The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1903-12-26
WAYSIDE SKETCHES
IN ARIZONA.

Passing from the white farms of
Kansas and the big mines of Colorado
into the land of purple mesas and Mex
ican gamblers, it hardly seems possible
to the traveller that he is still in the
United States-in the big commercial
country of the nineteenth century.
Arizona is still on the frontier; not
a dangerous frontier, but frontier of
memory, a country unchanged since
Kit Carson led Fremont by the Pue-
bio villages the self-same border that
trembled at the warwhoop of Gero-
nimo, the Apache. The romance is not
gone, although the raiding days are
over. The Navajoes and Apaches still
ride into town to pawn their wam-
pun with the traders, and race their
tough little pones for the sake of the
bet.
The professional tourist and the del
icate woman of the East may ride
through on the train. and see the pet
rfied forests and the Grand Canon and
the painted Mojaves who sell beads
at the station. But there is a greater
attraction for the man who likes to
ride and to shoot, and to breathe the
deep air of the desert on his way
through a virgin land. Arizona from
the Pullman window is familiar to all,
but it is familiar in the same way that
Africa is to the globe-trotter sailing
around the Cape. Ten miles from the
rails brings one into a primeval land,
into a country of Indian trails and
painted deserts.
The only taste that the conventional
tourist ever aVails himself of is the
hard ride out to the Hopi reserva-
ton to see the Snake dance. This has
been so often described however, that
it should receive only passing notice
here.
But Arizona son dress parade is not
as attractive to the reader of viii
Drannan's scouting stories or those in
clined to adventure as the unknown
regions at the end of the sagebrush
and crossword trails, where the pic
turesque life of the Indian trader still
fingers as in the old days. For In
stance, two days ride from the Sante
Fe trail, over the beautiful but thirsty
desert, brings one to Dickens post
and an experience long to be remem-
bered Dickens is trader. He has
a fondness for the blankets the Navajo
makes so we'll. And for this reason he
made him an artesian well-an artificial
oasis on the line of Indian travel. He
sunk we'll. built his store. and laid
out a race course. Here the Indians
now gather to indulge their craze for
horse cling and betting.
Drop off at some side station in Arl-
iona, and you will see the sheriff
strolling around with a big revolver
sticking conspicuously out of his
breaches. Anybody will tell you about
bad men, and big hold-ups, but 1t is
really quite delightfully."- romantic With
out being dangerous. There was
blue-eyed little man from Tennessee,
who said he had seen New YORK
tough chase three men armed with re-
volvers through the town of Williams,
and UP on a red mesa, where he near
ly beat them to death. The shooting
DAYS are almost over. But the gam
bling days seem to have reached their
prime. If there is anything picturesque
or unique, wicked, or immoral about
gambling, it is all in Arizona. The
postoff1ce may be barn, and the hotel
a mud house, but out three hundreds
of miles over the mesas are found
Joints" of Partisan luxury. This is
no exaggeration. In one small town
there are three-the Palace, the Par
lor, and the Fashion. And while the
coyotes yell at the moon the cowboys
and populace gather in big, clean,
light and gay apartment-an apart
ment of mural decorations and stuc-
coed ceiling, with a rostrum at one
end where a girl in red paint plays
sweetly upon the 'peeaner," and
Speedy" Thurston rolls the ivory of
the roulette wheel, sitting behind
stack of silver dollars. His "pardner,"
the Duke" shakes dice into box as
big as a bed, and the Deacon" in
a tall hat and a black buster. shut
fies the deck and hands out chips to
whomsoever plays stud-poker. Nobody
says a word-puncher, Mexican, In
dian or tourist may saunter in and
play the red. The silver flows back and
40, Irxv l..
eran behind the bar eyes all strang-
ers with sullen suspicion.
A man may afford to miss the evils
of the gaming board. But there are
two characters in Arizona whom he
cannot afford to pass by. One is Al
Stephenson of Adamana, and the other
is Capt Hance. AL has a life of Incl
dent and interest to draw upon in his
stories; Capt. Hance needs neither.
His "reminiscences are comprehensive.
He only needs to know what the trav-
eler wishes to hear. AL has been a
ranger and a ranohero, an American
that Americans are glad TO see. If a
man is tired of the city and wants a
ride: If he is a student Of nature or
an Indian crank, if he is a lion hunter
or a trout fisherman, let him take the
train for Adamana, Ariz. AL will meet
him at the gate and welcome him into
his home.
TO the southwark is the agatiZed
forest-the famous petrifed pine for
est. Riding out over the level tracts
by the Aztec remains and the cliffs
where these curious antediluvians left
their incomprehensible hard-luck story
inscribed, one comes to the big red
polished logs, covering the face of the
earth below a big blue mesa, and q
httle white mountain of clay that
overlooks all creation TO a distant and
delusive horizon. Any one can 60 thus
far on the swift little ponies. It is ar
easy and exhilarating gallop out L
the natural bridge, where an old stone
log spans a little chasm which leads
down to a cave under the gray banI
to the petrified spring and Lovers Re.
treat. And any one with a Cheerful
disposition can sit In the long, COO
evening that follows and hear the old
plainsmen tell what little man know
OF the prehistoric people that made thu
curious old pottery he has dug out o
the desert.
But II a man gets In his right side
and shows he can stick 10 q bronch
ana shoot a Winchester. Al Stephenson
Will take him upon q trip that can
not be surpassed Ia all the West A
Is an Indian trader among other things
ana be Knows the Apaches as we'll q
any man may. He has known Their
since the day be first saw them, fore
warned ~ the distant smoke Of