CAMP LIFE IN NEW MEXICO 



109 



hind this rock we vowed tliat we woukl 

 again return to enjoy this charming 

 spot at our leisure. Before noon of the 

 next da)' we were at the ruin on the 

 high mesa overlooking all this valley 

 land and the black lava country beyond. 

 In the sides of the rock were little cliff 

 houses where the guard for the crops 

 was no doubt posted in those olden 

 days. We were loath to leave. That 

 evening we had a memorable horseback 

 ride up the caiion to another even more 

 picturesquely situated ruin, where a 

 little stream of water from a spring 

 came tumbling down the hillside. It 

 was dark when we galloped back into 

 camp, where a roaring fire had been 

 prepared to light our return. 



It was in October, I think, that we 

 came one evening near the Indian vil- 

 lage of Santa Ana, and it was raining. 

 We had passed through the more shel- 

 tered wooded section of that part of the 

 country to the sandy wastes opposite 

 Santa Ana, hoping to cross the stream 

 into the town to procure feed for the 

 horses. The river had been rising, how- 

 ever, and we were obliged to turn back 

 after crossing part way. We shall none 

 of us soon forget that experience. The 

 rain was descending in torrents, the 

 wind blowing a gale, and there was no 

 shelter. The little sleeping tents were 

 hastily set up on a sand hill, and after 

 drinking a cup of coffee made over the 

 flame from a burning packing box, we 

 took refuge in our beds. The poor 

 horses had a sorry time, with no feed 

 and only such slight protection as the 

 shelter of the wagon might afford. 



From this time on until we arrived 

 again at Aztec, our experiences were 

 somewdiat checkered. At Jemez Springs, 

 a truly beautiful place, where the hot 

 sulphur water bubbles joyously from 

 the ground and a fine stream of water 

 tears madly down the narrow caiion, we 



rested a day while the sun shone, to dry 

 our belongings and take advantage of 

 the baths. This was in a forested re- 

 gion at an elevation of nearly eight 

 thousand feet. Now if it hadn't been 

 for the kindness of heart of the head of 

 the expedition, who decided that we stay 

 another day for the benefit of the horses, 

 possilily he would not have lost himself 

 on top of the mesa in the bitter cold, 

 and perhaps our little saddle pony, 

 Daisy, would not have become lamed in 

 some mysterious manner. On that fate- 

 ful morning — it was Friday, the thir- 

 teenth—the leader of the expedition 

 (after deciding that we remain the ad- 

 ditional day for the sake of the horses) 

 concluded that good time must not be 

 wasted and that therefore he would 

 take this occasion to locate definitely 

 the ruins said to lie on the mesa oppo- 

 site camp. He decided thus, in spite 

 of the fact that the sun was again sulk- 

 ing behind the clouds and there was 

 every indication of rain — for an ex- 

 ]5lorer must often take chances if he is 

 to gain results. He shouldered his 

 knapsack soon after breakfast and set 

 forth. When it began to rain later on. 

 we thought he woiild surely return. He 

 did not come. The situation of our 

 camp, so pleasing in the sunshine of 

 the day before, now had all that dreari- 

 ness of aspect which a cold, drizzling 

 rain and wet soggy ground can produce. 

 I retired to the tent and tried to keep 

 warm by a lantern, while I read or 

 sewed. The day dragged away and 

 when darkness began to descend I lie- 

 came seriously alarmed, especially as 

 we found that the footbridge across the 

 stream had been washed away by the 

 rising current. Visions arose of all 

 sorts of calamities which might befall 

 one who was wandering alone in the for- 

 est without shelter or food. Little sleep 

 came that night, and great was the 



