Originally this was a foot trail; then horses, burros and mules were used; and now, in some portions of its distance, notably from Moenkopi to Oraibi, it is used for wagons.

A Six Day Journey. Let us leave the home of the Havasupais and go on a visit to the Hopis. Our trip into Havasu Canyon is described in another chapter. I discussed the matter with several of the leading Havasupais, and they told me that the trip will be arduous and long. How long? Five, six days!

A Side Trail. But before starting I decided to see one of the outlets to Havasu Canyon, that used to be a part of the old trail, and that was used as an inlet when General Crook and his soldiers came there. The trail is called after a spring bearing the name Pack-a-tha-true-ye-ba. Never did I have such a sense of the maze of canyons contained in this system of canyons as on that trip. My guide was Sinyela, one of the most intelligent Indians of the whole tribe. We left the Havasupai village early one morning, each riding an Indian pony, with all the provisions we thought we should need on our saddles. After awhile, we entered a side canyon I had never before explored. During the whole of that day we toiled, riding as hard as we could over the almost trackless canyon floor; trailing through deep sand; climbing over masses of boulders that freshets or cloud-bursts had. piled between the walls; forcing our way through dense willows; scratched by thickets of mesquites. Again and again in the walls were seen cliff-dwellings and corn storage houses. The heat was intense, and radiated from the precipitous walls on either side.

The Camp at Night. When night came, we ate our frugal meal, our horses standing by waiting to be hobbled and turned loose. For beds, we had the nearest layer of sand we could find, with our saddles for pillows.

Suffering from Thirst. Early in the morning we started again, winding and curving with the course of the Canyon. For nearly two days we had been without fresh water, and the little we had brought in our wicker-woven, pinion-gum-covered esuwas had to suffice for our needs. Suddenly we entered a vast amphitheatre, with a rude arch at the end. It was flower-covered, with occasional trees, and here, hidden from any but the view of an Indian, was found a tiny spring of coolest, purest water. How we enjoyed it!

A Dangerous Slope. On the third day, we came to the place where the soldiers descended from the plateau above into the depths of the Canyon. There was no well-defined trail, and the slope was steep enough to make one's flesh creep. The site was marked with disaster. Here a pack mule had slipped, fallen, and been dashed to pieces; there a man had fallen and been killed. It was a difficult descent, but nerve and pluck had accomplished it. Beyond was the Pack-a-tha-true-ye-ba Spring, and after seeing its water I determined that we must return.

Capturing Wild Ponies. On our way back, Sinyela made a proposition that, as our ponies were exceedingly weary, we catch some fresh ones of his, for this was his "stock range," and he knew where there were plenty of good animals. The horses were wild, as range horses generally are, but Sinyela was crafty. He knew of a blind ravine, or rocky pocket, into which we could drive the horses we needed, and to that end all our energies were directed. Darting back and forth to arrest the dodging and fleeing animals, we at length succeeded in "penning" about a dozen horses in the pocket. Then I watched Sinyela, hand extended, slowly and stealthily approach the pony he needed. Time and again, as he got nearer and nearer, all the time making a peculiar sissing sound, the horse would suddenly swing around and endeavor to dash away. But I was "guard of the gate," and it was my business to see that none of the band escaped. It took us fully two hours to catch the two horses. At last they were ours. Neither was well broken, though both had been ridden, and the first thing Sinyela did was to blindfold them. The saddles were removed from our jaded ponies, and placed upon the new ones. The starts of terror and anger showed what we had ahead of us. Bridles were adjusted, and then, with our fresh ponies still blindfolded, we sprang into our saddles. When our feet were firmly placed and all was ready, we lifted the blinds from the horses' eyes and then braced ourselves. Digging our heels into the ponies' sides, off we started, at a jerking, bounding, half-bucking pace. Shouting directions to each other, helter-skelter, over and around boulders, we dashed along as if we were after the hounds on a genuine old-fashioned fox-hunt. I suppose we kept it up a full hour, at topmost speed. The horses didn't want to stop, and Sinyela knew that the best way to break them was to let them have their own way. But before the day was over, the ponies were considerably tamed down, and it was a weary band that stopped for camp that night. The animals were duly hobbled and turned loose; I lit a camp fire, though we had nothing to cook and no kettle for boiling water, and dirty, dusty, with every nerve and fibre of my body weary and aching, I finally stretched out on the solid earth and wooed "balmy sleep." The ride was resumed next day. We finally got ourselves to Sinyela's camp in safety, where a sweat-bath and a swim in the delicious waters of Havasu fully rested us.

The Hopi Trail Ascent. We decided to leave Havasu Canyon by way of the "Make" Trail. This is the same trail as that described in the chapter on the descent into Havasu Canyon from El Tovar, as far up as the point where the pictured rocks appear. Here the Hopi trail turns and follows the course of the main Havasu Canyon. Cushing counted forty-four knots in his buckskin fringe from the village to the exit, each knot denoting an abrupt curve or angle in the winding canyons. The Topocobya Trail descends a sheer cliff of stupendous majesty, and the Wallapai Trail is enough to shatter the nervous system of any but the most experienced; but the Hopi Trail ascent out of the Canyon is different, in that, in several places, it passes through narrow clefts, with ponderous, overhanging rocks, the whole course barely wide enough to permit a laden mule to get through with its pack. It is an almost vertical ascent of about twelve hundred feet which winds around and up the clefts, up steps hacked out of the solid rock with flint axes and hammers, by the patient hands of long-dead Indians.

The Legend of Ahaiuta. The Hopis and the Zunis believe this to be the spot where the Zuni god; Ahaiuta, one of the twin gods of war, after the waters of the world had arisen and overwhelmed the nations of their ancestry, and flooded the whole earth from the far west to the Rio Grande, dug a little outlet for the waters. The flood, finding this hole, had rushed down into the interior of the earth, and had thus worn this terrific cleft, and the gorge below, leaving the marks of its strife upon the banded rocks which surrounded and hovered over us.

Now we scrambled over great rocks, then along a foot-wide trail, and at length wound our way out along a massive bank of talus. Around at the head of the trail, I sent Sinyela back, and started alone along the historic trail across the plateau. The general scenery of the plateau already has been described.

A Roundabout Drive. At this point, I prevailed upon Mr. Bass to hitch two horses and two mules to his ambulance (which had once been a United States Army ambulance and was used in his Arizona campaigns by General Nelson A. Miles), and drive—a roundabout way to the northeastern slopes of the San Francisco range, thence to the Little Colorado River, where we would again strike the Hopi trail from Moenkopi to Oraibi. There were four of us in the party. From the rim of the Canyon direct to the Little Colorado the route is, at present, inaccessible for wagons. It is a horse trail, and somewhat of the same nature as all the plateau trails through the Kohonino (Coconino) Forest. Hence our roundabout wagon trip.

On the Fringe of the Painted Desert. Filling our canteens to the nozzle, we drove over the western fringe of the Painted Desert. Skirting the mountain, we made a "dry camp" that night, and used up every drop of water next morning. Some went for our coffee, and the rest was given to the animals. Then we started for the far-away Tanner Crossing of the Little Colorado, across the thirsty desert. As we were without water, it was natural that, on that particular day, the elements should combine to make it hotter than usual. A few clouds sprang into existence, but we felt no breath of cooling air, and as the day grew, the clouds became burning glasses to focus the sun's heat more powerfully upon us. Late in the afternoon, our eyes were delighted with the sight of what seemed to be a pool of water, in the road ahead of us. Parched almost to keen suffering, we drove our weary and thirsty horses right into it, scaring away, as we did so, several horses that were standing there, and then, not waiting for cups or ceremony, each man threw himself flat on his stomach and began to drink the uninviting compound. A heavy shower had fallen in this one spot, and the pool had not yet had time to evaporate.

A Dash Across the Little Colorado. The day was sultry and betokened a heavy rain storm, so, when we reached the Little Colorado, we decided to get over that night, since, if the storm came, it might render crossing impossible. Our ambulance was heavily laden, and the crossing dangerous. Before I ventured, we unloaded about half the weight, and then I undressed, save for my undershirt, and went to investigate the bed of the crossing for quicksands. As soon as I had determined where to drive, we started across.

Whipping up the mules, and keeping their necks well into their collars, we dashed across in safety. Immediately the wagon was unloaded, I turned it around and crossed alone. The remainder of the load was put in, with our two men, and, one of them seated by my side with the whip, we "yelled" ourselves across again. Our wagon was stopped in a sandy drift, our grub box thrown out, a fire lighted, and with the impending storm in close proximity, we hurriedly cooked and ate our evening meal. No sooner was my plate cleared than, taking my roll of blankets, I wearily threw them down not more than ten feet from the wagon, too utterly "played out" to seek shelter in the cliff beyond, where a number of cave-like shelves afforded good level sleeping places, secure from the storm. As I unrolled my blankets, I called to the men to be sure to put out the camp fire and place the sugar sack, etc., in the grub box and close the lid. I was no sooner stretched out than I was sound asleep.

A Storm at Night. One of my companions insisted upon unrolling his blankets close to me, in spite of the fact that a terrible storm might break over us at any time. Poor fellow! He had scarcely gotten to sleep when a frightful gust of wind swept down upon us. Awakened with the noise, my eye caught a glimpse of the flaming brands from the fire being tossed into the wagon, and I rushed to the rescue. In a fierce wind, with a wagon and its contents dried out by the fierce Arizona sun, I knew there was not a moment to lose. Fortunately, I had left a pail, of water close by, and with this I doused out not only the flames in the wagon, but the remnant of the camp fire. It was pitch dark by now. All at once, with a light that was blinding in its intensity, and with a terrible clap of thunder, the storm burst upon us. It was, without any question, one of the fiercest short storms, accompanied with the most vivid lightning, I have ever seen. The darkness was so black, that, like that of Egypt during the plague, it seemed almost as if it might be felt. With a suddenness that was awe-inspiring, it became light as noonday. The lightning was of a brilliant, violet tint, and shone with fervent intensity. And it was not merely a few flashes. It came down in millions of jagged streaks, completely filling the heavens to the horizon in every direction.

A Frightened Traveler. In one of these blinding flashes, I caught sight of my neighbor. His face wore an expression of anguish. In his dread he had arisen, and had tried to pick up his clothes and blankets, in the hope of reaching shelter. In one of the sudden lulls of the tempest, I heard him talking to himself: "Shall I ever live through this awful night? Can I get to those cliffs? Why doesn't some one come to help me? I'm going to die. There's no help for it!" Taking advantage of the next flash, I picked up my blankets and carried them to the cliffs; then returned to him, gathered up his belongings, and urged him to follow me. As soon as he was secure, I spread out my sopping wet blankets in the first space I could find. Wet through as I was, I rolled myself up in my wetter blankets, and soon should have been asleep, had it not been for the moanings of the man I had rescued. He wished he hadn't come; he was sure the exposure would kill him, and he wondered why people were such fools as to take unnecessary trips. Just then the storm waters from above, seeking their accustomed drainage channels, found their way down to a rock which overhung my sleeping-place as a rude spout, and began to pour upon me in bucketfuls. Yet I vowed I would never admit that my sleep was in the slightest disturbed. So I turned over in my watery bed, and kept up the play until morning came, while the angry man complained the entire time. Funny? In spite of my own misery, it was funny enough to make a burro laugh.

Two Days' Rest. It took us a couple of days to get well dried out, which we spent at Tuba City, a Mormon town since abandoned by order of the Courts, which found that it was illegally located on an Indian reserve. Then we enjoyed a day or two at Moenkopi, watching the Hopi Indians at their interesting occupations, caring for their fields, and preparing to go on to Oraibi, forty miles distant, where the Snake Dance was soon to occur.

Camp at Blue Canyon. The heat was fearful—it was the middle of August -and the sand made hard pulling for the horses. It was late in the evening before we reached Blue Canyon. The road was uncertain, so we camped on the rim above, leading our animals down, as best we could, to a Navaho hogan, where we thought we might get water and some cornstalks for them. We got both, and then decided to hobble the animals and turn them loose in the Canyon, while we returned to our wagon above. The wind had come up, and was blowing fiercely, so, in the dark, I chose for a sleeping place a piece of ground that was somewhat sheltered from it. It was irregular, rocky and rolling, and as the wind continued to blow, the fine sand blew over and on to my face, while the coarser sand settled into my blankets. It was not a refreshing and comforting night.

An Exciting Descent. In the morning, when we went down for our animals, we found that they had broken through the flimsy fence of the Navaho, and had worked considerable havoc in his corn-patch. The Navaho grumbled and gesticulated, and showed unmistakable anger, but I took the matter coolly and, after seeing the extent of the damage, quietly asked the head of the family: "Tu-kwe peso?" (How many dollars?) On receiving his answer, I offered to give him sugar and flour to that amount. We became friends at once, and he invited us to bring our wagon down and spend the day with him. As we were all wearied, we decided to do so. To save going around by the wagon road, he showed us a quicker way of descent. It was a sand bank not quite vertical, but as nearly so as ever any one drove down and lived to tell the tale. So, harnessing the animals, we brought the wagon to the edge of this sandy descent; then, tying all the wheels securely, so that they would drag, all of us holding on to the hind axle and with weights trailing behind, the whole mass went over. Though we threw ourselves into the sand and held on to our ropes, it was only by expert driving that the animals were kept from being crushed.

Experience with a Navaho Pilot. The next day we pushed on to Oraibi, piloted by a Navaho. When we reached the western side of the mesa, I decided to go up the foot trail directly to the village, so as to have water and corn fodder awaiting the animals, when they got safely around to the eastern side. The Navaho got it into his head that the wagon was to be driven up the slope on to the mesa, an impossible thing without making a road. There was a trail for horses and burros, however, and the driver yielded to the Navaho's guidance. At last a sheer cliff was reached, up which only trail stock could possibly go. There the party was, with four saddle animals harnessed to a wagon, in a cul de sac, consisting of a spot barely large enough for the wagon to stand on, a deep precipice on the right, a steep cliff ascending on the left, and the animals ahead on a sandy slope as steep as the one we had descended at Blue Canyon, a day or two before. Fearful for the safety of animals and wagon, the only course was retreat. A crude road was built, and, after tying wheels and trailing ropes on as before, with the help of a number of Indians who had come to look on, the whole outfit was lowered to the level below in safety.

An Unforgetable Memory. Thus we had come over a large part of the historic Hopi trail, never designed or planned for a wagon, with our ambulance; and the memories of the trip, arduous though it was, linger in the mind, side by side with experiences of the Snake Dance, and other unforgettable and delightful remembrances.



CHAPTER XXI. The Navaho And His Desert Home

The Navaho Reservation. To see the Navaho in the Hopi House making silverware, or watch his wife weaving blankets, is one thing. To see him on his native heath in the heart of the Painted Desert—is another. With the conveniences of travel now made possible by the excellent equipments of the El Tovar transportation department, any visitor who is not afraid of a strenuous trip may now visit these people with the minimum of discomfort. Indeed, the Navahos and Hopis may be seen together, on the one excursion described in an earlier chapter. The Navahos are the warlike nomads of the desert. They occupy an extensive reservation in northern Arizona and New Mexico, that adjoins the Hopi reservation on the north and east. They now number some twenty thousand souls, and are slowly on the increase. They are proud, independent, and desirous of being left alone by the United States Government.

Punishment for Depredations. In the early days, before they had learned the power of the new people who had flocked into the land, they committed many depredations upon Americans, and when remonstrated with were insolent and defiant. So an expedition was sent against them, and large numbers—the major portion of the tribe were arrested and moved near Fort Bayard—the Bosque Redondo—in New Mexico, on the Pecos River. Here the conditions were so adverse that many scores of them died, and when, finally, they were allowed to return, it was an humbled people that wended its way back to the high mesa lands they had for so many centuries called their own.

Navaho Customs. Linguistically, the Navaho is akin to the Apache and the Tinneh of Alaska; indeed, he calls himself Tinne. In winter he lives in a rude shelter of logs and mud called a hogan. In summer this is changed for a simple brush stack, which affords shade from the sun, and yet allows free course of the cooling air. He is a polygamist, and lives with his one or more wives, as he can afford. His chief industries are cattle, horse and sheep-raising. The latter supply his wife (or wives) with the wool needed for blanket-weaving, which is her chief industry.

Navaho Superstition. The Navaho is superstitious about several things: If any one dies in the hogan it is henceforth "tabu." The body is burned and the building with it, and whatever fragments of poles, etc., withstand the fire are regarded with distrust.

Dislikes and Fears. Another tabu of the Navaho is his fear of seeing his mother-in-law. Whenever she comes in sight, he disappears. Technically he never sees her, and I have often had great fun in trying to bring them together. Fish is another object placed under the Navaho ban. He will neither eat, see, nor smell fish, if he can help it.

Essentially Religious. He is an essentially religious being, and has a large number of ritualistic ceremonies. He has many dances for various purposes, the most exciting of which is locally known as the HoshKon. It is a healing ceremony. Dr. Matthews calls it the Mountain Chant. It requires many days for its complete performance, and one of its final ceremonies consists of a wild fire dance which is thrilling in the extreme.

Superior Horsemanship. But perhaps it is in his every-day horsemanship that the Navaho shows himself the superior man. Oftentimes he introduces feats of skill on a horse into his ceremonies. A few years ago at Tuba City, I saw a large band of Navahos unite with the Hopis in their dances and ceremonies of harvest thanksgiving. The Hopi director of the dances was Mootchka, whose costume was as astoundingly frightful as he could possibly make it. His naked body was smeared over with whitewash, some of which adhered and some of which did not. On his head was a mass of rudely woven black wool, crowned with the duplex pads of some wild flower. Around the waist was a similar black wool mat, fastened on with a Navaho belt of silver disks. When all was ready the dancers began. The trader's store-yard was the plaza, and the roofs of all the buildings on the three sides of the square were covered with Navaho spectators. Hour after hour they continued. Some of the dancers were decorated, others were in ordinary costume, but all danced and sang with fervor.

Dancing. The chief instrument was a large drum, made by hollowing out a section of a tree trunk, and covering the ends with rawhide, which were tightly laced on with strips of the same material. The dull monotonous thump of the drum kept time, while dancers sang and rattled. Their songs are invocations to "Those Above" to continue their good gifts, and at the same time accept thanks for all that had been given. One dance was particularly beautiful. It was supposed to represent the movements of the planets in and out of the fixed stars. Two little girls, brightly and beautifully dressed, waving feather plumes in their hands, threaded their way in and out of the lines of the dancers, themselves moving with an easy graceful swing.

Origin of Dances. To seek to penetrate the origin of these dances is to find ourselves in the darkness of antiquity. Almost all Indian peoples have the firmly fixed notion that the gods can be propitiated only by these exhausting dances. Consequently they are not performed by a few professional dancers, or even by certain families; all the people must dance. The smallest child, as soon as he is able to understand, must take his place with the elders, and the women and girls enter into the dances with the same religious fervor and zeal that is displayed by the men. And there is none of that sex enjoyment injected into their sacred dances, as there is in the white man's pleasure dances. The Indian men dance together, and the Indian women together, or, where both sexes participate, men are in one row and women in another. So that Indian dances are not pleasure dances. Neither are they competitive. There is none of the negro cake-walk idea connected with them, nor the Italian peasant's carnival, where rivals dance to gain the applause of the village.

Gifts Thrown to Spectators. During these dances at Tuba, gifts of corn, squash, melons, flour, cloth of native texture, and loaves of unleavened bread were brought and given with accompanying prayers to Mootchka, the leader. Then, at certain times, these were thrown among the spectators and eagerly caught, for not only were the articles themselves to be desired, but there accompanied them the prayers of the original donors, which, in some subtle manner, were supposed to bring good fortune to the final recipients.

The "Rooster" Race. The next day the Navahos had their turn. The two leading chiefs selected a suitable site, and, taking a rooster, buried it up to the neck in sand. The running course was soon cleared, and excited Indians on horseback lined up on either side for half a mile. Horseflesh of all kinds known to the Indians (from fleet, wiry steeds that had won many a prize, to broken-down cayuses fit only for the boneyard) was to be seen. The riders were decked in all the gorgeousness they could afford. Silk bands were around jet black masses of hair; calico of rainbow colors was made into garments, here and there overshadowed by a beautifully woven and exquisitely patterned native blanket. Around the waist of many of the men were leathern belts, to which were attached large silver disks worked by native silversmiths; and rings, bracelets, necklaces and earrings of similar work abounded.

Beginning of the Fun. The competitors were soon gathered together at one end of the course. The chiefs stated the conditions upon which the prizes must be won, and a signal was given. Like a shot, a rider darted out from the mass toward the tiny head of the buried rooster, stooping over from the saddle as he neared the bird, with fingers of the right hand extended, the left hand holding the bridle and clutching the horse's mane. With a sweep, sudden as it was delicate, he tried to catch the rooster's head between his extended fingers. He failed, but dashed on, for another horse and rider were at his heels, and another and another; the string seemed endless. Now and again one would touch the bird, or would actually catch the head, but the body was too securely buried to be pulled out easily. Cheers would ascend as the riders showed approximate success. Sometimes a horse would shy, and the white visitor looked for nothing less than a broken neck for his rider. But, laughing and shouting, the athletic and careless Indian would swing himself into the saddle, and in a few rough jerks teach the unruly animal to recognize a master. Of course, long before this, the rooster was dead, for at the first strong clutch his neck was broken, so that there was no unnecessary torture. The stream of riders flowed on, and at last one lucky fellow gave the right kind of a pull, and out came the rooster, to be swung around his head with a fierce yell of triumph.

Pursuit of the Victor. Now the real sport begins. With a shout that only Indian lungs can produce, every rider darts after the possessor of the rooster, and for an hour, more or less, it is a question of hard riding, dodging, evading, whirling to and fro. Over the sand-hills they go, pursued and pursuers, yelling and shouting like demons. The victor's horse seems to know all about the sport. He watches and dodges and doubles, like a hunted hare. Now a stalwart ruffian has caught the rooster carrier, and hangs on like grim death, while he is beaten over head and breast and shoulders with the rooster as a weapon. Others join in. Surely someone will get hurt! Watch the horses. They nip and pinch each other, and squeal with pain and anger. Ah, the winner still keeps his prize! Again he is caught, and this time it seems as if he must succumb. But his horse helps him out and, by clinging desperately to the horn of the saddle and his horse's mane, he wrests himself away from his pursuer, aided by the shying of the pursuing horse, which is kicked and bitten by his own animal. But where is the pursuer? His horse is dashing riderless away. Is he trampled to death in that swirling, sandy conflict? No, he is hanging on to the man with the rooster, belabored the while with the now bloody and dilapidated bird. Regardless of this he still clings, although the horse is bounding along at great speed, and a hundred or more are following, all yelling and encouraging him not to let go. With a superb effort, he swings himself onto the horse behind the saddle, and with a second sudden move grabs the rooster and wrests half of it out of the original victor's hands. Seeing a chance to escape he drops upon the sand, picks himself up unhurt, and is soon seated upon a new horse. Now he becomes the pursued, and two bands, instead of one, of howling, raving, shouting demons, occupy the attention.

Finish of Contest. And thus the struggle goes on, good-naturedly, yet with a fierceness of energy that is exhausting in its wild excitement; exhausting to the onlooker, as well as the participant. When the unlucky bird is all dismembered, and the racers smeared from head to heels with blood, and it seems impossible to divide the pieces any smaller, then, and not till then, the conflict ceases.

Two Thousand Horsemen. But for superb riding watch nearly two thousand of these sons of the desert as they train their young men and boys in daring control of their horses. The greatest chief of the Navahos is a good friend of mine, and it was by his kind invitation that I was privileged to see this never-to-be-forgotten sight. He commanded the "regiment"—shall I call it?—riding alongside at times, and again standing where he could signal his demands and note the result.

An Exhibition of Riding. Let us stand with him. These riders are about to dash past. Just before they reach us, a signal is given, and every rider, in an instant, disappears over the side of his mount, while the horses continue running under perfect control. Simultaneously, every Indian reappears upon his saddle, sits about as long as one might count three, and then slides over to our side of his horse, fully in our sight, holding on by stirrup and mane, but completely hidden from one who might be looking from the other side.

Wonderful Agility. The chief was delighted, in his dignified quiet way, as I burst into warm encomiums, and told me I should soon see "some more" riding. Again the horsemen dashed past. This time I watched for their disappearance and saw where and how they went, but I was scarcely prepared to see many of them peeping at me from under the bellies of their animals. This was done several times; then Pacoda gave me another treat. The riders came toward us. At a sign, every man sprang from his horse to the ground, to our left, gave three or four wild jumps, sprang completely over the saddle to the other side of his horse, where he gave more jumps, and then, with a yell of joyful triumph, landed into his saddle, the horse, meanwhile, keeping up his speed.

An Impressive Spectacle. But to see the whole party ride furiously away from us, nothing but black hair, sturdy backs, horses' tails and hindquarters with galloping feet presented, and then, in the twinkle of an eye it almost seemed, to have the same party dashing towards you, was a feat in horsemanship which impressed me most profoundly.

Horsemen almost from Birth. It is not to be wondered at that the Navaho is an expert horseman. He is as nearly born on horseback, literally, as he can be, for on several occasions I have ridden with Navaho friends, among whom was an expectant mother, have stopped half an hour for the birth, and then, with the new-born babe strapped on the mother's back, have resumed the trip, completing, perhaps, forty or fifty miles in a day. Children born under such conditions could not fail to be skilful horsemen.



CHAPTER XXII. From El Tovar To The Havasupai Indians And Their Wonderful Cataract Canyon Homes

Havasu Canyon. The Grand Canyon has two important tributary canyons. The most important of these is the Havasu Chic-i-mi-mi (canyon of the blue water). This is where the Havasupai Indians live.

First White Visitor. The first white man to visit the Havasu, as far as we know, was Padre Francisco Garces, of whom I have written in another chapter. Four times he made long journeys into the interior, visiting a large number of Indian tribes. Among these were the Wallapais and the Havasupais.

Garces' Diary. Dr. Elliott Coues, who visited the Havasupais in 1881 with a governmental party, has translated Garces' diary, and it was published a short time ago by Francis P. Harper, of New York. In this translation, he describes the descent of his (Coues's) party into the Canyon, and his description is so vivid that it is well worth repetition here.

Dr. Coues' Description of Trail to Havasu Canyon. "On the 10th, a march of ten miles in the same direction brought us abruptly to the brink of the precipice—a sharp-edged jump-off of perhaps a thousand feet. There was no side canyon here for gradual descent; the firm level ground gave no hint of the break before us until we were actually upon the verge, and when the soldiers lined up to look down an involuntary murmur of astonishment ran through the ranks. Dismounting and going in single file, each man leading his horse, we took the dizzy trail—a narrow footpath, in many parts of which a misstep would have been destruction to man or beast. The way zigzagged at first for some distance, on the 'switchback' principle by which railroads sometimes make grades otherwise impracticable; the face of the precipice was so steep that, as we filed along, those of us at the head of the procession looked up to see the other sections of the train almost overhead; certainly a fall of any man there would have been right on top of us. Then the trail took a long lurch to the left with little descent, hugging the face of the cliff, and we looked like a row of ants on a wall. This brought us at length to the head of a great talus, down which the trail zigzagged—the incline was too steep for straight descent, probably at an angle of forty-five degrees. This fetched us into the bed of Cataract Canyon, perfectly dry. The trail was nearly a mile long, and it took us an hour to make our creepy way down. The Havasupai chief, who had been advised of our coming, was there to meet us with some of his men, all mounted; and he took us up the canyon about five miles to a place where there was a scanty aguage, not sufficing for the wants of the whole party. Next morning we retraced our steps down the canyon and kept on in its bed until we reached the wonderful blue spring above described and the wonderful rancheria of the Indians, a distance from last night's camp of about twenty-five miles, as we had struck the canyon some twenty miles above the living water."

Other Trails to the Canyon. Garces came into the canyon by another trail, entirely distinct from this, commonly known as the Wallapai Trail. He left Havasu Canyon by still another trail, known as the Moki Trail, which leads directly from this canyon to the home of the Hopis.

In 1857, Lieutenant Joseph C. Ives made the descent into Havasu Canyon down the Wallapai Trail. His account of the journey reads like a novel, and people who are unfamiliar with the wonderful engineering feats of the Havasu Indians can scarcely believe that Ives did not allow his imagination to run away with him, in his descriptions of the Havasupais' trails.

Later, Lieutenant Cushing, guided by his Indian friends, rode across country to the Hopis, and then secured a Hopi guide who took him to see the Havasupais over the Moki Trail. He confirms all that Ives and Coues have written of the astonishing character of these trails. Having been up and down these trails many times during the last dozen years, I can say without hesitation that there are no more startling trails to be found in our Southwest.

Trip from El Tovar. One of the most enjoyable of the more arduous trips taken by visitors to El Tovar is this trip to Havasu (Cataract) Canyon. Only those who enjoy a strenuous outing should arrange for this trip, and then plenty of time should be allowed to do it without too great rushing. The first portion, to the head of the Topocobya Trail, is generally done in a buckboard. The distance is thirty-five to forty miles, over a varying road,—good in places, fair in others, and wretchedly poor now and again. Arrived at the "hill-top," as the Indians call this point, the conveyance must be abandoned, and all the outfit for sleeping, cooking, and eating is transferred to the backs of pack animals, which have been sent on ahead. The visitors take saddle animals. There are those who make this drive, and then ride to the village, fifteen miles further down the trail, in one day. A better plan is either to make "dry camp" at the head of the Topocobya Trail; or, if time permits, descend to the Topocobya Spring, which flows out of the base of the immense cliff down which one fork of the trail descends. For there are now two ways of descending at Topocobya,—to the right or the left of a mountain which overlooks the Canyon. The trail by which I first entered Havasu Canyon is the one to the left, looking into the Canyon.

Topocobya Spring. Arrived at the spring, the stock can be watered, packs removed, beds unrolled, and camp made for the night. The water, however, is not of the best for drinking purposes, though the Indians habitually use it.

Pictographs. The following morning an early start may be made, and the winding course of Topocobya Canyon followed to its entrance into the main Havasu Canyon. Here a number of interesting pictographs may be seen on the wall to the left, reminding one somewhat of those found in Mallery Grotto at El Tovar.

Havasupai Gardens.* Except in the rainy season, the upper portions of the main Havasu Canyon and all its tributaries are dry and sandy. Just before one reaches the village, however, the barrenness disappears. A thousand springs appear, and unite to form a stream which, in less than a hundred yards, will measure from four to six feet deep and fully eight feet across. It is this stream that renders life possible for the Indians. For the distance of about two miles, the bed of the Canyon, which is here filled with sandy earth, is irrigated from this rapidly flowing stream. The result is that with comparatively little labor the Havasupais are able to produce excellent crops of corn, beans, chillis, onions, melons, squash and other vegetables. After the advent of the Spaniards, they obtained peach trees, and they now grow far more peaches than they can eat, drying large quantities, some of which they sell to ranchers, miners and other outsiders. They also have fine figs.

* Since this chapter was put into type, the Havasupai village has been swept nearly out of existence by a flood. The winter of agog-igto saw a large fall of snow on the plateau, which, melting suddenly during a hot spell in January, rushed down the Canyon in a body, destroyed the school, agent's house, and took away nearly all the hawas, fields, and orchards of the Indians. This catastrophe has several times occurred to them (according to their traditions), so there is little doubt but that they will ere long replant their cornfields and reestablish their homes in the spot they love so well.

The Havasupai "Hawa." The house of a Havasupai is called a "hawa." It is a primitive structure, generally built of cottonwood poles, willows and earth. Occasionally one of the leading men will put up a more pretentious home, whose sides will be of matted willows, plastered inside and out with mud, and with a mud-covered roof which will turn the rain.

A Basket-maker's Paradise. There are about thirty basket-makers among the Havasupais, and specimens of their work may be found in the Hopi House. As Havasu Creek is lined with willows that are admirably adapted for basket-making, and as an abundant supply of martynia, or cat's-claw, is found on the plateaus above, this Canyon is a veritable basket-makers' paradise. Their best work is done in the coiled stitch. The esuwas, or water-bottles, are made out of the twined weave, and then covered with pinion gum.

Beautiful Waterfalls. Havasu Canyon is interesting, not only on account of its Indians, but because of its narrow walls reaching up to the very heavens and shutting out the sun except for the midday hours, and the beautiful blue water flowing in its willow-fringed bed, which finally dashes in successive leaps into the lower depths, making several cataracts, one of which I regard as the most exquisite waterfall in the world. As a consequence, it is becoming a great attraction for travelers.

Bridal Veil Falls. There are five falls in all, occurring in the following order: Havasupai, Navaho, Bridal Veil, Mooney and Beaver. The last three are the most important. Bridal Veil is about one hundred and seventy feet high, and five hundred feet broad, but this space is not entirely covered with water. The edge is so broken that the water dashes over the precipice in a large number of stream and falling upon several different ledges, is again broken into a dashing spray, which, light and feathery, again leaps into the air. The general effect is indescribably beautiful.

The visitor should not fail to cross the Creek either above or below the Bridal Veil Falls, for on the further side are a number of water concretions well worth seeing.

Mooney Falls. Mooney Falls, one mile farther down, is a much higher cataract, but the water falls in an undivided stream. It gets its name from an unfortunate miner, who, in trying to descend a rope ladder to the bottom of the falls, fell, and was dashed to pieces.

Beaver Falls. Beaver Falls are about four miles farther down the Canyon, and receive their name from the large number of beavers that used to be at work in the stream close by.

By recent survey of this region, it has been found that these falls are not included in the Havasupai reservation. It is to be hoped, however, that, before it is too late, this Canyon, its waterfalls and surroundings, will be made into a National Park, forever and inalienably to belong to the people.



CHAPTER XXIII. The First Discoverers And Inhabitants Of The Grand Canyon

A Barren Waste of Rock. While the Grand Canyon, its vast system of tributaries, and its plateau were being uplifted from the primeval ocean, it consisted of nothing but a wild, barren waste of rock. Not a tree, not a shrub, not a flower, not a blade of grass relieved the monotony of the wilderness of rocks which emerged from the great Eocene sea. Not a lizard, horned toad, centipede, tarantula, chuckwalla, campamouche,* frog, tree-toad, turtle or snake was to be found on the long stretching areas of its lifeless shores. Not a chipmunk, prairie-dog, coyote, rat, mouse, porcupine, fox, bear, mountain-lion, badger, deer, antelope or other four-footed creature ran over its new-born surfaces. The sun shone unhindered; the rain beat with pitiless fury; the winds swept unhampered; the snows piled up undeterred over the whole plateau and canyon country. It was plateau and canyon, canyon and plateau; red rock, gray rock, creamy rock, yellow, pink, blue, chocolate, carmine, crimson rock, soft rock, hard rock; sunshine, shadow, wind and quietude; winter, summer, autumn, spring-and that was all! A lifeless world, as yet unprepared for insect, reptile, beast, man, flower or tree. Perhaps a solitary sea-bird with strong pinion flew over it, and gazed into its lifeless depths with wonder, or a dove flew from some earlier and habitable land over this wonderful mass of rock, and returned to its nest and its mate. But no olive or other leaf was in its bill.

*An insect that looks like a tiny dried wisp of hay, well-known in Arizona.

And so the land was born, and rested; while silence, sunshine and solitude brooded over it.

Creation of Soil and Verdure. But in the course of ages, soil was created by the disintegration of the rocks by the weather and the atmosphere, seeds were blown in from regions where flowers and plants bloomed, or were carried in by birds, and later distributed by the four-footed creatures. Then verdure sprang into life; the gentle grasses and flowers began to cover the slopes and level places where soil had gathered, and the trees came to sway and swing in the breezes, and sing their songs of coming life to the hitherto barren rocks.

Fossils of Sea Creatures. Yet they had not been altogether lifeless. Many of the rocks had known life, but it was not insect, reptile, bird, beast or man life; neither did they known anything of grass, flower, shrub or tree life. In the far-away ages, when they were being deposited deep under the surface of the Eocene sea, they saw vast monsters floating in the salty deep, and later, fishes of all sizes, and even great beds of waving sea-moss and ferns floated back and forth, as the tides ebbed and flowed. And fishes and ferns, monsters and moss were occasionally caught in the flowing deposits of lime and sand and silt and clay, and were embedded in their mass. Thus imprisoned, their otherwise forgotten life and history is told to the ages of man that were as yet unborn.

Coming of Man. But now the new life is coming! With verdure and animal life in existence, these hitherto uninhabitable regions became capable of sustaining human life. And the restless spirit of the human race, wherever and howsoever it originated, drove bands of men and women into this region.

Who were they? What were they like? Whence did they come? How long did they stay? Whither did they go? are questions one naturally asks in regard to these first discoverers and inhabitants. If I were to say "I do not know," I would be saying what every other thinking man is compelled to say. Yet there is pleasure in conjecture.

Traces of Ruins. Before looking at these conjectures, however, it is appropriate that we look first at what facts there are to justify them. Suppositions without any facts are mere fictions of the imagination, and this we are not indulging in. When in our day men began to explore the Grand Canyon and its numberless tributaries, a great number of indications of man's presence were found on the rim, on the fault lines or breaks in the sheer precipitous walls, on the plateaus and in the Canyon beneath, in the shape of crude house ruins, lookout houses or forts, indifferent trails, cliff-dwellings, hewn-out water cisterns, mescal pits, with countless pieces of broken pottery, arrowheads, stone axes, hammers, mortars, pestles and even cemeteries. or places of cremation.

Evidences of Superior Civilization. Major J. W. Powell, in his journal of explorations, writes that when he and his party reached the mouth of the Uinta River, they went up to the agency of the Indians of the same name. While visiting the Indians, and noting their fertile, irrigated farms, he found many evidences that "this beautiful valley has been the home of a people of a higher grade of cultivation than the present Utes. On our way here yesterday, we discovered, in many places along the trail, fragments of pottery, and wandering about the little farms to-day I find the foundations of ancient houses and mealing stones that were not used by nomadic people, as they are too heavy to be transported by such tribes, and are deeply worn. The Indians, seeing that I am interested in these matters, take pains to show me several other places where these evidences remain, and tell me. that they know nothing about the people who formerly dwelt here. They further tell me that up in the Canyon the rocks are covered with pictures."

Ancient Dwellings. When Powell and his party reached the junction of the San Juan with the Colorado, they might have found a large number of ancient dwellings in the cliffs not far away from where Bluff City now stands.

Further on, when the Bright Angel was discovered (the beautiful stream and canyon on the north side of the Canyon directly opposite El Tovar), the story of which is told in a separate chapter, Major Powell went up a little gulch, just above Bright Angel Creek, about two hundred yards from their camp on the Colorado, and there he discovered the ruins of two or three old houses, which were originally of stone, laid in mortar. Only the foundations were left, but irregular blocks, of which the houses were constructed, were found lying scattered about. In one room he found an old mealing stone, deeply worn, as if it had been much used. A great deal of pottery was strewn around, and old trails, which in some places were deeply worn into the rocks, were seen.

Ruins of a Village. Between the foot of what is now the Bright Angel Trail and Bass's Cable Crossing, Major Powell discovered another group of ruins. "There was evidently quite a village on this rock. Again we find the mealing stones, and much broken pottery, and up in a little natural shelf in the rock, back of the ruins, we find a globular basket, that would hold perhaps a third of a bushel. It is badly broken, and, as I attempt to take it up, it falls to pieces. There are many beautiful flint chips, as if this had been the home of an old arrow-maker."

Old Gardens. Later, when white men began to go down the trail now known as the Bright Angel Trail (the one near to El Tovar), the remnants of gardens, with irrigating ditches, in which small pieces of Indian pottery were scattered about, were discovered. The place is known today as Indian Garden, and is seen from the upper porch of the hotel.

Stone Huts. In his account of Powell's second expedition, Dellenbaugh tells of ancient ruins found below Labyrinth Canyon. "Small huts for storage were found there in the cliffs, and on a promontory, about thirty feet above the water, were the ruins of stone buildings, one of which, twelve by twenty feet in dimensions, had walls still standing about six feet high. The Canyon here was some six hundred feet high, though the top of the plateau through which the Canyon is carved is at least fifteen hundred feet above the river. We discovered the trail by which the old Puebloans had made their way in and out. Where necessity called for it, poles and tree-trunks had been placed against the rocks to aid the climbers. Some of our party trusted themselves to these ancient ladders, and with the aid of a rope also, reached the summit." These Indians had tilled a small piece of arable land in an alcove near by.

An Old Indian Fortress. Hance found a number of cliff ruins and the remnants of old houses on and near his trail, and on the Red Canyon Trail. It was the discovery of an old Indian lookout fortress, located on the very edge of the Canyon where Bass Camp now is, that led Bass to hunt for the trail into the Canyon. This fortress is about fifteen feet square, outside measurement, and consists of one room, twelve feet square, with a lookout in the eastern wall, which is still to be seen. Remnants of the walls still stand, and at one corner are fully ten feet high. About a mile below this fortress, were discovered two large native water-storage tanks or reservoirs, which, when cleaned out, were capable of holding many hundreds of gallons of water. Further down, on the plateaus beneath, several large pits for the cooking of mescal were discovered.

Cooking of Mescal. This mescal is the succulent and sweet inner leaf of the agave deserti, which is found in large quantities in this region. The Indians still prepare it in the same manner as did their forefathers. The larger thick leaves are taken from the plants when they are full of sap. Great pits are dug and lined with rocks. Into these pits dry wood, roots, pine cones, etc., are thrown and set on fire, until the whole oven is thoroughly heated. On the hot rocks are then laid the pulpy stalks of the agave; over these is placed a layer of wet grass; then more agave or mescal leaves, more grass, and so on, until the pit is full. Then the oven and its contents are banked over with earth, and allowed to steam and cook for three or four days. The woman in charge is an expert in determining when her "bread is baked." She thrusts stalks of the agave into the heart of the pit before it is finally closed up, and when she deems "time up," she pulls forth one of these stalks. If it is not done to her liking, she allows the process to continue; otherwise the banked up earth is removed, and the contents of the pit withdrawn and placed upon adjacent rocks to dry. It now looks like large cakes of brownish fibres, thoroughly saturated in molasses. In taste it is sweet and fairly palatable, though the fibres render it a food that requires a large amount of mastication. It has great staying qualities, contains much nutrition, and will keep for months, even years. I have eaten pieces of it that were sweet and good over three years after it was made.

Unlimited Fragments of Pottery. In my own wanderings of nearly twenty years in the Grand and Havasu Canyons and their smaller tributary gorges, I have discovered scores of these cliff-dwellings. Ruins uncounted are to be found scattered along the rim, within five to ten miles of the Canyon, and thousands of pieces of pottery of old design have been picked up by the visitors of the past fifteen years.

On the Shinumo, opposite the Bass Trail, are several cliff-dwellings, and as late as the summer of 1908 a young couple camped there for a month on their wedding trip, excavated and discovered a fine stone axe, numbers of pieces of pottery of three different kinds, several pieces with holes bored with the primitive drill of flint or obsidian, a fine spearhead of flint, and a number of arrow points.

Similarity of Cliff Ruins. The whole region of Arizona, New Mexico, Southern Utah, and Southern Colorado abounds in these cliff ruins. The likeness of their appearance, and the fact that everything excavated is of a similar kind, seems to indicate a relationship, both in time of occupancy and in the peoples who built and tenanted them.

The questions now naturally arise: Who were these people? What was their life? Whence did they come? Whither have they gone?

The Race of the Cliff Dwellers. In the earlier days of America's serious researches into her own archaeology, those who led our thought on the subject, though personally they had not seen the cliff-dwellings, declared them to be the homes of the Aztecs, one of the Mexican races found by Cortes below the City of Mexico. Hence today we find people talking about the Aztecs and their ruined homes in Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah. We used to read of the wonder of the discoverers of these dwellings, at finding them so small. The doorways were small, the rooms themselves less than six feet in width and length, and the ceilings so low that a five-foot man could not stand upright in them. It was reasonable therefore to infer, said these discoverers, that the builders and inhabitants of the cliff-dwellings were an exceedingly small people, dwarfs, as in no other way could the rooms be occupied. And thousands of people who have read about these ruins still hold to the idea that they were inhabited by dwarfs. But who the dwarfs were, or where they have gone to, no one seems to have the remotest idea. But by and by, such men as Bandelier, the Mendeleffs, Stevenson, Cushing, Fewkes, Hough, Hodge and Hewett, began to investigate. They took the field, and carefully explored hundreds of ruins. Then, some of them with a profound knowledge of the Spanish tongue, went through all the records and diaries of the old conquistadores and the padres who accompanied them. They found out all that the early Spaniards had discovered and conjectured. In the meantime, they began to study the languages of the Indians of the regions nearest to the ruins, and question them as to their myths, legends, and traditions bearing upon the ruins, and their researches speedily bore fruit.

Storage Houses. First of all they classified their discoveries. Though scores of skeletons were found, there was not a single dwarf specimen among them. This seemed to be a death blow to the dwarf theory. Stone slabs were used as doors. Necessarily these were comparatively small, since even though large slabs might have been found, they could not have been moved by the cliff-dwellers, on account of their weight. This, in itself, accounted for the size of the doorways. It had long been noticed that these small dwellings were scattered profusely where there were larger dwellings, and finally it became known that the small dwellings were not used for habitations at all. They were merely storage houses for corn and other edibles, farmed by the inhabitants of the larger dwellings. On one occasion, some years ago, I was exploring one of the side gorges of the Havasu. We had seen scores of the cliff dwellings, perched high in the walls of the canyons, until at length one particularly well-built, though exceedingly small structure attracted my attention. My guide was the most intelligent and communicative of the Havasupai Indians, and he immediately responded to my query by crying out: "Meala-hawa! Meala-hawa!" (Corn house). Further inquiry revealed the fact that all the small dwellings were but storage houses for corn and other foods.

Textiles. Excavation brought forth delicate textiles in cotton and yucca fibre, well-woven, and in a remarkable state of preservation—silent testimony to the dry climate, and the fact that the dwellings were so constructed that rain and snow were practically excluded. Basketry and pottery in large quantities were found, all showing ability in manufacture, also artistic skill, anti-aesthetic conception in the form of the articles and the designs portrayed upon them.

Excavated Relics. Stone hammers and axes, obsidian, flint and other arrow-heads, spear-heads, and knives, mortars and pestles, metates or meal grinders, obsidian and flint drills for making holes through stone or shell, bows and arrows,—the bows of tough wood often brought from afar, and the arrows pointed with chipped flint or obsidian, deftly and securely tied to the shaft with tough and durable strings of sinews; shell beads, pipes, bone awls, punches, needles, etc.; stone fetiches in semblance of animals, the like of which were never seen on land or sea; ornaments of shell, turquoise and onyx, and even a kind of jade; sandals and mats of yucca fibre, and exquisitely delicate feather robes,—these are some of the things that the excavators have found. Corn-cobs, melon rinds and grass seeds may be added to the list.

Old Cemeteries. Then—most interesting of finds—a number of cemeteries were located, and these were raked and scraped over until every visible secret hidden in their depths was brought into the light of the sun.

Tracing the Indian Races. Now here were numbers of facts to work upon. Then the myths, legends and traditions of the Indians living near by were carefully collected and studied, and light began to dawn in the minds of our archaeologists. The Hopis in Northern Arizona, the Zunis in New Mexico, the Acomas who live on the massive cliff twenty miles south of the Santa Fe Railway at Laguna Station, the score of pueblos on the banks of the Rio Grande, even to far-away Taos,—all contributed their share to the elucidation of the mystery. Even the semi-nomadic Navaho had something to say which helped. Cushing found among the Zuni stories galore of their struggles with the fierce and warlike wandering tribes, who constantly harassed the home-loving people who built their rude villages. Fewkes not only unearthed whole cities of the past, but, gained from the nearby Hopis their traditions, which told in reasonable and intelligible form what was most probably their history. He listened while their old men and women recited the stories and legends of their migration from the south northwards, and how certain families or clans came from this or that direction, building and inhabiting certain now ruined dwellings in ages long past. Others heard similar stories, which they investigated as far as possible, compared with the ruins named, and then recorded, with such discovered facts as helped in the elucidation of the problems involved.

Ancestors of the Pueblo People. All these investigations pointed to one great fact, and that was that the cliff and cave dwellers of the Grand Canyon region and all the contiguous country were none other than the ancestors of the present pueblo people,—those who live in the Hopi villages, the Zuni villages, Acoma, Laguna, Santo Domingo, Isleta, Teseque, Jemez, Taos, San Ildefonso, Zia and the rest.

With this luminous fact before them, a greater study began of these pueblo people, and it was then found that, to this day, they use the same utensils, make the same implements, wear the same ornaments, follow the same burial customs, and generally live the same life that these ancient cliff-dwellers did. The conclusions, therefore, are obvious and inevitable. The cliff-dwellers were none other than the ancestors of the pueblo people, a little less advanced, doubtless, in the march of civilization, yet already far progressed from the rude civilization of the nomad. They were driven to occupy the inaccessible cliffs by the constant attacks of the warlike nomads.

Sedentary and Home-loving Indians. Thus the cliff dwellings become interesting memorials of the great fight for existence, where one race has striven to the very death with other races, and the weaker have either given way or been swept out of existence. The picture is easy to draw. The country was peopled with these sedentary and home-loving Indians. They had come largely from the south, had settled down, had built their humble villages, tilled their fields and cultivated their crops. The women made baskets and pottery, and the men hunted game, while the women prepared it for food, and gathered seeds, nuts and roots to eke out their not overextensive dietary. Young men and women grew up, felt the dawnings of love and the final awakenings of the great passion, and then married, settled down in a house the community helped them to build, and began to work a piece of land selected for them, or at least approved, by the town council. For, even in those early days, there is every evidence that these people had a definite and distinct form of democratic government, to the elected officials of which they yielded an almost perfect reverence and obedience. In due time, happy and healthy children were born to them.

Peaceful and Religious. They were a religious people, were these early dwellers in the land. They built kivas and estufas,—under and above ground ceremonial chambers,—where they regularly and decorously met to worship by dance, recitation of ancient songs, telling of divine leadings and interpositions on their behalf, smoking, singing, prayer, and the observance of other ritual. Thus happy, contented and basking in the favor of Those Above, they dwelt, until suddenly a new and unfavorable element was injected into their hitherto peaceful life. The buffetings of nature they had become accustomed to, and they had kept their bodies healthy so as to resist these assaults, but now human storms were about to burst upon them. Apaches in the south, Comanches and Navahos in the east, Utes and Navahos in the north, Mohaves and Yumas in the west began to encroach upon them. Envious eyes gazed upon their houses and the goods that industry and skill had gathered within. Those who had no food stored when famine swooped upon them, came and begged from those who had. By and by jealousy and envy prompted theft, and then strife began. Strife spread and grew, until war in all its horrors became the normal condition. In self preservation, these peaceable, friendly, hospitable peoples were compelled to be warriors. But their foes were many and crafty, skilful in war, wary in attack and retreat. Their harassments became more than could be borne, so, in their desperation, the peaceable people retreated to the cliffs and walls of the Canyons, where surprise could be guarded against, where a small supply of water could be reasonably sure, and where, not too far away, when permitted to do so, they might cultivate a small piece of arable land.

Compelled to Wage War. Think of the state of affairs! A state of perpetual siege and watchfulness, of readiness to fight at any moment, of keeping lookouts on the alert day and night, of working in the fields with one hand on the implements of peace and industry, and the other on the implements of war. The night attack, murder, rapine, fire and bloodshed became common experiences, and the discovery of many bodies, the skulls crushed with battleaxes, of skeletons of men slain with the deadly arrow, of bodies twisted by torture and charred by fire, reveal what a reign of terror and dread that epoch must have been in the land of the cliff-dweller.

Houses Became Fortresses. For how many decades or centuries this lasted, we do not know. Somewhat uncertain tradition is all we have to rely upon. But ultimately the pressure became less severe. In some cases, hostilities largely ceased; in others, they became less constant. So the pueblos we find in existence to-day slowly began to arise. One by one, the bands of cliff-dwellers dared to leave their wall fortresses and to build in more congenial places, nearer to their fields and springs or water-courses. But, taught by past experience, they made their homes into fortresses. The houses were massed together, largely for protective purposes; there was no means of easy entrance to the bottom story (they were built from two to seven stories high), the only way provided being by a hatchway and ladder from the roof. The rooms of the second story were thrust back a little, so that the roof of the first story formed a kind of courtyard for its inhabitants. Ladders that could easily be removed afforded ingress and egress, and the doorways could be guarded by flat slabs of rock. Numerous loop-holes afforded outlook points, and also opportunity for the shooting of poisoned arrows upon an oncoming foe.

Buildings in Inaccessible Places. In some cases, as that of the Hopi villages, Acoma and old Zuni, the new towns were erected upon almost inaccessible mesas, the steep trails of which could be securely guarded against an army by a handful of hidden men.

Arrival of Spaniards. This was the state of affairs when the Spaniards marched into the country (after the reconnaissance of Fray Marcos), under the leadership of Coronado and his lieutenant, the ensign Tovar. Hence it will be seen that the original discoverers and inhabitants of the Grand Canyon were evidently the ancestors of the present pueblo peoples.



CHAPTER XXIV. El Tovar And Cardenas And The Modern Discovery Of The Grand Canyon

The Spanish Conquistadores. Few romances are more fascinating than the history of the early exploitations of this continent by the Spanish conquistadores. Cortes, Pizarro, Guzman, Narvaez, Coronado are names to conjure with. The wonderful successes of Cortes naturally excited the jealous envy and cupidity of his compeers. In his earlier experiences, Cortes had aroused the anger of Velasquez, Governor of Cuba. Cortes, in one of his many acts of gallantry, had betrayed the sister of Velasquez's mistress. When Velasquez learned the facts, to peremptorily commanded Cortes, who was his subordinate, to marry the unhappy girl. Refusals and imprisonments, threats and anger were the natural consequences, and, while Cortes did ultimately marry her, the enmity thus engendered bore bitter fruit for the husband.

Breach between Cortes and Velasquez. When Cortes made his effective conquests on the mainland and sought to supplant Velasquez, the breach between the two men considerably widened. Both sought, with embassies, the ear of the King of Spain, Charles V, and while the future conqueror made a deep impression with his reports of conquests to come and treasures already in hand, the Governor's friends were not slow to act. Meanwhile, Cortes had hit upon the bold plan of destroying his ships, and thus compelling his men to march to the subjugation of Mexico. Velasquez was about to dispatch Panfilo de Narvaez with a commission as captain-general to arrest him, and send him in chains to Cuba. The king, however, would not permit this, and Narvaez was sent forth charged to be friendly to Cortes. But this was not to be. Events prevented, and Narvaez finally decided to place Cortes and his whole army under arrest. This was a great undertaking, and required skilful generalship, as well as boldness and skill in execution. Though a gallant warrior, Narvaez was not equal to the task he had set himself, and Cortes, having learned what was before him, turned the tables upon Narvaez and his force by becoming the arrestor instead of the arrested. It requires no great knowledge of human nature to picture the fierce anger of Narvaez and his men. When Cortes eventually released them, it was on condition that he be left alone, and that Narvaez return to Spain. The defeated man, with anger burning his jealous heart to a white heat, did return, and immediately demanded of the king some mission that should allow him to remove the disgrace from his name. To get rid of him, the king sent him to the conquest of what is now Florida.

Expedition to Florida. It was a brave expedition that set forth on a bright day in June, 1527. Five ships and six hundred men made quite a showing, yet the Atlantic Ocean, aided by storms and winds, flouted and routed them, so that it was April of the following year before the main part of the expedition landed at Tampa Bay. Of the total destruction of the party, save Cabeza de Vaca and three or four others, all readers are fairly familiar, as they are likewise of De Vaca's wonderful eight years' journey across the continent.

Arrival at San Miguel. I have thus rapidly traced these events in the early history of the exploration of this continent, for it was the wanderings of Cabeza de Vaca and his final arrival at San Miguel in New Galicia that brought the Ensign Tovar into Arizona, and led to the discovery of the Grand Canyon.

Preliminary Reconnaissance. The Viceroy of New Spain at that time was Antonio de Mendoza, a wise, loyal and farseeing man. He was anxious to checkmate Cortes, and to show that others besides the great, though treacherous conqueror, could make discoveries of new lands, where gold was abundant, and where colonies could be established. Yet he would not be rash. Before sending out a large expedition to conquer the cities and fertile land Cabeza de Vaca had described, it would be wise and cautious to send a cool-headed man, one who was prepared for any hardship, one who had no lust for gold in his own soul, yet who could be relied upon to bring back a straight and true story to the viceroy as to whatever he might discover concerning De Vaca's stories. He should be accompanied by Stephen, the negro, who was one of De Vaca's companions; and thus he would be accurately guided to the places that had been described. The man chosen for this important reconnaissance was a devoted Franciscan, Fray Marcos, to whom I have devoted the next chapter of this book. Marcos went, saw, returned and reported, and upon his report the expedition of Coronado was equipped and fitted out.

Coronado's Army. The fervor with which the Spanish gallants joined Coronado's army of exploration is realized when one remembers that three hundred Spaniards as well as eight hundred Indians were gathered together in a few days. Coronado was a Spanish grandee, traveling at the time of De Vaca's arrival as a royal official visitor. In the words of Castaneda he was "a gentleman from Salamanca, who had married a lady in the City of Mexico, the daughter of Alonso de Estrada, the treasurer and at one time governor of Mexico, and the son (most people said) of his Catholic Majesty Don Ferdinand, and many state it as certain." And the same historian later on continues, in his simple and naive way, to tell us about Tovar and many others: "When the Viceroy, Don Antonio de Mendoza, saw what a noble company had come together, and the spirit and good will with which they had all presented themselves, knowing the worth of these men, he would have liked very well to make every one of them captain of an army; but as the whole number was small he could not do as he would have liked, and so he appointed the captains and officers because it seemed to him that if they were appointed by him, as he was so well obeyed and beloved, nobody, would find fault with his arrangements. After everybody had heard who the general was (Coronado), he made Don Pedro de Tovar ensign general, a young gentleman who was the son of Don Fernando de Tovar, the guardian and high steward of the Queen Dona Juana, our demented mistress—may she be in glory."

A Brilliant and Gallant Company. After the naming of their officers, Castaneda regrets that he has "forgotten the names of many good fellows. It would be well if I could name some of them, so that it might be clearly seen what cause I had for saying that they had on this expedition the most brilliant company ever collected in the Indies to go in search of new lands. But they were unfortunate in having a captain who left in New Spain estates and a pretty wife, a noble and excellent lady, which were not the least causes for what was to happen."

First Disappointment. Poor Coronado! The reader is thus prepared to throw upon him the blame because similar treasures to those found by Cortes in the land of Montezuma were not found in Arizona and New Mexico. In spite of his having so many fine gentlemen in his official family, Coronado's disappointments and disillusionments began early. As he reached the region where the wilderness began—just past the Pima country—he felt downhearted, "for, although the reports were very fine about what was ahead, there was nobody who had seen it except the Indians who went with the negro, and these had already been caught in some lies."

Meeting with Indians. When the expedition first came in contact with the Indians of the desert region, the gallant members of the party must have been a little scared, for, according to Castaneda: "Some Indians... during the night... in a safe place yelled so that, although the men were ready for anything, some were so excited that they put their saddles on hind-side before; but these were the new fellows. When the veterans had mounted and ridden round the camp, the Indians had fled."

Coronado Reaches Zuni. Coronado finally reached Cibola—the mythical—now known to be Zuni, in New Mexico. Here he was not only disappointed because he did not find the great treasure so long anticipated, but he was wounded. Getting into converse with him, the Indians told him of the people who lived round about, and among others, of those who dwelt in the province of Tusayan. And here is what Castaneda tells us about the discovery by Europeans of those whom we now know as the Hopi.

Castaneda's Account of their Experiences in the Canyon. "The General had sent Don Pedro de Tovar to these villages with seventeen horsemen, and three or four foot soldiers..Juan de Padilla, a Franciscan friar, who had been a fighting man in his youth, went with them. When they reached the region, they entered the country so quietly that nobody observed them, because there were no settlements or farms between one village and another and the people do not leave the villages except to go to their farms, especially at this time, when they had heard that Cibola had been captured by very fierce people, who traveled on animals who ate people. This information was generally believed by those who had never seen horses, although it was so strange as to cause much wonder. Our men arrived after nightfall and were able to conceal themselves under the edge of the village, where they heard the natives talking in their houses. But in the morning they were discovered, and drew up in regular order, while the natives went out to meet them, with bows and shields, and wooden clubs, drawn up in lines without any confusion. The interpreter was given a chance to speak to them and to give them one warning, for they were very intelligent people, but nevertheless they drew lines and insisted that our men should not go across these lines toward their village. While they were talking some men acted as if they would cross the lines, and one of the natives lost control of himself and struck a horse a blow on the check of the bridle with his club. Friar Juan, fretted by the time that was being wasted in talking with them, said to the captain, 'To tell the truth, I do not know why we came here.' When the men heard this, they gave the Santiago (The Battle Cry of Spain), so suddenly that they ran down many Indians and the others fled to the town in confusion. Some indeed did not have a chance to do this, so quickly did the people in the villages come out with presents, asking for peace. The captain ordered his force to collect, and, as the natives did not do any more harm, he and those who were with him found a place to establish new headquarters near the village. They had dismounted here when the natives came peacefully, saying that they had come to give in the submission of the whole province and that they wanted him to be friends with them and to accept the presents which they gave him. This was some cotton cloth, although not much, because they do not make it in that district. They also gave him some dressed skins and some corn meal, and pine nuts, and corn and birds of the country. Afterward they presented some turquoises, but not many. The people of the whole district came together that day and submitted themselves, and they allowed him to enter their villages freely to visit, buy, sell, and barter with them.

"It is governed like Cibola, by an assembly of the oldest men. They have their governors and generals. This was where they obtained the information about a large river, and that several days down the river there were some people with very large bodies.

"As Don Pedro de Tovar was not commissioned to go farther, he returned from there, and gave this information to the general, who dispatched Don Garcia Lopez de Cardenas with about twelve companions to go to see this river. He was well received when he reached Tusayan and was well entertained by the natives, who gave him guides for his journey. They started from here loaded with provisions, for they had to go through a desert country before reaching the inhabited region, which the Indians said was more than twenty days journey. After they had gone twenty days, they came to the banks of the river, which seemed to be more than three or four leagues above the stream which flowed between them. This country was elevated and full of low, twisted pines, very cold, and lying open toward the north, so that, this being the warm season, no one could live there on account of the cold. They spent three days on this bank looking for a passage down to the river, which looked from above as if the water was six feet across, although the Indians said that it was half a league wide. It was impossible to descend, for after these three days Captain Melgosa and one Juan Galeras and another companion, who were the three lightest and most agile men, made an attempt to go down at the least difficult place, and went down until those who were above were unable to keep sight of them. They returned about four o'clock in the afternoon, not having succeeded in reaching the bottom on account of the great difficulties which they found, because what seemed to be easy from above was not so, but instead very hard and difficult. They said that they had been down about a third of the way and that the river seemed very large from the place that they reached, and that from what they saw the Indians had given the width correctly. Those who stayed above had estimated that some huge rocks on the side of the cliffs seemed to be about as tall as a man, but those who went down swore that when they reached these rocks they were bigger than the great tower of Seville. They did not go farther up the river because they could not get water. Before this they had to go a league or two inland every day late in the evening in order to find water, and the guides said that if they should go four days farther, it would not be possible to go on, because there was no water within three or four days, for when they travel across this region themselves they take with them women loaded with water in gourds, and bury the gourds of water along the way to use when they return, and besides this, they travel in one day what it takes us two days to accomplish.

"This was the Tison (Firebrand) river, much nearer its source than where Melchior Diaz and his company crossed it. These were the same kind of Indians, judging from what was afterward learned. They came back from this point and the expedition did not have any other result. On the way they saw some water falling on a rock and learned from the guides that some bunches of crystals which were hanging there were salt. They went and gathered a quantity of this and brought it back to Cibola, dividing it among those who were there. They gave the general a written account of what they had seen, because one Pedro de Sotomayor had gone with Don Garcia Lopez as chronicler for the army. The villages of that province remained peaceful, since they were never visited again, nor was any attempt made to find other peoples in that direction."

Place Described by Cardenas Unknown. There has been some attempt on the part of students who are familiar with the country to locate the spot where Cardenas and his men gazed down into the depths of the Canyon of the Colorado River. The long distance travelled, according to Castaneda's narrative, was totally unnecessary to bring the Spaniards to the banks of the river. Twenty days' journey, through a desert region, away from Tusayan in the direction of the Colorado River, would have brought them as far down as Yuma or Mohave. But at these points there is no canyon. It is well known that the Canyon system terminates near the Great Bend, some miles beyond the Grand Wash, hence this could not have been the objective point of the guides of Cardenas.

Dellenbaugh's Opinion. Dellenbaugh, in his "Romance of the Colorado River," argues that the Tusayan of Castaneda could not have been the land of the Hopis, for, as he truthfully remarks, "an able-bodied man can easily walk to the brink of the Marble Canyon from there in three or four days." He also says that it has usually been stated, without definite reason, that Cardenas reached the Grand Canyon about opposite Bright Angel River, or near the spot where El Tovar Hotel now stands. I have never heard this statement made by any one who has any knowledge either of Castaneda's narrative, or of the relative locations of the Hopi towns and the Grand Canyon.