174 NEW TRACKS IN NORTH AMERICA. 
among great boulders resembles a thread, and your head 
swims as you gaze down from the brink, the course lies east- 
north-east ; and where none but the Apache has ever gone 
down before, and he on foot, you have to lead your horse, 
jumping out of his way when he slips and slides on the bare 
rock, and dodging the loose boulders which are rolled down 
by the column following you. 
It is assumed in this country that wherever an Indian 
has made a foot trail a pack mule can follow. We expected 
to come across many such paths, and, after our previous 
experience, would have been much surprised had we not met 
some of the trail makers as well as their trails. In the 
ascent of this cafion by which we are camped there was 
considerable difficulty. One strong mule, who had nearly 
reached the top, slipped and rolled over and over till he 
reached the bottom—dead. Another tumbled nearly as far, 
but must have’ had a very steady and well ordered brain, 
as the moment he struck the river-bed below, he stood up on | 
his feet, and has made a day’s march with us since; but we 
had to shoot him yesterday. A third tumbled half-way 
down, and is an ugly spectacle, with his gashed eye and 
flank, but is marching along all right now, doing regular 
service. 
But very few days have passed since leaving Prescott’ in 
which we did not meet recent signs of Indians; the rude 
wigwams of bunch grass and branches, which the Arizonians 
call “wicky-ups;” the moccasin tracks ; the mescal heaps, 
where the Indian has been roasting his supply of winter 
subsistence, composed almost entirely of this root ; the sweat- 
ing-house or earth oven, which he gets into when sick, and 
which is almost his sole remedy for disease ; the fresh trail, 
and the “rancheria,” or village of a greater or less number of 
Oe 
