The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1901-07-07

trail through Devils Gate into Skull
valley, ana up the Parieta mountains
that border the great desert.
A Whit of the hot air blows against
my face now as 1 think of it. and the
whole weird picture spreads out be-
fore me, as I threw myself that dav
from the saddle to rest nv weary
1 horse and put her into shape for the
long pull ahead 1 took OFF the saddle
and the pack that held my small ONT
mt, spOnged out her mouth from my
canteen, that 1 had filled at the last
water hole, twenty-eight miles away:
/ lit my pipe and looked about me to get
my bearings.
Through an opening in the arid
gulch out of which I had risen /
saw broad, cOIorless plain of burn
! ing sand. 1t was the desert, that vast
charHal house where the bones of
many lost man lie entOmbed in the
shifting sands. Out of this low. burn
ing desert rose abruptly the Parieta
range, high and very rugged, broken.
by volcanic eruptiOns and hard to pene-
trate-
Upon its rocky sides rose saguara
cactus twenty to thirty feet, with up
lifted branches like huge arms held
aloft- Amid these lone sentineIs of
the hills were paloverde trees. scrub
i've oaks, and green gTeaSe-WOOd. Civ
ing a sIckly Verdure to the brown
background of sun-scorched grass.
ing on live oaks. She was Mexican
mare that / had traded a meerschaum
pipe for with a Yuma Indian a year
before. She could keep the trail like
a scout, and scent a red devil half a
mile off.
The sun was dropping behind the
range, and impenetrable darkness
would soon fill the gorge. Under a
shadow Of a rock I camped, and at
sun-up headed for the trail again, but
after a hard climb, found that I had
missed it for one recently gone over
ashes from his smoked out pipe, and
the tracks Of a burro's cup foot.
saw no opening ahead, nothing but
towering cliffs on either hand. I was
vexed. I must be miles out Of my
course. l might even perish with
thirst This was fitting work for a
tenderfOOt, but for me-bahl
As we seemed about to bring up
against the rocky barrier I spoke
sharply to the mare, and she darted
hanging cliff, and there, completely
hidden by a Gordon of cliffs, was a
small fertile valley.
Ny surprise escaped in a low whis-
tie as 1 looked about and saw there,
in the rocky heart of Arizona, forty
miles from the nearest White man, a
low mud house of the Mexican build
and a band of sheep anC goats graz
ing on the banks of a. small water
course which trickled through the val
ley'S length.
1 rode nearer to the house and dis
mounted. Ny surprise increased, for
in the door stood a girl looking at me.
A Mexican girl, so beautiful that I
held my breath least she vanish like
the lovely creation of a dream, but
even as 1 gazed, with all the impetu-
OSity of her fiery brOwn-skinned race.
he rms
about the mare, and in soft Spanish
loaded her with caresses. Then she
turned a flashing black eye on me and
said: How came you by my horse,
senior AmericanO?"
Before / cgul6 HecOver from my as
constituent the cold muzzle Of a re
vOlver was thrust into my face, and
Wiry old Mexican, who had sprung out
of the piniOnS at my back, emphasized
it by a sharp click of the. trigger as he
cooked it, while imprecatiOns in Span
ISL fell from his tongue.
The beginning and end of every ejac-
uatlon was that / was a cursed rob
Der and horse thief, that the blessed
saints themselves could not save me
from his wrath: that had robbed
mi chiquita Paquita," his pretty little
Paquita, his daughter, Of her horse,
and then, saints above him, come I rid
ing into his valley The Little Valley
of the Birds, the very spot where the
holy monks from old Spain ages ago
had knelt and sang their TIE Deum
Laudamus. Had the Holy Mother ever
looked down on such audacity2
The girls excitement increased while
her father spoke The pupils of her
great eyes dilated and grew blacker
She held her splendid form erect, and
ner bare bosom rose and fell with her
quick. short breathing. Her low voice
quivered with passion. ds she laid a
restraining hand on his arm, and said;
Not yet, mi padre; he must die, but
not yet"
Then, slipping her arm through Be
nita's rein, she drew her father aside
and they held a whispered converse
ton under a banana tree. I have had
a good many close calls, but L am free
10 admit that was the most uncOm-
Portable quarter of an hour of my life.
knew It would be useless to attempt
to explain that I had not stolen the
mare, but had bought her of an In
dian, VINO evidently had stolen her.
To- MexiCans don't settle things in
that calm fashion Their blood is too
hot when aroused to listen TO calm
such a crisis is in being handy with
his gun, and not letting them get the
drop on him.
I drew my double-action from my
belt, and stood motiOnIess, waiting for
Them to make the next move I had
not long to wait Paquita called
Manuel and an old Indian came
quickly to her. She put the rein in
his hand and told him to PUT the mare
! in the corral, but Bonita was of an
other mind She kicked Justify and
dragged him toward me.
He raised his mead and our eyes met
in wOrdless recognition. Manuel was
q very old Indian with slight mix
/ ture Of Spanish blood. Two years be-
fore I had rescued him and a pack
mule loaded with supplies from the
Apaches- He had then showed every
/ evidence OF gratitude.
We had ridden over the mesa TO
gether. He had shared my supper. and
we had blown smoke from the same
pipe, which, according to Indian usage.
constitutes everlasting friendship. Then
at parting, he had put a chain made by
hand Of silver, with a curious charm of
Tattlesnake skin, about my neck, say
Ing that he belonged to the order Of the
snakes. e powerful secret society. and
to show my symbol and succor would
come to me.
I now pulled the chain into view
and his dark eyes lit up as he saw
I that I still wore it. and I knew that
/ Wnen the time for action came I could
count on him.
1 daughter, and, coming to within a few
/ feet Of me, said:
son Of blackness. prepare to defend
/ thyself. for shall, all glory to the
saint, kill thee. Thou hast robbed nv
| pretty little one, and that is death
/ Thou hast come into my Little Valley
/ Of the Birds, and that is death Rut