SMITHSONIAN EXPLORATIONS, I93I 120, 



above its stream bed and which we reached only by inching onr way 

 along precarious ledges and through some of Arizona's prickliest cacti, 

 had been utilized by an owl, nothing more. 



Natanes Plateau, locally known as " the Nantacs," ''' the Nantans " 

 or " the Nantes," overlooks the remainder of Gila and Graham coun- 

 ties from an elevation of more than 5,000 feet. As one descends from 

 the pine forests about Sawmill the temperature changes perceptibly 

 and, with it, the fauna and flora. From the southwest base of the 

 plateau, fringed with mesquite, catclaw, and like thorny shrubs, miles 

 of seemingly level grasslands stretch away southward to end abruptly 

 on the very brink of dreadful chasms, tributary to the placid Gila 

 River. Within these silent gorges giant sahuaros reach skyward their 

 stubby fingers just as on the hotter Arizona deserts. 



Not until we had crossed the headwaters of Blue River, Rocky 

 Creek, and Warm Springs Creek ; not, indeed, until we had passed 

 Ash Creek ranch, former rendezvous of the Chiricahua Cattle Com- 

 pany, and climbed out upon that vast and marvelously level valley 

 ignominiously known as Ash Flat did we find the underlying forma- 

 tions of the Nantacs presenting themselves. Cautiously at first and 

 then with sudden boldness thick layers of basalt, conglomerate, and 

 limestone thrust out scarred faces to form towering cliffs. At their 

 base, in the band of conglomerate or volcanic breccia, rock shelters 

 and caves of greater or lesser size occur at irregular intervals. 



Our prime objective in this vicinity was a rock shelter containing 

 four old baskets. The covert lay hidden by thick oak brush close on 

 the left side of a rocky gully. Sergeant Howard's memory was quite 

 clear as to essential details. He had seen the baskets some years be- 

 fore while pursuing a mountain lion. His dogs, on an upper terrace, 

 were barking " treed " ; he was hurrying to reach them. Unexpectedly, 

 his way was blocked by an unscalable ledge in a miniature gorge. He 

 had turned sharply to the left, glimpsed the baskets in passing — and 

 had given them no further thought until swapping observations with 

 my friend, the one-time cowpuncher. 



But our search was not a day old before we learned that every rockv 

 gully at the south foot of the Nantacs is, in part, a miniature gorge. 

 And every gorge is barred by a wall that cannot be scaled ; every one 

 is bordered by oak brush so thick and tangled that, to quote the ser- 

 geant, "you can't stick a knife in it." There remained but to search 

 every nook and cranny on the mountain side. Peering behind bushes 

 and into hidden corners ; scrambling up perpendicular cliffs and 

 scrambling down again we missed few, if any, holes in which primitive 

 man had found refuge (fig. 120). And we missed very few of the 

 cacti that cling to the skirts of Natanes Plateau. 



