"That desert has got into my system. I don't feel right; for fifty cents I'd turn around and go back."

I laughed a rather sheepish laugh and said, "Doc, you have answered your own question. Let's try to forget it and go to sleep."

Chapter XI

Grand Junction, Colorado

Monday morning, July fourth, found us on our way into Grand Junction, over good roads, and while we had to go a little slow on Kate's account, we had no special mishap. The country on both sides was taken up by alfalfa and fruit ranches, and one or two small towns we pa.s.sed through seemed quite busy and prosperous. At Fruita, a little town about ten miles out, we picked up an Indian and gave him a ride almost to town, and, showing the Indian's characteristic, he departed without thinking it worth while to thank us.

We ate our lunch outside of town and as we drove slowly down the main street, just at 1:30 P. M., looking for a place to put up, we were hailed by Mr. Bradley and the boys, who had finished their lunch and were out looking for us. They had arrived in town only an hour before.

It certainly was a hilarious meeting and, as they had located a corral, we drove over there and put up the horses, backed our wagon into the middle of the yard, and the race to be at Grand Junction on July fourth was won, with 944 miles to our credit.

Just to feel at home we all repaired to the St. Regis Hotel to clean up. This took some time, but when we finally got our store clothes on we realized it was the fourth of July, hence, a holiday, and no mail to be had and no stores open; so we took in the town and the newspaper bulletins of the Jeffries-Johnson prize-fight, and also told the boys how we had made and enjoyed the trip. The Doctor received a telegram stating that Mrs. Lancaster would not arrive until the next evening.

That night we tried to lay out a plan for our trip to Denver. The boys, Norman Bradley and Norman Harris, both wanted to ride horseback, so we had to have an extra horse. Instead of three there would be six in the party, so we must get our tent, which we had sent on from Daggett, California, as we could not expect to sleep on the ground in the mountains, and could not all sleep in the wagon. So we planned it out that night after a fashion, although the Doctor was uncertain as to just what condition his wife was in and, therefore, thought he might have to go home with her.

This put quite a damper on the party, but we had decided to stay in town a day or two longer to rest our horses and make our purchases, and we hoped that Mrs. Lancaster would be well enough so the Doctor could finish his trip with us.

We were up early the next day, shopping and getting ready for a new start. The horses were shod and inquiry made for another one. The question as to which route to take was discussed with various people and we finally decided to go up the Gunnison River and over Marshall Pa.s.s, instead of up the Grand River, through Glenwood Springs, and over Tennessee Pa.s.s. It is a longer and harder route up the Gunnison and I suppose we chose it on that account and also because we had never been over that way by train.

In the afternoon while calling on Mr. Adams of the Delta County National Bank, he asked me suddenly what hotel we were stopping at, and when I said the St. Regis, he said, "Perhaps you had better go over and get your things; it is on fire." Notwithstanding his quiet way of breaking the news to me I made a hasty exit and found, as I reached the door of the hotel, that our whole party had arrived at the same time from different directions. We found our rooms and had our luggage out in short order, although, not having our keys, we had to break in the doors. The fire, fortunately, did not do as much damage as the water, but the guests were homeless, so to speak, and we immediately sought out new quarters at the Navarre Hotel, and the excitement was over.

I had not yet been able to find the horse I wanted. I had, however, decided to let the boys ride Kate and Dixie. This would be easy work for the horses. Dixie's neck would get a chance to heal, and Kate ought to be able to carry one of the boys and keep up with the wagon, if she was not asked to do any fast traveling. Bess could pull her share over the mountains, I was quite sure, with any horse, even a fresh one, although she needed more rest than the two days she was getting. Still, we expected our work would not be so hard from now on, as we would have real roads and would rest oftener.

I located a big brown gelding that afternoon that was being worked double on a transfer wagon. He was a tough one, I could see, but he had so many faults I was advised not to take him. He would balk and kick under certain conditions, and under others he would run away. He was afraid of a gun and of automobiles, and was about as unsafe a horse as one could pick out to take up in the mountains on a trip of this kind; but I liked his looks and could not find another that I thought could do the work, and so, after some reflection, I bought him.

I knew that if he took a notion to run that we would probably be wanting to go in that direction anyway, and if he got going too fast, Bess and the brake could slow him up. If he refused to pull, I could probably talk him out of it, and as a tired horse soon gets to be a good horse, I was pretty sure that I could make a tired horse out of him very shortly and, therefore, a good one. We would need him only while our party was large anyway, and when the boys left I expected to sell him, so we added him to our list as a liability, and the boys having learned of his tricks, called him "Cyclone."

We had nearly finished our preparations by evening and were quite anxious to hear the Doctor's report after Mrs. Lancaster arrived. He seemed quite worried after he had met her and brought her up to the hotel. We could not get him to say much that night, but the next morning he told us he would have to go home with her, as he felt she was too sick to go farther alone, and, although Bob offered to go with her, the Doctor felt she needed a doctor's care. So our party was broken up, Bob deciding to go with the Doctor, and thus my two partners of the desert were leaving.

I hated to have them go, but I could not ask the Doctor to stay under the circ.u.mstances. Bob had made the trip on the spur of the moment, so to speak, but Doc and I had planned to go through together. We had followed many a trail before, sometimes on foot, often on horseback, and again by wagon or boat, but always he was there at the end and we would shake hands at parting and agree, when the frost came again, to do it over. But we knew we would not make this trip over again and he was not going through. I knew how he must feel, so tried to be cheerful and talk about something else.

It was a very quiet party, therefore, which sat down to dinner together. Mr. Bradley, the two boys, and I were to leave immediately afterward. The Doctor and Mrs. Lancaster and Bob were going to stay over and take the train the next morning. At one-thirty we had our new team, Bess and Cyclone, hitched to the wagon. Norman Bradley was to ride Kate, and Norman Harris was to have Dixie for his saddle horse.

Immediately afterward, having said good-bye to my old camping partners and Mrs. Lancaster, we pulled out for Delta, Colorado.

Mr. Adams had given me letters of introduction to various people along the route, so that I did not have that lonesome feeling in starting on this second lap of the journey into the mountains that I did starting on the first lap into the desert.

Chapter XII

The Mountains

We leave Grand Junction a new party, but with the same outfit, except a new horse. We arrange our work practically the same way as before, Mr. Bradley, or "Brad" as he is dubbed for convenience, doing the cooking, Norman (Bradley) and Norman (Harris), dubbed "Pete" for identification purposes, doing the packing, dishwashing, and scouting.

The horses fell to my lot as usual, as well as the driving, in which Brad sometimes took a hand.

Our first objective point was Delta, about forty-five miles up the Gunnison River, along which the Denver & Rio Grande narrow gauge runs.

Our road, however, was several miles away from the river and railroad, and through a deserted country. We did not leave Grand Junction until the afternoon of July sixth, and we drove about sixteen miles before making camp, just beyond Kannah Creek, beside an irrigation ditch. Our new horse Cyclone was a bit fast and flighty, but so far not harmful, and we took special pains to see that he did not break loose and go back home. The boys had to try out their small calibre rifles on the prairie dogs and doves near camp. They had better success. .h.i.tting doves than dogs, so we had some doves for breakfast.

Our first night out we slept on the ground, although as there were only four of us we could have slept in the wagon, which we did afterward to be sure not to be rained on and also to avoid rocks, which were usually too numerous for comfort, and it was too much of a task to clear a large enough s.p.a.ce for sleeping quarters.

The next morning we had everything working smoothly. Brad was an old camper and good cook and had no trouble in holding up his end, so that we were off at seven o'clock. At least we started to start, but Cyclone, when the wagon did not start easy on account of a big boulder under the wheel, decided to go backward. I got into an argument with him at once, but concluded it policy to agree with him, so we went backward. He soon tired of that way of going and we resumed our onward way.

Our road had about five miles of rocks and two bad hills, but we stayed right side up. By 2 P. M. we had come about twenty-five miles and, having reached the Gunnison River, we decided to stop for the day. We had been without water since morning, and our route had been a dry and dusty one, so we hailed the river and gra.s.s with delight.

The boys went fishing while Brad and I sewed a flap on the wagon sheet. They came back with a sucker and a bullhead, or rather they brought back only two fish, one sucker and one bullhead, both caught by Norman.

This camp with running water, shade, and gra.s.s was the best we had had since starting from California. I expect now that we are getting close to the mountains we will have plenty of wood and water and some very beautiful places to camp.

We were troubled some with mosquitoes for the first time, so got out our mosquito netting. We did not have much need for it afterward except occasionally when camping by a stream in the woods.

Next morning, Friday, July eight, we drove into Delta. This is quite a prosperous town and the country immediately surrounding it is well irrigated, and the farmers along the river look as though they were all doing well. We spent the best part of the day here. We had tires set on two wheels and besides making a few purchases, we lightened our load by sending home the tent and cots we had taken on again at Grand Junction; also a box of clothes.

We intended to get our lunch at the hotel, but when we went over there about noontime the proprietor, a woman, was evidently quite alarmed for the safety of her guests and told us she was sorry, but we could not register. We probably did look like desperate characters and so, being refused admittance to the hotel, we went on down the street and found a lunch counter where we got what we wanted. The boys were quite elated to think that we had been refused admittance to the hotel because we looked so much like desperadoes, but Brad and I concluded the woman was a tenderfoot and her real reason for being fussed was that we had no coats.

Our wagon was not to be ready until later, so we had time to look the town over, and then came back and helped the blacksmith set the tires.

We were all ready at four-thirty, so started for the next place, a town called Hotchkiss, where I had a letter to Mr. Simonds, president of the North Fork Bank, and I expected to interview him regarding the roads.

Leaving Delta we found the roads were good for eight or nine miles, or as far as we went that afternoon. We crossed the Gunnison River again just before we made camp. The river from here up apparently has no banks, but runs through a canyon, with perpendicular walls in places, which several miles farther up is several thousand feet deep. It is called the "Black Canyon of the Gunnison," and while we got several glimpses of the river a few days later, it was nearly a week before we got down to it again.

Our camp near the river was disagreeable on account of mosquitoes and dead cattle, the latter being in evidence near all water holes. The season has been so dry, and the water so scarce, and what there was so bad, that I presume more cattle died this summer than usual.

We left early the next morning and by eleven-fourteen were at Hotchkiss, sixteen miles, and up grade all the way. Here at the north fork of the Gunnison we camped and I saw Mr. Simonds. He told us about the road and I found we would have to travel seventy-five miles before getting down to the river level again. We would go through Crawford and Crystal Creek and up over the Black Mesa and then down again to Sapinero, which was on the river and also the railroad. He thought we could make the trip through O. K., although it was not easy, but when I asked him if there was any easier way he laughed and said, "Not unless you can fly"; and we often wished we could before we got to Sapinero.

We reached Crawford, about fourteen miles from Hotchkiss, at 5 P. M.

It lies in a pretty valley and, while it is an old town, the inhabitants were evidently quite prosperous, as they were mostly putting up new houses or adding to the old ones. We stopped just outside the town by a brook, and had a good camp. We had come thirty miles that day and felt we were making good progress.

The next morning we drove twelve miles to Crystal Creek, reaching there at ten-thirty. There was no town here--just the creek and a ranch house and the remains of a sawmill. The telephone company is putting a line through here and hauling poles down from the mountains.

We met some of the teamsters who told us about the road over the Black Mesa, and as we had a good place to camp, we concluded to stay here the balance of the day and rest up the team. We caught enough trout here for supper, the first we had had, but the creek was so small, and the brush so thick, it was nearly impossible to fish at all, although there were plenty of fish. We did not turn in until 9 P. M. on account of the mosquitoes, but by that time it had turned so cold they disappeared, and we were left in peace.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CAMP ON BLACK MESA]

The next morning we got an early start. Our road led straight up onto the mesa, a five-mile climb, and here it was that our new horse showed his poor qualities to advantage, or rather, our old horses showed their good ones. We had climbed about four miles, most of the way nearly straight up, when on a particularly steep turn Cyclone gave up.

I couldn't induce him to try again, and not being in a place where I could take any chance of getting backed off the road down the mountain side, I took him out and told Pete to let me have Dixie. The boys thought that if Cyclone couldn't pull the wagon up with Bess's help, poor little Dixie surely couldn't, but they didn't know Dixie and I did, and was not disappointed. She and Bess pulled that wagon up to the top, much to the delight of the boys, who amused themselves by making slighting remarks about Cyclone. We reached the top at ten o'clock and there we put Cyclone back into the harness, and that was the last time we ever had any real trouble with him.

Starting on we had a splendid drive for five miles through the most wonderful of Nature's parks; immense pines, a profusion of flowers of all colors with the Indian Paint Brush scattered here and there among them. One could imagine some landscape gardener had laid out the grounds, except for the immensity of it. Snow-capped mountains in the distance completed the scene, and when we camped at noon we felt we would like to spend several days here. The gra.s.s was knee-high in the little parks and our horses had not had such good feed since starting.

It certainly was worth climbing up just to be here, and we lingered longer than usual for lunch, and then drove only five miles farther before camping for the night on a little creek that runs down a canyon into the Gunnison River below.

We dished one of our hind wheels again coming down a steep rocky piece of road, and had to take it off and put it on the other side after dishing it back; but we are getting used to little things like this, and bad roads, so take them philosophically. We fished some in this creek where we camped, but, while we saw a few trout, could not induce any to bite. That night we had a fine camp fire and the horses a good rest and good feed.

This is the Gunnison Forest Reserve and we were surprised to find several hundred cattle up here, but later ascertained that the Government allows a certain number to be pastured up here at twenty cents per head a month for cattle, and thirty cents for horses. There are no sheep up here; the cattle men killed them off, and while there was quite a row over it, probably no one will try sheep for a while.

They can only pasture them here for three months, July, August, and September. There is no grazing before July and too much snow after September, so it makes a very short season.