THE ANIMAS 119 



For miles on either side, north and south, ridge upon 

 rolling ridge shot out from the main range, con- 

 stantly decreasing in height as they extended east- 

 ward. Between them were the canyons, which, be- 

 ginning at the top in shallow draws, steep and 

 boulder strewn, etched in by the overflow of snow 

 and rain, merged ere long to make larger creeks. 

 These in turn, further down, came together in 

 ragged, rocky boxes, where sheer cliffs rose dizzily, 

 and flowing on through canyons ever wider and 

 deeper, formed the main rivers, for each of which 

 its respective watershed was named. 



The Animas proper was the chief of these final 

 streams. The river bed itself was not visible from 

 where we stood, but we could see the high walls of 

 the canyon through which the stream flowed, and be- 

 yond the first confusion of mountains where the 

 smaller tributaries came together, the two timber- 

 covered ridges that outlined its course. Growing 

 gradually lower and lower, these ridges flattened at 

 length into open grassland, where the canyon seemed 

 a mere dark gash in the soft green of the mesa. 



For many minutes we stood silent, rapt in the 

 grandeur of the scene. No wonder the Spaniards 

 picturesquely called the place Las Animas the 

 Canyon of the Spirits. Its weird majesty seemed to 

 fit the name; it looked a true abode for wandering 

 souls or for disembodied beings. 



Bert's matter of fact utterance at last broke the 

 spell. 



