt. And those horizontally extended? They were
_white_ men--the owners of the waggons? This truth flashed on me, as I
beheld a fearful object--a body lying head towards me, with its crown of
mottled red and white, gleaming significantly through the glass. I had
no doubt as to the nature of the object: it was a scalpless skull!