THE DESEET 



The descent. 



The Padres. 



loved it. They were content and that was 

 enough. 



What finally became of them ? Who knows ? 

 One by one they passed away, or perhaps were 

 all slaughtered in a night by the fierce band 

 newly come to numbers called the Apaches. 

 This stone wall stands as their monument, but 

 it tells no date or tale of death. As I descend 

 the trail of stone the fancy keeps harping on 

 the countless times the bare feet must have 

 rubbed those blocks of syenite and porphyry 

 to wear them so smooth. Have there been no 

 others to clamber up these stairs of stone ? 

 What of the Padres were they not here ? 

 As I ride off across the plain to the east the 

 thought is of the heroism, the self-abnega- 

 tion, the undying faith of those followers of 

 Loyola and Xavier who came into this waste so 

 many years ago. How idle seem all the specious 

 tales of Jesuitism and priestcraft. The Padres 

 were men of soul, unshrinking faith, and a per- 

 severance almost unparalleled in the annals of 

 history. The accomplishments of Columbus, 

 of Cortez, of Coronado were great ; but what 

 of those who first ventured out upon these sands 

 and erected missions almost in the heart of the 

 desert, who single-handed coped with dangers 



