30 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
THE LIFE OF THE ROUGH-GOING. 
A Story of the Range and the Stock of New Mexico of which 
Little is Known and Less is Printed. 
(By M. J. Brown, Eprror Lirrte Vauuey, N. Y., Hus) 
There are places and things, men 
and conditions to be found in the re- 
mote places and among the moun- 
tains of New Mexico and Arizona 
that but few of us know of—places 
that Pitt Hole in its wildest oil days 
would seem like a Sunday school in 
comparison. 
About twenty miles north of the 
Cliff Dwellers’ ruins, and twenty 
miles back from the Denver & Rio 
Grande’s narrow gauge railroad, is 
a lumber town, miners’ head quar- 
ters, Mexicans hang out, Indians re- 
sort and general round-up of rough 
necks, that must be about the tough- 
est place owned by the U.S. 
Here men fight it out, and end it. 
Grand juries and the penal ¢ode 
don’t bother these people. Some- 
times a U. S. marshall makes a bluff 
at investigating some bad affair that 
leaks down to the railroad towns, 
and sometimes the forest rangers 
will go in and cut out a flagrant case 
of crime. But on an average these 
men are law unto themselves and 
they make their own ordinances and 
enforce them in their own way. 
There is a great forest of yellow 
pine in this section, and a company 
hauls it twenty miles to a railroad. 
North, south and west there is no 
railroad for many miles, and this 
timber town is naturally a center for 
black, white, touch, gambler and fu- 
gative. 
I went to this region to see the 
great. stone lions, called the moun- 
tain lions of Cochite; but I did not 
see them. From an old mountaineer, 
who had lived forty years in these 
uplands, I learned that the reward 
was not worth the journey. He told 
me that many years ago these feti- 
ches were worth a journey from any- 
where to see, but that vandals, our 
Americans, who can see nothing 
wonderful in anything that has not a 
dollar behind it, dynamited these 
ancient idols to discover if there 
were not treasures buried under- 
neath. He said one was totally 
ruined, and the other partially des- 
troyed, and that the man who made 
the toilsome journey through the 
wild region would be disappointed. 
He said that these lions were carved 
out of some, life size, by unknown 
prehistoric people; that the present 
Indians hold them in reverence and 
travel many miles, at. certain sea- 
sons of the year, to anoint their 
heads and danee around them by 
night. 
And this is why I brought up in 
the timber camp, and here is what 
there was of it: : 
The lumber men were not. work- 
ing that day—why I did not find 
out. The Indian disturbance, and 
the wild rumors of a general upris- 
ing had brought many of the miners 
and speculators m, the Mexicans 
were all up in the air and sniffing a 
white man’s independence, because 
of the revolution against Diaz, and 
the day being misty and cold every- 
body flocked to that one publie shel- 
ter—hotel, saloon, gambling joint 
and general resort. 
And what a medley of men, and 
what a sight. Greasers, the tough, 
low-browed class that haunt such 
places. White men, the kind whose 
standing is determined by the size 
of the reward offered for them, and 
the soldiers of fortune, the bright, 
brainy men who the fever of gambl- 
ing or the lure of gold had drawn 
there. 
Over by the window was a game 
of draw poker, where men tried to 
conceal the excitement that was 
burning them by a nonchalant ex- 
terior. And that was a game _ con- 
eressmen would love to watch. 
The roof was the lmit, and 
when money was gone the men 
would bet their ponies and saddles. 
And at the other end of the room 
the Mexicans were playing their 
own game, with their own cards. 
They were more noisy than the 
white-faced gamblers, and there was 
a limit on their bets. 
And seattered around the room 
were white men, and forest rangers, 
not gambling but drinking. 
And then in walked an English- 
man, a young fellow with nose 
olasses and a natty outfit of a hunt- 
er. He walked up to the bar and 
_then faced the crowd, with that cool 
eurious stare that comes natural to 
“no man on earth but a Johnny Bull. 
He looked over that bunch of men 
as you would a cage of monkeys, 
and those men resented that stare— 
you could feel it in the air. ; 
Then he turned to the bartender 
and ordered a drink, I did not hear 
_ his order, but judged b - whos fe 
lowed it was sbone BR GUER nis 
else. 
(COR Fa an Re 
And then the bartender stare 
stock he don’t want to start. no 
or I'll have him walking . lami 
Sarvy the straight talk ?’’ lie R 
* The Englishman sized up the ma 
whose shoulders were dike a bulls 
breast and who nature had: negle et: 
ed to give a neck. He looked. the 
plug ugly over and no doubt deei¢ 
ed it, was better to play, policy 
to start something, so he,,told 
hooze hoister he never drank; wha 
key and asked if he; hadanything 
‘I’m running this irrigating. pro; 
ject. and if you don’t like; the wet 
goods, beat it. This is no ice.cre 
parlor, and you gets what the. g 
gets. If you are hunting mothers’ 
meetings or afternoon society; you 
re too for up the canyon... Here’s 
? 
it, if you haven’t, then drag. it’s, || 
The Englishman was no’ coward, 
but no doubt he eould smell 
pearly gates in that bar room.;.ane 
he didn’t care to go to them via al 
Colts automatie, so he took the bar. 
tender’s last words of. advice,.a 
‘‘dragged it’’. — 
That evening IT qwas sitting by? al 
table talking with, two rangers who 
I had become acquainted. with, aad 
was relating to them a ranger. in. 
cident that happened om the Mex 
cau border a year. before, of - how 
two rangers had captured a Mexicas 
who bad murdered a river guard. bo 
Then the Mexican ‘came tearing 
toward us. With a jump-he came to 
our table and struck his big» 
on it with a force that shattered t. 
poker chips about the room: He w 
wild eyed, drunk and ready: + 
something. . bey 
‘“T know whateyon say.ro Ii savy 
English. You curse Mexieano’’\> dnd 
then he went on raving with a string 
of frenzy that | could make nothi 
out of. . i" 
In a minute every Greaser™ was 
crowding to our table, and’ there 
were ten of them to one white man 
It all came: too quickly for one torg 
scared. I remembered that like thé 
FMnglishman, I had .started’ some 
thing, and | wished I had mothe 
trere to advise me. stil, ae 
Every man in the crowded room 
was on his feet, and while I was 
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