As the season approached for the exodus of homesteaders for the harvest
field, hurried preparations for the departure was made, the cistern was
completed, huge piles of sage brush was gathered for fuel and placed
conveniently near the house. Thus was Travis Gully's time taken up for
the next few days following the arrival of the campers at the well. Many
were the inquiring glances that were cast in the direction of the group
of glistening white tents. Parties of men could be seen going and
coming, morning and night, some walking, others mounted or in vehicles.
Once a band of what seemed to be loose horses was seen to be approaching
the home of the Gullys, but when within a short distance of the house a
mounted man, emerging from the tent village, followed them and turned
them westward, soon being lost in the sea of gray sagebrush, but not
before it was discovered that it was a pack train, going out for
supplies.
At last the day came when the mystery of their purpose was to be solved.
On his first trip to the well for water with which to fill his now
completed cistern, Gully noted a fact that had been overlooked by him on
the occasion of their visit to his home; each wagon and all the
equipment was stamped U. S. G. S. This fact, however, left no clue in
his crude mind as to who they were, and not until he saw one of the
party with an instrument on a tripod, mounted upon a small knoll near
the road to his home, did he awake to the realization of the fact that
they had something to do with a survey.
The task of filling the cistern consumed many days, and required
numberless trips to and from the well. During these frequent visits the
acquaintance of some of the men around camp was made and the information
was volunteered by one of their number that they were a party of United
States Geological Surveyors sent out by the Government to make a survey
of the desert with the view to ascertaining if it was feasible to
irrigate the region by gravity from some of the numerous lakes and
streams that lay hidden away in the mountains that surrounded the entire
valley.
Irrigation! So this was the reason for all this activity. Gully's heart
leaped at the sound of this magic word. Here was the realization of his
dream. It was to be--and why not? Was not the Government making the
survey, had not the authorities awakened to the fact that here was a
country of some seven hundred and fifty thousand acres of valuable land
laying idle. Why not convert it into homes for thousands, who, like
himself, though less venturesome, were dreaming of a home of their own.
With gladdened heart, forgetful of poverty and past disappointments, he
hurriedly filled his barrels with water and drove home eager to tell his
wife the good news.
"I knew it was coming," he told her. Had he not talked with the men who
had been sent to bring about this transformation? "Just think, Minnie,"
he exclaimed, "we are among the first. Others may follow, but we have
our land."
Water, bright sparkling water, flowing in rippling streams; all they
wanted; no more wearisome trips across the dry parched waste, with the
constant drum, drum of the empty barrels dinning in his ears--no more
return trips with the barrels filled at starting, but now sadly
depleted, and the wagon box reeking and dripping with the waste caused
by the splash, splash of the precious fluid. Irrigation--and a home of
his own.
A few days after the discovery of the object of the party encamped at
the well was made, it became generally known, and the glad news was
being discussed in every home throughout the sparsely settled
neighborhood. Men could be seen loitering around the camp or mingling
with the surveyors in the field, eagerly gathering such scraps of
information as was given out and hastily departing to add fuel to the
already inflamed imagination of the settlers.
It never occurred to them that even though the survey resulted in a
favorable report, it would probably take years before the accomplishment
of the purpose for which it was being made, and the added strain of
uncertainty, waiting and watching made the life of the homesteader more
unbearable.
When the morning came for the departure of the little band of harvesters
for the broad wheatfields of the big bend country, it was an unusual
sight that greeted the vision. It had been previously arranged that
they should assemble at the well and make that the starting point for
their journey. Small puffs of dust might be seen arising miles away,
each marking the approach of one or more of the sturdy homesteaders,
many of whom had made the trip the fall before and knew of the many long
hours of toil that awaited them. Yet they were marching forth, with grim
determination to put as many hours into each day as mortal man could
stand. It was their harvest as well as the wheat growers; their season
for retrieving the few hard-earned dollars lost in seeding and planting
during the spring just passed; theirs, to accumulate the necessary food
and clothing for the wives and little ones they were leaving behind in
the desert, to watch longingly for their return when the harvest was
ended.
The party with which Gully was going had decided to take one wagon with
four horses to convey their crew, with the camp equipment, to the grain
fields. The men came in every conceivable means of conveyance,
accompanied by a member or, in some instances, by the entire family, who
were to return with the rigs to their homes, after seeing them safely on
their way. Each came with his blanket roll neatly tied with a cord or
strap. Two dilapidated telescope grips, made of canvas, were provided to
carry the extra clothing of the party; a writing tablet and a package of
plain white envelopes, by means of which the messages, scribbled with
pencil, and often by lantern light, of love, sorrow, success or defeat,
were to be conveyed to the lonely ones in the desert wilds; a spool of
black cotton thread, some needles and a few extra buttons, for an
emergency, were carefully stored deep in one corner of the grip. All to
be used in common, all brothers in the wilds; there was no business
rivalry, no competition there; just an equal desire that all might live.
They were late in getting started, owing to the distance some of them
had to come, and when the last of the party rode up, seated upon a horse
fully harnessed, complaining that his delay was caused by the collapsing
of one of the wheels of his vehicle, the poor old weather beaten buggy
rendered unserviceable by its constant use on many trips to and fro
across the sandy waste; the spiteful particles of sand, gnawing, cutting
and grinding their way into each tiny crevice, between the rim and
spoke, into the hub and under the tire, until its wheels, after days,
weeks and months of rattling, squeaking and groaning, could no longer
stand the strain, the inanimate thing sank helplessly down, to be cast
to one side, among the harsh, rasping sagebrush, and left there to
sizzle, shrink and bleach in the blistering sun rays, until called for
and taken helplessly back to the home of its owner for repairs, in the
way of having hard bits of sun parched leather, cut from well worn and
discarded shoes, forced between its once perfectly fitting rim and tire,
the whole being wound and rewound with the indispensable balewire. Such
an end; what could be expected of a thing of flesh and blood?
"Never mind," cried his waiting companions, cheerfully. "You can soak
the old critter up in the irrigation ditch pretty soon." And with this
merry jest, at the same time recalling to their minds the condition of
their own means of conveyance, and also one of the many uses to which
the abundance of water could be put when once turned loose, to run
rampant across the stretch of barren waste. They prepared to start on
their journey.
Each of the party, with sad heart and quivering voice, all doing their
best to present an indifferent exterior, bade the waiting members of
their families, the gathered neighbors, and the members of the survey
crew a hearty goodbye, and drove northward, knowing full well that their
toilsome progress across the valley would be followed by tear stained
eyes and aching hearts, until the evening shades settled and the thin
spiral column of dust, watched for a time after the object which caused
it to mount high into the heated atmosphere had been hidden by a cloak
of darkness.
The first night out the travelers spent at a small spring that flowed in
a feeble stream down the rock ledge that formed the northern boundary of
the desert, and sank from sight, being swallowed by the thirsty sands.
It was a hard drive that brought them to this place, and during the
hours that intervened between their departure from the well and arrival
at their first camp, was spent in almost silence. Each of those present
seemed lost in silent contemplation of the difficulties that confronted
him. Various subjects had been brought up for discussion, followed for a
few moments, and then were allowed to drop. All except Travis Gully, who
was driving, seemed lost to their surroundings.
It was a varied assortment of which this little group of men was
composed, taken at random from various points, from different walks of
life, no common interest in the way of mechanics or profession, yet
bound together by stronger ties, a mutual understanding of each other's
absorbing ambition to build a home; appreciating to the fullest extent
the difficulties and hardships endured, the disappointments and
suffering caused by the one common affliction, poverty.
There was the muscular iron molder from Pittsburg, who would sit, with
half closed eyes, and liken the heat of the desert to the fiery glow of
the familiar furnaces; the clouds of dust to the dense smoke of his home
city, and ask himself: "Had he moved wisely?" The pressman, from one of
the largest printing establishments in Denver, who would in dreamy
silence listen to the constant clatter of the wagon, and in fancy
hearing the rumble of his once favorite machine, the press, rolling out
in endless sheets items of news, gathered from all over the world;
suddenly the wagon wheel strikes a stone, and with a lurch, he starts
with outstretched hand to adjust a roller, replace a belt, or take up
the torn web. Smiles feebly at his absentmindedness and resumes his
seat. The professor, who for years taught in a college in Kansas,
watched with earnest gaze each specimen of desert plant life that
struggled for existence beside the dusty road, unable to release himself
from the desire to increase his botanical knowledge. An exsoldier and
Travis Gully, the farmer, completed this incongruous party.
Upon their arrival at the spring just before sundown, they arose from
their seats in the wagon, cramped and dusty from their long ride, and
shambling to the rock ledge, relieved their parched throats with copious
draughts from the spring. Knowing that the scarcity of water on the road
over which their route lay would necessitate a forced drive on the
morrow, they hastily unharnessed the horses, gave them water and
picketed them to munch the scant herbage until sufficiently cooled to be
given their ration of grain, they then prepared their own frugal supper,
after which, with pipes lit, and each seated around the smoldering
sagebrush fire, their faces turned homeward, watched the shades of
evening settle, and noted the twinkling lights that shone from their
humble homes miles away across the level plain. Conversation no longer
lagged; each was eager to express his views as to the result of the
survey now being made, and the certainty of the wealth to follow the
reclamation of the thousands of acres of fertile land that lay stretched
for miles to the south. No one doubted for a moment but what it would
come. Was not each of the railroads that extended across the great
Continental Divide, advertising the fertile valleys of the Northwest as
the goal of the poor man? Was not every Commercial Club in the cities
through which these avenues of commerce and forerunners of civilization
ran, sending out and scattering among the inhabitants of the entire
territory from the Atlantic seaboard to the Rocky Mountains, pamphlets
in which was set forth, in glowing word pictures, accounts of the
possibilities of the undeveloped lands now laying idle, yours for the
asking? Were they not morally responsible for the welfare of each family
who, lured by their flattering descriptions, had given up their means of
a livelihood, and sold their small accumulation of personal property, in
most instances for what they could get; frequently scarcely enough to
reach this land of dreams, and at best with but a few hundred dollars?
Would these mighty forces that were being brought to bear for the
purpose of converting the undeveloped resources of this vast country
into a merchantable article, going to accomplish their end by the
sacrifice of thousands of human ambitions, and even lives? Certainly
not; give them a chance.
This survey was being made with the view to placing within the reach of
the settlers the means whereby wealth and affluence might be obtained.
Such was the opinion of all, and with optimistic views and hopes
renewed, the blankets were unrolled and spread upon the bare ground, and
with a cheery "Goodnight," each of these champions of right and justice
lay down to enter the enchanted land of dreams, and live through the
realization of all they had hoped for.
Just before daylight the following morning all were astir and the horses
fed, and with the never to be forgotten acrid smell of burning sagebrush
permeating the cool air, which, gathered amid the eternal snows that lay
undisturbed for ages on the glistening sides of the mountain peaks to
the west, was wafted and filtered through miles of spruce and pine
forests and delivered in all its exhilerating morning freshness to fill
with health and vigor the lungs of these conquerors of the wilderness;
breakfast was eaten, blankets rolled, and just as the rosy tint of the
pitiless sun shone in the east, the start was made.
The road which had led them for weary miles across the desert the
afternoon before came to an abrupt ending at the spring. The solid cliff
of basaltic rock formed an impassible barrier to the north. There seemed
no reason for the road leading squarely up to the ledge other than to
gain access to the scant water supply the small spring afforded, this
spot having been for years the stopping place for weary travelers and
hordes of thirsty stock. No road leading from the spring being visable,
a return drive was made until a road leading directly east was
encountered. This road was followed for several miles, when a break in
the range of hills afforded an exit verging a little to the northeast.
After a few miles the road turned directly north again, leading into a
break in the barrier of hills and out through a coulee to the plateau,
where lay the wheat fields that were the destination of the little band
of harvesters.
The trip through the coulee, once made, would never be forgotten.
Immediately at the entrance of the funnel like gorge, with its
precipitous walls of stone towering in heights from a few hundred to two
thousand feet, the way seemed blocked by a lake several miles in length.
Clear and cool it lay, constantly lashed into fury by the strong
current of air rushing from the chasm above. The white, foam crested
waves, spending their force upon the sandy shore at the lower end,
retreating after each attack, leaving behind a deposit of white frothy
foam that was picked up by the wind and scattered far beyond the reach
of the next incoming wave, there to be dried by the sun, and the
residue, a white crystal, powdered salts, left sparkling in the
sunlight. Nothing in the way of vegetation except a species of harsh
quackgrass grew within the radius covered by this deposit. The waters of
this lake possessed strong mineral properties that were fatal to plant
life, also rendering it extremely nauseating and unfit for drinking.
Owing to this fact, it had been known to the Indians of Chief Moses'
tribe as "Poison Water." Yet cool and sparkling it lay, a gem in the
barren gulch, relieving the eye of those who chanced to pass that way,
but often proving a sad disappointment to both the travel worn man and
beast, who, unacquainted with its peculiar qualities, upon first
beholding its rippling surface, hastened to its brink to appease a
desert born thirst.
As the lake was approached by the party, the members of which had
previously heard of its existence and the nature of its waters, no stop
was made. A passage around it was sought and soon discovered in a well
worn trail that followed a dry ravine which led down to the lake, and
extending around its head, reentered the coulee some miles above. They
continued their journey along this ravine, the route being marked at
intervals by the bleached bones of animals which had perished of thirst
within a short distance of abundance of cool dear water that a caprice
of nature had rendered, like fools gold, alluring, but of no value.
For fifteen or twenty miles the road ran tortuously among the huge
boulders that had fallen from the crest of the solid walls that arose
hundreds of feet on either side, the crevices and nooks of which were
the haunts of the rattlesnake and lizard. The projecting ledges that
occasionally occurred showed signs of being the nesting place of
hundreds of hawks that circled in an aimless manner at dizzy heights
above this giant crevice. Limpid pools of alkaline water lay teeming
beneath the blistering suns rays, their white salty rim unmarked by the
footprints of any living thing, accursed by nature and abhorred by all
God's creatures, wasting their contents by evaporation during the
summer, and replenished by the torrents that rushed through this
abandoned water course during the annual spring thaw.
That it had been a water course was evidenced by the beds of well worn
gravel, devoid of all soil, and the marks of the constant wash of the
waves on the face of the cliffs on either side. Who knows but what at
some remote period the mighty Columbia river had flowed through this
grand coulee, emptying into an inland sea, the bed of which now formed
the desert of almost a million acres, destined to be the home of half as
many people? Flowing thus for ages, nourishing plants now unknown; its
limpid waters, cooling and refreshing the prehistoric monsters that
came daily to drink at its brink; sheltering beneath its rippling waves
species of fish now extinct, their fossalized forms only remaining to
remind us of the mighty changes that have taken place. Flowing
peacefully on, secure in its mightiness, yet all the while somewhere
along its course was being assembled the power that wrought this change,
the terrific force in the nature of gases generated far in the depths of
the earth. It might be thousands of miles away, conducted through
unknown channels and crevices, seeking the point of least resistance,
forced hither and thither by the ever increasing pressure, until a
subterranean cavity is formed by a slight upheaval or displacement of
the stratification. Into this rush the gases, followed by the raging
fires, until further resistance is impossible. The imprisoned demon
crouches in narrow confines, trapped at last; and with a mighty shudder,
the effects of which are felt on the surface, causing the ponderous
mastodon to halt unsteadily, and raising his gigantic head in alarm,
sounds a note of warning, and followed by his herd, rushes madly through
the mass of huge ferns in search of safety.
The imprisoned force, no longer able to confine its strength, furiously
gathers its reenforcement, and with terrific, thunderous roar, forces
the crust and breaks through, tearing asunder this sphere that has taken
eons to form, disgorging in fiery torrents upon the surface of half a
continent the contents of its seething cauldron.
Back rush the floods of the Columbia, as if aghast at the havoc wrought;
stays its flow but for a moment, and charges this indomitable foe that
dares to impede its progress, and pours its waters, now made black and
muddy by the tons of ashes and stone sent hurtling into its waves, into
the thousands of crevices and fissures trying in vain to throttle this
fiery demon who greets the oncoming stream with flaming tongue, converts
it into steam and additional power with which it throws out huge volumes
of mud that seal the crevices and cool the lava about its glaring
throat, thus using its enemy to erect a barrier against itself.
Hopelessly defeated, the mighty river seeks a course whereby it may
reach its former terminus, the inland sea. It wanders on with
indefatigable persistence, taking the abandoned beds of some of its
former tributaries; follows it until overtaking the original stream at
some unaccustomed place, absorbs it and hurries on its way over boulders
and through canyons and gorges, rapids and cataracts harrassing its
waters in a manner heretofore unknown. In its wild flight it makes a
detour of more than a hundred miles, appropriates the channel of another
stream, and turns back toward the inland sea, still determined to do its
part in replenishing this vast storage place.
Upon reaching its western boundary, oh! what a change had taken place.
Stretching away as far as could be seen was a mass of oozing matter,
decaying seaweed and pools of slimy water, heated to almost boiling,
reeking with the stench of dead fish, the whole being sprinkled with
cinders and ashes, and teeming with muck and filth.
A break in the southern boundary of the former body of water showed
where a fissure had been opened up, through which its contents had
drained, following the outlet until it had emptied into the Pacific
Ocean. The noble Columbia, unable to gain access to refill the basin,
took up the course of the liberated deluge and followed resignedly in
its wake.