There was something inspiriting in the sight of these bright mountains;
something life-like, that prevented us from feeling the extreme and real
desolation by which we were surrounded. At times we could not help
fancying that we were in a thickly-populated country--a country of vast
wealth and civilisation, as appeared from its architectural grandeur.
Yet in reality we were journeying through the wildest of earth's
dominions, where no human foot ever trod excepting such as wear the
moccasin; the region of the "wolf" Apache and the wretched Yamparico.
We travelled up the banks of the river, and here and there, at our
halting-places, searching for the shining metal. It could be found only
in small quantities, and the hunters began to talk loudly of the Prieto.
There, according to them, the yellow gold lay in lumps.
On the fourth day after leaving the Gila, we came to a place where the
San Carlos canoned through a high sierra. Here we halted for the night.
When morning came, we found we could follow the river no farther
without climbing over the mountain; and Seguin announced his intention
of leaving it and striking eastward. The hunters responded to this
declaration with a joyous hurrah. The golden vision was again before
them.
We remained at the San Carlos until after the noon heat, recruiting our
horses by the stream; then mounting, we rode forward into the plain. It
was our intention to travel all night, or until we reached water, as we
knew that without this, halting would be useless.
We had not ridden far until we saw that a fearful Jornada was before
us--one of those dreaded stretches without grass, wood, or water. Ahead
of us we could see a low range of mountains, trending from north to
south, and beyond these, another range still higher than the first. On
the farther range there were snowy summits. We saw that they were
distinct chains, and that the more distant was of great elevation. This
we knew from the appearance upon its peaks of the eternal snow.
We knew, moreover, that at the foot of the snowy range we should find
water, perhaps the river we were in search of; but the distance was
immense. If we did not find it at the nearer sierra, we should have an
adventure: the danger of perishing from thirst. Such was the prospect.
We rode on over the arid soil; over plains of lava and cut-rock that
wounded the hoofs of our horses, laming many. There was no vegetation
around us except the sickly green of the artemisia, or the fetid foliage
of the creosote plant. There was no living thing to be seen save the
brown and hideous lizard, the rattlesnake, and the desert crickets that
crawled in myriads along the parched ground, and were crunched under the
hoofs of our animals. "Water!" was the word that began to be uttered in
several languages.
"Water!" cried the choking trapper.
"L'eau!" ejaculated the Canadian.
"Agua! agua!" shouted the Mexican.
We were not twenty miles from the San Carlos before our gourd canteens
were as dry as a shingle. The dust of the plains and the hot atmosphere
had created unusual thirst, and we had soon emptied them.
We had started late in the afternoon. At sundown the mountains ahead of
us did not seem a single mile nearer. We travelled all night, and when
the sun rose again we were still a good distance from them. Such is the
illusory character of this elevated and crystal atmosphere.
The men mumbled as they talked. They held in their mouths leaden
bullets and pebbles of obsidian, which they chewed with a desperate
fierceness.
It was some time after sunrise when we arrived at the mountain foot. To
our consternation no water could be found!
The mountains were a range of dry rocks, so parched-like and barren that
even the creosote bush could not find nourishment along their sides.
They were as naked of vegetation as when the volcanic fires first heaved
them into the light.
Parties scattered in all directions, and went up the ravines; but after
a long while spent in fruitless wandering, we abandoned the search in
despair.
There was a pass that appeared to lead through the range; and entering
this, we rode forward in silence and with gloomy thoughts.
We soon debouched on the other side, when a scene of singular character
burst upon our view.
A plain lay before us, hemmed in on all sides by high mountains. On its
farther edge was the snowy ridge, with stupendous cliffs rising
vertically from the plain, towering thousands of feet in height. Dark
rocks seemed piled upon each other, higher and higher, until they became
buried under robes of the spotless snow.
But that which appeared most singular was the surface of the plain. It
was covered with a mantle of virgin whiteness, apparently of snow; and
yet the more elevated spot from which we viewed it was naked, with a hot
sun shining upon it. What we saw in the valley, then, could not be
snow.
As I gazed over the monotonous surface of this plain, and then looked
upon the chaotic mountains that walled it in, my mind became impressed
with ideas of coldness and desolation. It seemed as if everything was
dead around us, and Nature was laid out in her winding-sheet. I saw
that my companions experienced similar feelings, but no one spoke; and
we commenced riding down the pass that led into this singular valley.
As far as we could see, there was no prospect of water on the plain; but
what else could we do than cross it? On its most distant border, along
the base of the snowy mountains, we thought we could distinguish a black
line, like that of timber, and for this point we directed our march.
On reaching the plain, what had appeared like snow proved to be soda. A
deep incrustation of this lay upon the ground, enough to satisfy the
wants of the whole human race; yet there it lay, and no hand had ever
stooped to gather it.
Three or four rocky buttes were in our way, near the debouchure of the
pass. As we rounded them, getting farther out into the plain, a wide
gap began to unfold itself, opening through the mountains beyond.
Through this gap the sun's rays were streaming in, throwing a band of
yellow light across one end of the valley. In this the crystals of the
soda, stirred up by the breeze, appeared floating in myriads.
As we descended, I observed that objects began to assume a very
different aspect from what they had exhibited from above. As if by
enchantment, the cold snowy surface all at once disappeared. Green
fields lay before us, and tall trees sprang up, covered with a thick and
verdant frondage!
"Cotton-woods!" cried a hunter, as his eye rested on these still distant
groves.
"Tall saplins at that--wagh!" ejaculated another.
"Water thar, fellers, I reckin!" remarked a third.
"Yes, siree! Yer don't see such sprouts as them growin' out o' a dry
paraira. Look! Hollo!"
"By gollies, yonder's a house!"
"A house? One, two, three! A house? Thar's a whole town, if thar's a
single shanty. Gee! Jim, look yonder! Wagh!"
I was riding in front with Seguin, the rest of the band strung out
behind us. I had been for some time gazing upon the ground, in a sort
of abstraction, looking: at the snow-white efflorescence, and listening
to the crunching of my horse's hoofs through its icy incrustation.
These exclamatory phrases caused me to raise my eyes. The sight that
met them was one that made me rein up with a sudden jerk. Seguin had
done the same, and I saw that the whole band had halted with a similar
impulse.
We had just cleared one of the buttes that had hitherto obstructed our
view of the great gap. This was now directly in front of us; and along
its base, on the southern side, rose the walls and battlements of a
city--a vast city, judging from its distance and the colossal appearance
of its architecture. We could trace the columns of temples, and doors,
and gates, and windows, and balconies, and parapets, and spires. There
were many towers rising high over the roofs, and in the middle was a
temple-like structure, with its massive dome towering far above all the
others.
I looked upon this sudden apparition with a feeling of incredulity. It
was a dream, an imagination, a mirage. Ha! it was the mirage!
No! The mirage could not effect such a complete picture. There were
the roofs, and chimneys, and walls, and windows. There were the
parapets of fortified houses, with their regular notches and embrasures.
It was a reality. It was a city!
Was it the Cibolo of the Spanish padre? Was it that city of golden
gates and burnished towers? After all, was the story of the wandering
priest true? Who had proved it a fable? Who had ever penetrated this
region, the very country in which the ecclesiastic represented the
golden city of Cibolo to exist?
I saw that Seguin was puzzled, dismayed, as well as myself. He knew
nothing of this land. He had never witnessed a mirage like that.
For some time we sat in our saddles, influenced by strange emotions.
Shall we go forward? Yes! We must reach water. We are dying of
thirst; and, impelled by this, we spur onward.
We had ridden only a few paces farther when the hunters uttered a sudden
and simultaneous cry. A new object--an object of terror--was before us.
Along the mountain foot appeared a string of dark forms. They were
mounted men!
We dragged our horses to their haunches, our whole line halting as one
man.
"Injuns!" was the exclamation of several.
"Indians they must be," muttered Seguin. "There are no others here.
Indians! No! There never were such as them. See! they are not men!
Look! their huge horses, their long guns; they are giants! By Heaven!"
continued he, after a moment's pause, "they are bodiless! They are
phantoms!"
There were exclamations of terror from the hunters behind.
Were these the inhabitants of the city? There was a striking proportion
in the colossal size of the horses and the horsemen.
For a moment I was awe-struck like the rest. Only a moment. A sudden
memory flashed upon me. I thought of the Hartz Mountains and their
demons. I knew that the phenomenon before us could be no other; an
optical delusion; a creation of the mirage.
I raised my hand above my head. The foremost of the giants imitated the
motion.
I put spurs to my horse and galloped forward. So did he, as if to meet
me. After a few springs I had passed the refracting angle, and, like a
thought, the shadowy giants vanished into the air.
The men had ridden forward after me, and having also passed the angle of
refraction saw no more of the phantom host.
The city, too, had disappeared; but we could trace the outlines of many
a singular formation in the trap-rock strata that traversed the edge of
the valley.
The tall groves were no longer to be seen; but a low belt of green
willows, real willows, could be distinguished along the foot of the
mountain within the gap. Under their foliage there was something that
sparkled in the sun like sheets of silver. It was water! It was a
branch of the Prieto.
Our horses neighed at the sight; and, shortly after, we had alighted
upon its banks, and were kneeling before the sweet spirit of the stream.