24 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
gLOST IN A BLIZZARD IN 
THE MOUNTAINS OF NEW MEXICO 
A Newspaper Man's Experience of Danger, Hunger and 
Sickness on a Drive through the Mexican Hamlets 
[By M. J. Brown, Editor Little Valiey (N. Y.) Hub.) 
JI had an experience of cold, hun- 
ger and sickness in the mountains of 
New. Mexico. in February that I 
will long remember, and while it 
may make pretty good newspaper 
stuff, | do not care for any more as- 
signments at the price. 
North of Sante Fe-but one rail- 
road breaks the bleakness of that 
state for a hundred miles in any di- 
rection, the Denver and Rio Grande, 
a narrow gauge which climbs the 
mountains at from six to eight cents 
per mile, one train a day, Sundays 
excepted. 
I went north for a few hours, 
counted my money and got off at a 
little mountain town, a town with 
two stores, two saloons and a restau- 
rant. There I found a county offi- 
cial who had business in the: Mexi- 
can hamlets in the west, and with 
a driver we started for a four days’ 
drive through Culebra mountains. 
The second day out at noon, a 
haze came over the sun and the air 
beeame cold. In an hour it was 
nearly dark. In two hours a bliz- 
zard, the worst I ever experienced, 
came down from Colorado, and liter- 
ally filled those mountains and val- 
leys with fine snow. The wind was 
piercing. 
Then things began to go wrong, 
and I began to wish I had mother to 
advise me. 
You will have to experience it to 
appreciate the feelings one gets in 
such a situation. The country is 
weird and foreboding at its best 
Everything is so strange, so unreal, 
and while wonderfully fascinating 
yet under its brightest sunshine it 
is depressing. 
And then when a blizzard shuts 
everything in and covers the trails 
until you ean’t see anything that 
ever looked like a road; when you 
feel the intense cold getting into 
your veins and night settling down; 
when you hear a mountain lion set 
up his roar from a mountain side; 
and when you think that there are 
none but Penitent fanatics within 
fifty miles of you—wlhat? Nothing 
like it, fellows... Try it onee. 
The driver urged the tired ponies 
along, and the snow kept getting 
deeper, when uncertain as to his 
course, all the trails being hidden 
he stopped, admitted he was not 
sure where he was, and called a 
council, 
Ile was for camping where we 
were for the night, but the facet that 
we had no ax to cut wood for a fire 
or to build a shelter for the team the 
proposition looked very unfavorable 
to my companion, a Mr. Bloom, who 
urged the driver to push on. 
While the mountains are covered 
with cedar brush and some larger 
timber, there is seldom a dead stick 
to be found anywhere, andthe mat- 
ter of a fire was vital to us_half- 
frozen men. 
The driver said he would go down 
a canyon a mile and if we did not 
find some habitation, we would have 
to roll up in our buggy blankets and 
chance it. 
And just as we had given up hope 
and was about to stop the team, we 
ran onto a Mexican ’dobie. So dense 
was the snow fall that had we gone 
twenty feet out of the course we 
came we would never have seen it. 
There was no sign of life in the 
mud house, but in answer to our 
calls a Mexican opened the door. 
We didn’t ask if we might, we 
simply went in. 
There were two young Mexicans 
and two Mexican girls inside, ap- 
parently brothers and _ sisters.» One 
of them explained to the driver that 
the father was a herder in the 
mountains, that he had the ax with 
him, and they had but a few sticks of 
wood. He said they had but little 
to eat—and he told a Mexican truth. 
The girl cooked some tortillas over 
the fire place, and made some coffee 
—that is we thought it was coffee. 
The Mexican paneakes were abso- 
lutely without any seasoning, and 
as there was nothing to eat on them, 
we could not force them down. 
But the coffee looked good to me, 
chilled through as I was, and I emp- 
tied the cup at a drink. It didn’t 
taste right. It tasted of anything 
and everything but coffee. But it 
was hot, and I passed up my tin eup 
for number two when the driver told 
me not to drink any more. 
He said the coffee was evidently 
made of cedar bark and soap weed, 
(the usual coffee with the Mexicans) | 
but that there was a pecular taste , 
he did not know or like, and advised 
us to pass it up. 
With coffee off the menu ‘there 
was nothing left we would touch, so 
the girl showed us to the other end 
of the house, separated by a parti-— 
tion. 
The room was good sized and 
there was a fireplace in the end, but— 
no wood. There were two beds, or 
rather two bed frames, with two 
ticks and four pillows stuffed with 
grass, but there was not a sign of 
any covering of any kind. 
From the buggy we got our robes, 
and being half frozen, the three of 
us got onto one bed, with all our 
clothes on, and covered up. 
In about an hour I was taken vio- 
lently sick and I crawled out in the 
zero atmosphere and deposited my 
supper (and coffee) in the fire place. 
No sooner had I got back under 
cover when Mr. Bloom put his sup- 
per with mine, and a little later the 
driver was up trying to find the 
grate. 
All three of us were sick all night, 
and I had it proper. Once, late in ~ 
the night, when I was making about 
the twentieth search for the hole in 
the wall, I plainly saw somebody or 
something come before the window 
above my head, and stay there. I 
knew it might be a dog or a cat; but I 
sang out to Bloom to hand me his .45, 
when, whatever it was, vanished. 
I awoke the men and -we- talked 
things over. The driver was of the 
opinion that an attempt had been — 
made to drug and rob us, and that 
we either drank too little-or too 
much of the coffee. 
Mr. Bloom, who was a shériff’s 
officer, was of the opinion they 
thought he was hunting some of 
their number and wanted to flag him, 
while I could only think of the Peni- 
tenties and their rites I witnessed 
two days before. ee 
But we were three sick, cold men 
that night, and, after the shadow at 
the window, we took turns holding 
the gun until morning. 
Only the girl and the smaller boy 
were in the ‘dobie in the morning. 
We were too sick to hold any inves- 
tigations, and getting the team from 
the log pen we started on. 
I was very sick, much worse than 
the other men, and the driver pro- 
duced a small bottle of aconite and 
advised me to take some. He didn’t 
know how much a dose was, neither 
did I, so he poured out about.a tea- 
spoonful in the cover of an oil can, 
and, I, swallowed it. ‘Thanks toa 
sick stomach, which rejected it, Tam 
yet alive. Tle had given me enough 
to kill a man. 
(This letter will be conehided next 
week.) 
