The Negro world., 1892-07-23
IN The MOUNTAINS
Description of Nature In Her Most
Majestic Mood.

It was o'clock in the afternoon
when the bugle blew the welcome
sound, and the troop came to a halt
and prepared to make camp in little
/ pocket" high up in the Rincom noun
aims. II had been a hard, hot and
wearisome march over a sandy plain
and up rocky paths where the horses
could not safely carry their riders. with
the mercury at one hundred and ten
iegrees in the shade and the water in
the canteens so thoroughly impEeg-
mated with allzah that it was almost
impossible to drink it.. The spring that
bubbled out from under rock and
lost itself before it had travelled two
hundred feet through the dry rcclxs
and sand was refreshingly cool, clear
and inviting; the daily dowLpour
Of August had not yet made its ap
pearancc and the men congratulated
themselves that the clear sky gave
promise of a dry supper, even though
indicating drenehing later on.ZFor
turing the rainy season downpour
once in twenty-four hours can, like
taxes, be depended upon.
The tired horses were lariated out by
their riders whenever the seant herbage
gave promise of at least a portion o.
supper Fires blazed up from the arted
limbs of the stunted mesquite, ami cof-
fee, bacon and hard tack were soon
served. Supper over, and the stock
brought in and tied to the picket line,
the men sat down and smoked and gos-
siped and looked at their surroundings.
High on every side of them rose the
1reary mountains, their brown, b4Iren
nights pointing high up toward The sky,
the monotonous slopes gasbed and
slashed in thousand pieces by gullies
and ravines, the everlasting rocks and
sands only occasionally relieved by
patches of mesquite or stunted dwarf
oak. Scarcely a sound breaks the soil
tude; the neighisg ofa horse, the sharp
bark Of proyv ing coyote, hunting for
his suppeH the disturbing burr of
nearby rattlesnake, soon sent to his
long rest, mayhap the shrill cry of
mountain lion.
As the sun slowly sinks behind the
range he seems as if by balance weight
to bring a little dark cloud over the tops
of the opposite mountains. There is
scramble TO doff superfiuous clothing
and rush TO cover wetable things with
shelter tents and tarpaulins, while
every Oody from the cook to the captain,
seeks the lee side of friendly rock.
The horses are all on one side of the
picket line now, with their sides toward
the setting sun and their tails TO the
east. In ten minutes the little cloud
has assumed the proportions of vast
overhanging pail and the wind begins
to whistle. In fifteen minutes the sky
is like ink and the rain is rushing down
in torrents, and ten minutes later the
black clouds, vivid lightning and deep
sounding thunder are slSurrying over
the western range after the setting
sun, leaving behind as memento of
their visit, only magnificent rainbow,
spanning the heavens from horizon to
horizon, wet but cool and clipper
troop of horses, and big gulley through
the center of the camp where minia-
ture torrent has plowed its way during
the continuance of the storm. Assem-
bly, for the guard is sounded, and the
sentinels are posted.
Then, as Mr.. Haggard would put it,
might comes rushing down over the
earth like tangible thing" The moon,
big and round and silvery, comes smil-
ing up over the range and throws the
precipitous heights and dark gullies
into fantastic shapes, acceatuating what
little beauty they possess, apd hiding
their deformities, and, in time, glides
softly and almost imperceptibly behind
the high peak opposite, making room
for the countless stars which glisten
down through the clear, pure air from
as beautiful a sky as there is in the
world. The sentinel walks and walks.
and looks up into this magnificent vast
ness, and thinks. 1t is time of silence,
solitude, vastness, beauty, which would
lift a mans thoughts above the earth
and make them soar in regions beyond.
But the sentinel is probably trying to
think out scheme for liquidating his
debts with his pay, or wondering if he
will get enough bacon for breakfast,
and why the gray horse always persists
in hanging himself on the picket line.
Not sound disturbs him, except those
familiar ones of the movements of the
horses or the occasional call of a night
bird which exists. heaven only knows
how in the midst of all this barrenness.
Possibly it lives on the beauty of the
Arizona stars.
"Who comes there? Haltm
"Relief."
Advance. relief"
"All's we'll"
Or il may be:
"Who comes there? Halt"
"Ofiicer of the day"
Advance, officer OF the day"
"Ail's we'll"
And the new sentinel starts on his
monotonous round of the sleeping sol
diers and the restless horses, while the
stars twinkle and fash like diamonds
and the night bird calls. He sits on a
friendly rock and takes the risk of steal
ing seven winks of needed sleep, and
awakes, startled. from a doze Have
his sleepy eyes seen an Indian campfire
signal on a distant peak? Have his
drowsy ears caught the sounds made by
an approaching enemy? No, not that.
Something Is crawling up his leg. He
hopes ii is lizard He prays il may
be neither snake nor centipede. With
almost one motion he grasps the creep
ing thing. throws off his boot and
shakes his pantaloons and utters a
heartfelt. long-drawn sigh of relief as a
harmless and nearly crushed swift
slides to the ground.
So the long night wears away. The
stars begin to pale and the first gray
streaks Of dawn Green over the rnnsln-