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In the Land of Cave and Cliff Dwellers

<h2 style="margin-top: 3em;">CHAPTER II.</h2> <big>NORTHWESTERN CHIHUAHUA (CONTINUED)—MEXICAN MORMON COLONIES—FROM LA ASCENSION TO CORRALITOS—SOME RUINS ALONG THE TAPASITA—A TOLTEC BABYLON.</big> It is sixty to sixty-five miles from Las Palomas to La Ascension, and not a settlement or a sign of life except jack rabbits, coyotes, and customhouse officers is to be seen throughout the whole length of this unusually rich country, so effectually did the Apaches enforce their restrictive tariff but a few years ago. At rare intervals great haciendas are found in these rich valleys, the main[35] industry of which is cattle raising. We passed a herd of about a thousand head just before reaching La Ascension, all in magnificent condition, and attended by some eight or ten vaqueros, who were driving them to market. With the usual Mexican politeness they took particular pains to give us the road; and to do so drove the whole herd over a high hill, around the base of which the road ran. Just before reaching La Ascension we came to the Mormon colony of Diaz (named by them in honor of the present President of the Mexican Republic), numbering about fifty families. A discussion of their religious tenets is clearly and fortunately out of my province, not only from its heavy, dreary character, but for the reason that everything wise and otherwise about Mormonism has already[36] been put before those who care to read it. But entirely aside from the subject of polygamy, which has so completely obscured every other point about these people, they have one characteristic which is seldom heard of in connection with them and their wanderings in the Western wilderness. I refer to their building up of new countries. They have no peer in pioneering among the Caucasian races. They are so far ahead of the Gentiles in organized and discriminating, businesslike colonization, that the latter are not close enough to them to permit a comparison that would show their inferiority. Of course they (the Mormons) see in their belief an ample explanation for this excellence; it is far more probable, however, as I look at it from my Gentile point of view, that it is due[37] to the peculiar organization of their Church, which so fits them for the work of making the wilderness blossom as the rose. No other Christian Church exercises so much authority over the temporal affairs of its members as the Mormon Church. However debatable this exercise of authority may be in civilized communities, surrounded by people of the same kind, there is no doubt in my mind as to its favorable effect upon pioneer associations, encompassed by enemies in man and nature. This view of the subject must be admitted by everyone who has grown up on the Gentile frontier and seen the innumerable bickerings between adjacent towns, the internal dissensions in the towns themselves, the rivalry for "booms," the shotgun contests for county seats, the thousands of exaggerations[38] about their own interests, and the hundreds of depreciations about those of others adjoining. As in its spiritual, so in its temporal affairs, the authority of the Mormon Church is remarkable for its effective power of centralization. It judicially settles all questions for the general, not the individual good; and upon this principle it determines, by the character of the soil, and by the natural routes of travel, where colonies shall locate, as well as what are the probable opportunities for propagation of the faith. It is not at all surprising to one who has observed these facts that an organized faith of almost any character should have flourished, though surrounded by so much disorganization. As a rule, at least from two to four years of quiet are needed after an Indian[39] war to restore such confidence among the whites that they can settle the disturbed district in a bona-fide way. I should, however, except the Mormons from this class, but to do so without an explanation would appear somewhat unreasonable. Their long and almost constant frontier experience has taught them how to weigh Indian matters correctly, as well as others pertaining to the ragged edge of civilization. Although the Apaches had been subdued a dozen times by the Mexican and American governments alternately, they knew when the subduing meant subjugation, and before Geronimo and his cabinet were halfway to the orange groves of Florida, Mormon wagon poles were pointing to the rich valleys of Northwestern Chihuahua. [40] They number here a few hundred families, a mere fraction in view of all the available land of the magnificent valleys of the Casas Grandes, Boca Grande, Santa Maria, and others; and they never will predominate politically or in numbers over the other inhabitants if we include the Mexican population, which is almost universally Catholic. In fact, those already established seem content merely to settle down and be let alone; this end they attain by purchase of tracts of land over which they can throw their authority and be a little community unto themselves, neither disturbing nor wishing to be disturbed by others. Their success has already invited the more avaricious, but less coldly calculating Gentile; and while it is stating it a little strong to say there is a "boom,"[41] or even indications of one, within the thirty to sixty miles between villages, my conscience is not disturbed in saying that I can at least agree with the great American poet that, <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> We hear the first low wash of waves Where soon shall roll a human sea. </div> </div> Already a railway was talked of, and the usual undue excitement was manifested. Every stranger was supposed to have something to do with it. Even my own little expedition was thought to be a sort of preliminary reconnoissance. I have never constructed a railway in my life, but I have been along the advancing lines of a number of new ones, and have seen them grow from two iron rails in a wilderness to a great country. I do not recall any that had much brighter prospects[42] ahead than the proposed one along the eastern slopes of the Sierra Madres. That it must be built some day the resources of the country clearly demand, and it is to be hoped that it will be at as early a date as possible. At La Ascension we were greatly indebted to Mr. Francis, a young English gentleman, who literally placed his house at our disposal, giving up his own room for our comfort. As there were no inns in La Ascension except those of the lowest order, this generous hospitality of the only Englishman in the town was warmly appreciated by us. One of our wagons having met with a slight accident, we remained over Sunday to await repairs. As soon as this was known to the inhabitants invitations began to pour in to attend cockfights, and one of especial magnitude[43] was organized in our honor. The finest cocks in the place were to take part, and the presidente or mayor of the town would preside. Then, to add distinction to the already exciting programme, a baile or ball was hastily gotten up for the evening. Hospitality could go no farther in this out-of-the-way town, for the people were really not rich enough to support a bullfight. Early in the morning, before the population had recovered from the dissipations of the previous night, we bade our hospitable host "good-by," and, wrapped in our heaviest coats against the chill morning air, we started southward toward Corralitos, about thirty-five or forty miles away. After crossing wide mesas and threading our way around the bases of many picturesque groups of mountains, we came to the Casas Grandes River and[44] valley, and along this stream, literally alive with ducks, we traveled for some hours. It was a great temptation to get out the guns and shoot at the ducks that were calmly sailing by us on the broad and rapid stream; but as we had neither dog nor boat it would have been impossible to secure them had we done so. The consoling thought was ours that the hacienda was not far distant, and there we would likely find everything necessary to assist us in this or any other sport. Approaching the hacienda we passed immense droves of horses and cattle grazing on the rich bottom lands. Corralitos has a very pretty, an almost poetical name, but it loses much of its romantic character when it is known that it is named for some old, dilapidated sheep pens that once existed here, corralitos being little[45] pens or little corrals. It is a hacienda, some eighty or ninety years old, with an extremely interesting history, that would make a book more thrilling than any fiction. The main building is a great square inclosure with very thick walls, having many loopholes for guns, and high turrets or towers at the corners. To enter the building are massive gates, while inside are a number of courts with other gates leading to other inclosures, and making the interior building appear like a small town. Here during the fierce Apache raids the whole population was gathered for protection, and the crack of Apache rifles has often been heard around the thick walls. Dons of Spanish blood have extracted fortunes from the mountain sides near by in mines that have been worked since shortly after the Conquest.[46] It is a hacienda of about a million acres in extent, and one of the most beautiful in the whole State of Chihuahua, the Casas Grandes River running for some thirty miles through the estate. The true hacienda, of which we hear so much in Mexican narration, is really a definite area of twenty-two thousand acres, but the name is now used so as to mean almost any estate, whether large or small, under one management. With the advance of railways haciendas are slowly disappearing, and will soon exist only in poetry or fiction. The views from the hacienda are beautiful in the extreme. To the east lies a range of mountains filled with seams of silver, the Corralitos Company working some thirty to forty mines; while one hundred and fifty to two hundred "prospects"[47] await development. These mines have been known and worked since the Spaniards entered this part of Mexico. To the west of the hacienda flows the Casas Grandes River, flanked on either side by enormous old cottonwood trees; while for a background rise the immense peaks of the Sierra Madres, covered with snow, and breaking into all sorts of fantastic shapes as they extend down toward the river. The Corralitos Company is owned mainly in the United States, New York capitalists being the principal stockholders. While at Diaz City I had learned from Dr. W. Derby Johnson, the ecclesiastical head of the Mormon colonies in Upper Chihuahua, that at the lower colony on the Piedras Verdes River a number of[48] ancient Aztec ruins were to be seen, very few of which had ever been heard of before. I determined to visit them as soon as possible, for the reason that Mr. Macdonald, the business manager of the lower colony, was expecting to leave shortly for Salt Lake City. This gentleman was unusually well acquainted with the country of the Piedras Verdes, having spent months in surveying it, and being more familiar with its ancient ruins than any other man living. Fortunately Dr. Johnson was going through to see him—a two days' trip—so to a certain extent we joined our forces for that time. Expecting to return to Corralitos, we left early one morning for a drive of about sixty miles to the lower Mormon colony of Juarez, named after Mexico's greatest President since the war of independence. [49] Twenty-five or thirty miles to the south of Corralitos we came to the town of Casas Grandes, said to consist of three thousand inhabitants, but we did not see three people as we drove through its seemingly deserted streets. It is the most important town in the valley, both historically and in point of numbers. It takes its name, meaning "big houses," from the ancient ruins situated in its suburbs, and comprising the largest found in this part of Mexico when it was first visited by Europeans many years ago. The name of the town has also been applied to the river which flows just in front of it, and which is formed by the junction of two others, the San Miguel and Piedras Verdes. The San Miguel is the straight line prolongation of the Casas Grandes, and is apparently[50] the true stream; but the Piedras Verdes is the more important, as its waters are perennially replenished by branches which rise in the never-failing springs of the sierras to the west. At Casas Grandes we left the river and struck out inland for the little Mormon colony on the Piedras Verdes River, a distance of some twenty or twenty-five miles. Like all other distances in this part of Mexico, there is not a sign of civilization between, not even a camping place, although the country traversed is a fine one for cattle grazing, with numerous beautiful valleys where farms could be made remunerative, and where three or four dozen houses ought to be seen if a tenth part of the country's resources were developed. As we crossed stretch after stretch of beautiful prairie, watered[51] by many little mountain streams, it seemed as though only a short time must pass before this fertile country would be dotted with hundreds of homes and thousands of cattle on its grassy hills. The meaning of Piedras Verdes is green rocks, but the rock projections in cliff, hill, or stream, are of all imaginable shades, not only of green, but of red, yellow, brown, rose, and even blue. The effect is inconceivably beautiful against the wonderful blue sky of this part of Mexico. Just before reaching the Mormon colony you come to a high ridge from which can be seen the little town nestling along the banks of the picturesque Piedras Verdes River. It is a scene seldom surpassed in beauty. Far to the west are the grand Sierra Madres, crested with snow, while nearer, the[52] great shaggy hills, covered with timber, and the many bright-colored rocks between, make up a picture that neither poet nor painter could depict. Juarez is a bright-looking little town of some fifty families, who raise all their own fruits and vegetables, and have a goodly supply for the less thrifty people of the surrounding country. Our party was kindly cared for by two or three of the Mormon families, as there were no other places of shelter beside their homes. The next day we started to visit the ancient ruins on the Tapasita River (a branch of the Piedras Verdes), which flows through as beautiful a little valley as I ever saw. Mr. Macdonald, the surveyor of this tract, kindly consented to accompany us, although he was overburdened with business incidental to starting[53] the next day for Salt Lake City. In the Tapasita valley I expected to find only a single well-defined group of ruins. Imagine my surprise, then, upon discovering that the entire country, especially in its valleys, was covered with such evidences. A high hill, called the Picacho de Torreon, had been occupied on its southern face by cliff dwellers; at our feet was a mass of rubbish that indicated a ruin of the latter people. Twelve miles up the Tapasita was still another extensive ruin of stone, while the intervening space was constantly marked by similar remains. In fact, as before stated, the whole valley was one vast continuation of ruins. We were surely on ground once occupied by an ancient and dense population—where the fertile resources of the country will again sustain another and a far more civilized[54] race. Even Juarez City found a great many such mounds on its site, and digging into some of them has revealed much of interest. Just before our arrival a pot or jar had been taken from one of the mounds, and was bought by me of the young boy who unearthed it. It is like many other jars from Casas Grandes, as well as from better known ruins, and that have already figured in works on Mexico. It differs, however, from most of them in having upon it the figure of a bird, as[55] representations of animals of any sort are very unusual upon their decorated surfaces. The bird seems more nearly to resemble the chaparral cock or California road runner than any other bird in this part of the world. Geometrical designs are frequent, and of these the zigzag, stairlike forms are the most common. Many other things had been found in this mound, including a number of utensils of pottery, together with the human bones of their makers. No doubt similar relics, with some variations, could be found in all these mounds. We saw, I think, many hundreds of these ruins in the Piedras Verdes region, most of them merely mounds suggestive of what they once were. Ancient ditches could also be plainly made out along the hillsides, showing that the former inhabitants cultivated[56] the rich soil of the valleys. They well understood the value of water, too, for around the bases of the small, streamless valleys leading into the watered ones were damlike terraces, evidently designed to catch and retain the water after showers until it was needed in the irrigating ditches. On the top of high hills adjacent were fortified places, apparently where they must have fled in times of danger from other tribes. They were a wonderful and interesting people, one that would repay careful study, even from the little evidence of their existence that is left. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG style="margin-top: 1em;" src="images/image7.jpg" width-obs="425" height-obs="230" alt="Ancient Jar Unearthed at Juarez City." /></div> ANCIENT JAR UNEARTHED AT JUAREZ CITY. On the Tapasita we came upon the ruins of what must have been a large city of these people—the largest we saw in that part of the country. The only life we saw there was a mountain lion[57] or panther, that came trotting along the valley until it saw us, when it turned back into the mountains. Truly the wild beasts were wandering over the Toltec Babylon. It is impossible for an artist to convey in plain black and white any idea of the beauty of this country; it is a land requiring the painter to exhibit its beauties. One of the interesting peculiarities of the numerous ruins found throughout this portion of the country, and that indicates a once dense population living off the soil, is the way in which most of them seem to have met their fate. When a ruined house is dug into all the skeletons of its occupants are found in what may be termed the combined kitchen and eating room,—these two[58] rooms being in one,—and always near a fireplace. The postures of these skeletons are as various as it is possible for the human body to assume. They are found kneeling, stretched out, sometimes with their locked hands over their heads, on their sides, and, again, with their children in their arms, hardly any two being alike in the same house or series of houses, where they were united into a pueblo. Now in the whole study of sepulture it has been almost universally found that even among the lowest savages as well as among the most civilized peoples, whatever form of burial is adopted, no matter how absurd from our point of view, it is uniform in the main points, allowing, of course, slight deviations for caste or rank. The positions of the skeletons in their own houses do[59] not accord with this general fact, and have led some to believe that this race was destroyed by an earthquake or other violent action of nature. I had a long talk with Mr. Davis, superintendent of the Corralitos Company, who has made a study of these ancient ruins from having them almost forced upon his attention. That gentleman not only believes they were cut off by a violent earthquake, as I have suggested, but that this great cataclysm caught them at their evening meal. He infers the latter fact from a consideration of the customs of the present almost pureblooded Indians here, who must have descended from the older race, although, singularly enough, knowing nothing of their ancient progenitors. The evening meal is the only occasion when they are[60] all gathered together at home. The earthquake must have been a very severe one, and have brought down the large buildings upon the occupants before they could escape. This region is not especially liable to such disasters. That it has them, however, occasionally, and severe ones too, is shown by the Bavispe earthquake of a few years ago, when that town was destroyed, some forty people killed, and the whole country shaken up. Mr. Davis goes on with his theory that the survivors were thus exposed to the mercy of their enemies (that they had enemies before is shown by their fortifications adjoining almost every village), and became cliff dwellers as a last resource to escape the fury of their old assailants. These, probably, were savages by comparison; and, living in savage homes, as[61] skin tents or wikeyups, and other light abodes, they suffered little from the great commotion referred to. When the partially vanquished race became strong enough they wandered southward as the first, or among the first, Toltec excursions in that direction. While at Corralitos Mr. Davis told me of some ruins situated about halfway between his hacienda and Casas Grandes, near Barranca. I visited them next day, and found a very noticeable and well-defined road leading straight up a hill to a slight bench overtopped by a higher hill at the end of the bench. Here was an ancient ruin, built of stone, and looking very much like a position of defense. It may have been a sacrificial place, for otherwise I cannot account for the careful construction of the road.[62] For defensive purposes it would not have been needed, especially one so well made; but observation has taught me that, when no other reasonable explanation can be found for doing a thing, superstitious or religious motives can be consistently introduced to account for it. This hill was really an outlying one from a larger near by and overlooking it. After climbing up the latter about halfway a series of stone buildings, not discernible from the bottom, were clearly made out. They encircled the hill, and about halfway between these and the top of the hill was another row of encircling buildings, faintly recognized by their ruins, although the masonry was of the best character. On the top of the hill was a fortification, with a well probably about twenty feet from the summit,[63] overtopped and almost hidden by a hanging mesquite bush. At the base of both hills was a series of mounds extending as far as the eye could reach. I almost fear to place an estimate on their number, nor can I positively say they represented buildings at all. In all or nearly all other mounds there is some sign of the house walls protruding through the débris; here I found none, but they closely resemble the other mounds except in this respect. Everything goes to show that these people were on the defensive, and that defense was often necessary. The ruins looked very much older than any others I had visited, but that can in a measure be accounted for, I think, by the sandy character of the district. Nothing makes an abandoned building or other work of man look so[64] antiquated as drifting sand piled up around it. This town, therefore, may have been contemporaneous with the ruined towns of the Casas Grandes valley generally, although the latter look much more recent from being built on more compact soil. As I have already more than hinted, all these valleys along the foothills of the Sierra Madre Mountains may have held a dense population when these ancient people sojourned here, and if the physical characteristics were the same as at the present time it is very easy to account for. To the westward it is too mountainous for many people to find homes and cultivate the soil, while to the eastward the country is too barren after one passes the line of the lakes, or where the mountain rivers sink.[65] The strip along the foothills, between the main ridge of mountains and the plains, is about the only place where an agricultural people could live in large numbers and thrive; and now that the dreaded Apache Indian has been finally subdued, I think the day is not far distant when it will be again peopled by a community engaged in peaceful pursuits. These ancients probably raised everything they needed, so that there was very little commerce between them, and not much need of roads or trails, although a few of them are occasionally made out with great distinctness. I have already spoken of the plainly marked road leading up the steep sides of Davis Hill. One can see this fully a mile away, although not able to fully make out its true character at that distance;[66] the observer might suppose it to be a strip of light grass in a depression, until his error was corrected by a closer inspection. The fortifications on the summit, considered from a military standpoint, were the most complete that could be desired. The hills retreated on both sides, giving full scope to the eye up and down the broad valley, every square yard of which was probably irrigated and cultivated. Without doubt the fortifications could safely be left unguarded in clear weather, when the inhabitants would probably be at work on their farms. A few keen-sighted sentinels, suitably posted, might give notice of a coming foe in ample time for the population to man the intrenchments before an attack could possibly be made by the most rapidly[67] moving enemy. This, of course, assumes that the able-bodied citizen of that day was equally an artisan or farmer and a soldier; it is an assumption, however, that accords with our knowledge of many other ancient races. On our way back to the hacienda from these ruins we passed through an old, abandoned Mexican mining town called Barranca. It plainly showed its ancient character in the long rows of slag that had come from the adobe furnaces, some of which were still standing. Although many of the adobe houses were in excellent condition, even the old church being in a fair state of preservation, there was not a soul about the place. The primitive methods of doing the work and the richness of the ore which had been smelted could be seen in[68] any piece of slag taken from the piles. By cutting a little almost pure lead and silver were revealed, probably in the same proportions as they existed in the vein. These piles of slag would represent a fortune, with new and improved machinery like that employed in the United States, to resmelt them, and with a railway running near. This place, moreover, is only one of the many where fortunes are lying dormant in the different slag piles of the old mines of northwestern Chihuahua alone. It is difficult to get information from the natives regarding the mineral wealth of the country. If they have a good mine they are exceedingly shy about saying so, and they are very jealous lest foreigners should obtain valuable mining property. They dislike to see it pass from under[69] their control, and do not take kindly to the foreign spirit of enterprise and improvement. This, however, is quite contrary to the policy of the Mexican Government, which is doing all it can to induce capital to come in for investment. The country is in a stable, settled condition, and we found every part that we visited quite as safe as the more settled communities of the United States. The politeness and disposition to oblige of the humblest of the Mexican people you can rely upon invariably, and that is more than can be said of the corresponding class in more enlightened countries. This day of our visit to the ruins of Davis Hill was very warm, and our driver, not having a taste for antiquarian research, even in the modest degree possessed[70] by me, had quite resented being dragged from the shade of the great cottonwood trees around the hacienda. To show his native independence of spirit he therefore refused to listen to advice and water his horses on the road, but on returning allowed them to drink all they wanted; as a consequence one horse died. We left Deming with two large American horses, but now found it impossible, even on that great hacienda, to obtain a suitable match, so we were obliged to start off with a comical, sturdy broncho for a mate, which not only gave a very lop-sided look to the conveyance, but an appearance of extreme cruelty toward the little animal. Whenever the big horse trotted the little fellow would take up a canter to keep alongside, and it was almost enough to make a person[71] seasick to watch the ill-mated pair get over the ground. We were soon back again to Corralitos, and inside the forbidding looking gates. Here we were very comfortably housed, with a bright fire burning in the bedroom fireplace to take the chill off the air, as the rooms in these thick adobe buildings are much like cellars in their temperature, whether it is warm or cold outside. We had not been in many hours before other strangers began to arrive: Englishmen from their ranches, miners from the silver mines, a surveying party, and a number of cattlemen. By nightfall the place was swarming with people, and the problem was where to stow away so many for the night. The long table in the old adobe dining room was three times full. There is no lack of fresh meat on such an hacienda,[72] all that is necessary being to send out the butcher, who kills whatever is wanted from the abundant supply on the range, for in that clear, rare atmosphere meat is preserved until used. There is another feature of large haciendas like this that may prove interesting. I refer to the store, which usually occupies one corner of the building. At this store is found every kind of merchandise that is wanted, and here is doled out to the Indian population in exchange for their work certain quantities of flour or sugar,—you can be sure the amount is always very small,—and in time the simple people draw much more than is due them for work, as they are always allowed credit. Then it is they become peons or slaves, for they rarely get out of debt, but increase it until they are virtually owned[73] by the lords of the soil, who can do as they please with the poor creatures, and work them whenever and wherever they see fit. These debts descend from father to son; in this manner they are continually increasing, and so the chains are riveted. I suppose the system has many advantages as well as disadvantages, but certainly we see the disadvantages to the poor and simple people, who, having their immediate wants supplied, do not care to look beyond. Among the more intelligent this condition is very galling, but as a rule they are shrewd enough to avoid it. Standing a short distance from the inclosing wall of the hacienda, and in the midst of the poor quarter, was a dilapidated Roman Catholic church. There was no resident priest, but one came twice a year from a settlement farther south.[74] At all hours of the day, however, women could be found kneeling in front of the primitive altar, a poor, degraded class, with not as much morality as the most savage tribes who have never heard of civilization. My trip of over two hundred miles down the eastern slope of the Sierra Madre Mountains, from the boundary between the two countries, coupled with the information I gained en route, showed me that I might do better by attempting to make my way through the great range from the westward; so it was decided to make the change of base from the State of Chihuahua to that of Sonora. While visiting at La Ascension on our return trip we saw about a dozen Mexicans extracting silver from ore by a method which is as old as that mentioned[75] in the Bible. The rich ore, showing probably two hundred and fifty dollars to the ton, had been taken out of the vein with crowbars and by rough blasting, and then brought to the town on the backs of burros. Here the huge rocks were first crushed with sledge hammers until they were about the size of one's fist and could be easily handled, then broken again with smaller hand hammers until almost as fine as coarse sand. This was reduced to a complete powder by being beaten in heavy leather bags. After these operations it was mixed with water and thrown into an arastra, a cross between a coffee mill and a quartz crusher; in other words, consisting of four stones tied to a revolving mill-bar and turned by the inevitable mule. This makes a paste rich in granulated silver, which is mixed with salt[76] and boiled in a little pot, as if they were making apple butter instead of working one of the richest veins of silver in a country celebrated for its valuable silver mines. The resulting mass is washed out in a pan, as a prospecting miner washes for signs of gold, with the exception that quicksilver is put in to form an amalgam with the now liberated metal. The latter is pressed out with the hand, and the little ball of amalgam, as bright as silver itself, has the mercury driven off by a furnace only big enough to fry the eggs for a party of two. The pure silver ball, glistening like hoar frost in the sun, is now beaten down to the size of a big marble to prevent its breaking to pieces. It is exasperating in the extreme to see such ignorant methods of man applied to the rich offerings of nature. [77] There was but very little out of the usual routine of travel for a day or two, until we came to the third crossing of the Casas Grandes River, at a point so near its entrance into Laguna Guzman that we felt sure we would have no trouble in getting over. For, as I have already explained, most of the rivers in this country are larger the nearer you approach their heads. There had been no rains to swell the streams, and our surprise can therefore be imagined when, upon reaching the river, we found it a raging torrent. A long experience had taught me that it does not pay to await the falling of a swollen river; so we set at work to get over the obstreperous stream. The loads were all piled on the seats, above the empty wagon beds, which, being thus weighted and top-heavy, acted[78] like so many boats when they dashed into the river. Our driver, a Mexican, had the worst of it in a low, light wagon, drawn by two small pinto bronchos. The flood swept him down stream under an overhanging clump of willows, despite a rope tied to the tongue of the wagon and another held firmly by a half dozen persons on the upstream side. But he was as cool at the head as at the feet, although he was knee deep in ice water at[79] the time as he stood up in the wagon bed. After waiting a moment to allow the horses to regain their bewildered senses, he swam them upstream to the crossing, and the men, with a whoop and a yell, dragged the whole affair on shore, looking like drowned rats tied to a cigar box. We were three hours and a quarter getting over that river, and felt as if we could have drowned the man who wrote that Northern Mexico is a vast, waterless tract of country. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG style="margin-top: 1em;" src="images/image8.jpg" width-obs="500" height-obs="225" alt="Crossing the Casas Grandes River." /></div> CROSSING THE CASAS GRANDES RIVER. <hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> [80] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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