Arizona Sketches | Page 7

as a tenderfoot. I inquired of one of the cowboys how far it was to a near-by mountain. He gave a quien sabe shrug of the shoulder and answered me in Yankee fashion by asking how far I thought it was. Estimating the distance as in a prairie country I replied, "Oh, about a mile." He laughed and said that the mountain was fully five miles distant by actual measurement. I had unwittingly taken my first lesson in plainscraft and prudently refrained thereafter from making another sure guess.
The deception was due to the rarefied atmosphere, which is peculiar to the arid region. It not only deceives the eye as to distance, but also as to motion. If the eye is steadily fixed upon some distant inanimate object, it seems to move in the tremulous light as if possessed of life, and it is not always easy to be convinced to the contrary. However, by putting the object under inspection in line with some further object, it can readily be determined whether the object is animate or still by its remaining on or moving off the line.
Another peculiarity of the country is that objects do not always seem to stand square with the world. In approaching a mountain and moving on an up grade the plane of incline is suddenly reversed and gives the appearance and sensation of going downhill. In some inexplicable manner sense and reason seem to conflict and the discovery of the disturbed relation of things is startling. You know very well that the mountain ahead is above you, but it has the appearance of standing below you in a hollow; and the water in the brook at your feet, which runs down the mountain into the valley, seems to be running uphill. By turning squarely about and looking backwards, the misplaced objects become righted, and produces much the same sensation that a man feels who is lost and suddenly finds himself again.
We immediately prepared to drive out to the ranch, which was ten miles distant and reached by a road that skirted the Dos Cabezas mountains. The new wagon was set up and put in running order and lightly loaded with supplies. All of the preliminaries being completed, the horses were harnessed and hooked to the wagon. The driver mounted his seat, drew rein and cracked his whip, but we didn't go. The horses were only accustomed to the saddle and knew nothing about pulling in harness. Sam was a condemned cavalry horse and Box was a native bronco, and being hitched to a wagon was a new experience to both. The start was unpropitious, but, acting on the old adage that "necessity is the mother of invention," which truth is nowhere better exemplified than on the frontier where conveniences are few and the most must be made of everything, after some delay and considerable maneuvering we finally got started.
The road for some distance out was level and smooth and our progress satisfactory. As we drove leisurely along I improved the opportunity to look about and see the sights. It was a perfect day in April and there never was a brighter sky nor balmier air than beamed and breathed upon us. The air was soft and tremulous with a magical light that produced startling phantasmagoric effects.
It was my first sight of a mirage and it naturally excited my curiosity. It seemed as if a forest had suddenly sprung up in the San Simon valley where just before had appeared only bare ground. With every change in the angle of vision as we journeyed on, there occurred a corresponding change in the scene before us that produced a charming kaleidoscopic effect. The rough mountain was transformed into a symmetrical city and the dry valley into a lake of sparkling water,--all seeming to be the work of magic in some fairyland of enchantment.
In a ledge of granite rock by the wayside were cut a number of round holes which the Indians had made and used as mills for grinding their corn and seeds into meal. Nearby also, were some mescal pits used for baking the agave, a native plant that is in great demand as food by the Indians. The spot was evidently an old rendezvous where the marauding Apaches were accustomed to meet in council to plan their bloody raids, and to feast on mescal and pinole in honor of some successful foray or victory over an enemy.
We next crossed several well-worn Indian trails which the Apaches had made by many years of travel to and fro between their rancherias in the Mogollon mountains and Mexico. The sight of these trails brought us back to real life and a conscious sense of danger, for were we not in an enemy's country and in the midst of hostile