130 
thing I said to you was: ‘What do you make 
of this, partner—a fellow roamin’ the desert 
without a gun or even a bow an’ arrow?” 
“That’s just what you said,” Old Timer 
agreed. “Well, we rode steady across the desert 
all day, never gettin’ out of a walk on account 
of the pack animals. There was lots of ante¬ 
lope in the country then—some left yet for that 
matter—an’ along in the afternoon Sonora here 
killed a buck out of a band of ’em. While some 
of the boys was cuttin’ it up I noticed a little 
cloud of dust risin’ away off on our back trail 
an’ spoke about it. ‘Some kind of an outfit is 
followin’ us,’ says I. Everybody looked up an’ 
watched it, an’ every last one of ’em allowed it 
was nothin’ but a twister. It disappeared in a 
minute or two, but I felt certain it was dust 
raised by animals’ feet; ’cause why, it didn’t 
twist any, just risin’ straight up like a little 
fog bank. The cholo, too, seemed to be mighty 
interested in it, an’ all the rest of the afternoon 
he was sure uneasy, lookin’ back frequent when 
he thought no one was watchin’ him. 
“We made a dry camp, but that didn’t matter, 
the burros could easy go another day without 
water, an’ of course we had a plenty for our¬ 
selves. The next evenin’ the cholo said we 
would camp at a small tank at the foot of the 
mountains, an’ the mornin’ after a walk of a 
mile or two would bring us to the find. 
“ ‘Can’t we ride up to the place?’ I asked. 
“‘No,’ said he, ‘it is too rough; the best route 
I found to it is up a narrow arroyo which has 
several drops in the bed rock that a burro could 
not pass.’ 
“‘How is it that you have no gun? How do 
you live without one ?’ Sonora asked him that 
evenin’. 
“ ‘Oh, I did have one,’ he replied, ‘until a few 
days ago, and then I fell—it slipped out of my 
hand and over a cliff where I could not regain 
it. I still had some meat, a little meal, and 
then the next day I made the great find, where¬ 
upon I came straight to tell the senor patron—of 
whom I had heard so much, all about it.’ 
“Well, that was all possible, of course, but 
still I believed he was lyin’. ‘What kind of a 
gun was it?’ I asked. 
“ ‘It was a fine muzzle-loading rifle, of Amer¬ 
ican make,’ he said. 
“Along about dusk he went out to take care 
of his burro an’ I went through his panniers, 
finding no powder nor bullets, nothin’ to show 
that he had ever owned a gun. The judge said 
he hadn’t seen him have any such things; that 
he had left nothin’ at the ranch. ‘Would it be 
reasonable for a man to throw away such stuff, 
worth good money, even if he had lost his gun?’ 
I asked the boys, an’ they all allowed it 
wouldn’t. 
“The next evenin’ we struck the tank at the 
foot of the range. Close to the water was the 
remains of a fire where the cholo said he had 
camped. He had told us that he prospected 
from this point a week, but it didn’t look to me 
that a fire had been built more than once, I 
couldn’t see where anyone had laid down, or 
picketed a burro or eat any meat that had bones 
in it. More an’ more I distrusted the fellow. 
‘If he’s puttin’ up a job on us,’ I kept sayin’ to 
myself, ‘what’s it goin’ to be like, an’ when is 
he goin’ to spring it?’ 
“Along in the afternoon another little dust 
«loud had raised behind us, but besides the 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
cholo, none noticed it except Sonora, here, an’ 
me. The sight of it made the Mexican sure 
nervous, an’ he kept lookin’ back all the rest 
of the day. “We’re bein’ followed,’ I whis¬ 
pered to Sonora, when I had a chance, an’ he 
allowed that we were. 
“The sink was at the edge of a rock wall, 
an’ down in the bottom of a big wash. Sonora 
an’ me picked out a camp ground on top of 
the ridge, overlookin’ it, where we could see 
quite a distance in every direction. When it 
came bed time I told the boys that we better 
take turns standin’ guard, an’ they agreein’, I 
told off the ones for the different watches. 
Nothin’ happened, though; the fact is, Sonora 
an’ I had made up our minds that the cholo 
was leadin’ us into some kind of a trap. Neither 
of us slept a wink. 
“After breakfast the next mornin’ we started 
out to have a look at the cholo’s find. He 
pointed out where it lay, about two miles off, 
it looked like, almost to the top of the biggest 
A BEAVER DAM IN THE ADIRONDACK^. 
peak in the bunch. He took the lead, right be¬ 
hind him was Sonora, then the rest of the boys, 
I last. I had made up my mind that we wan’t 
goin’ to see any gold lead, that if we were 
goin’ into a trap we were right at the edge of 
it, but the cholo led off so spry an’ cheerful 
like that I began to think I might be wrong. 
I didn’t really know what to think. Sometimes 
I suspicioned that the fellow was just nutty, an 
plumb harmless. 
“We followed up a wash, just as the cholo 
had said it would be, crossed by a high ledge 
every now an’ then. It was a very wide one, 
from both ways the mountain slopin’ to it grad¬ 
ual. About half a mile from camp it narrowed 
up, though, and on each side was a high wall 
of black lava. Well, sir, when we were about 
two hundred yards from this place, blim! blim! 
blim! went a lot of guns on the south side of 
it, followed by whoops an’ yells, an’ a whole 
lot of Injuns broke from the rocks where they 
had been cached, an’ came tearin’ down to cross 
the wash below the canyon. Behind came more 
Injuns, shootin’ at ’em an’ droppin’ one here, 
one there. We could see at a glance that the 
first were Apaches, on account of the way they 
had their hair cut straight across their foreheads. 
At the first sight of ’em breakin’ for the wash 
the cholo gave a sort of a cry an’ started to 
run in the same direction they were goin’, but 
Sonora stopped him short with a bullet between 
his shoulders—” 
“You bet,” the latter put in, “I plunked him 
proper.” 
[July 24, 1909- 
“Well, we all took a hand in the row, an’ for 
the next couple of minutes there was a heap 
of firin’ an’ yellin’, an’ some more of the 
Apaches went down. It was surprisin’, though, 
how quick the most of ’em got across the wash 
an’ disappeared. Then down came the other 
bunch of Injuns toward us, puttin’ in a finishin’ 
touch here an’ there on the wounded Apaches. 
They were Pimas, an’ with ’em, proud an’ 
happy, was the judge’s Pete. He ran down an’ 
shook the old man’s hand, and in his broken 
Spanish gave us qn astonishin’ tale. How that 
he had been mad when the judge told him that 
he couldn’t go with us. But when he got home 
and told about the Mexican the judge was goin’ 
with off on the desert, a woman who had been 
captured once by the Apaches asked if the fel¬ 
low had a nick in the right ear, an’ the boy 
remembered seein’ it. Then he was a bad man, 
she told them, a Mexican who lived with the 
Apaches and went on raids with them every¬ 
where. At that, some fifty of the Pimas had 
saddled up and followed us, and seeing that we 
were heading for the mountain sheep tank, as 
they called it, had circled our camp the second 
night, and caching their horses, found and 
pounced upon the enemy as they lay in wait for 
us. 
“Well, that ended that expedition right there, 
an’ we about faced an’ hiked back to the Gila. 
You bet we didn’t forget Pete, either. He sure 
got enough presents to set him up for life, but 
he was a reckless cuss an’ lost everythin’ to the 
Papagos, playin’ Spanish monte.” 
Vacation. 
When the city’s ways are dusty and the weather’s grow¬ 
ing hot, 
And you’re weary of the sordid days that fate seems to 
allot; 
Where the rush tor gold and power is the only thing 
you see, 
And you yearn for open spaces, where the world is broad 
and free, 
Now you pack your bag and baggage, and I’ll tell yot 
where you go, 
To the woods , 
And to a cabin, 
Or a tent 
Or bungalow. 
Far beyond the city’s murmur, and its traffic and it: 
roar, 
There’s a cabin bearing “Peace” upon the lintel of iti 
door; I j 
There’s a stream that sings beside it, and in branches 
just above 
Birds a-flutter in the sunlight caroling their tales of love 1 
Then it’s here’s the spot you’re hunting, where ai 
honest joy you’ll know, 
In the woods 
And in a cabin, 
Or a tent 
Or bungalow. 
You’ll forget the city’s rumble, its worry and its care, 
And the joy of life and living you will gather even 
where; 
In the fields and flowing waters, in the light wind' 
gentle sigh, 
In the odor of the woodlands, in the trees and in the skyi 
And you’ll hold within your spirit all life’s sweetes 
dreams aglow. 
In the woods, | 
And in a cabin. 
Or a tent 
Or bungalow. 
H. T. Fee. 
The Forest and Stream may be obtained fror 
any neivsdealer on order. Ask your dealer t 
supply you regularly. 
