the last of the plainsmen-第4节

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We　journeyed　onward；　and　passed　long　lines　of　petrified　trees；　some　a　hundred　feet　in　length；　lying　as　they　had　fallen；　thousands　of　years　before。　White　ants　crawled　among　the　ruins。　Slowly　climbing　the　sandy　trail；　we　circled　a　great　red　bluff　with　jagged　peaks；　that　had　seemed　an　interminable　obstacle。　A　scant　growth　of　cedar　and　sage　again　made　its　appearance。　Here　we　halted　to　pass　another　night。　Under　a　cedar　I　heard　the　plaintive；　piteous　bleat　of　an　animal。　I　searched；　and　presently　found　a　little　black　and　white　lamb；　scarcely　able　to　stand。　It　came　readily　to　me；　and　I　carried　it　to　the　wagon。

〃That's　a　Navajo　lamb；〃　said　Emmett。　〃It's　lost。　There　are　Navajo　Indians　close　by。〃

〃Away　in　the　desert　we　heard　its　cry；〃　quoted　one　of　the　Mormons。

Jones　and　I　climbed　the　red　mesa　near　camp　to　see　the　sunset。　All　the　western　world　was　ablaze　in　golden　glory。　Shafts　of　light　shot　toward　the　zenith；　and　bands　of　paler　gold；　tinging　to　rose；　circled　away　from　the　fiery；　sinking　globe。　Suddenly　the　sun　sank；　the　gold　changed　to　gray；　then　to　purple；　and　shadows　formed　in　the　deep　gorge　at　our　feet。　So　sudden　was　the　transformation　that　soon　it　was　night；　the　solemn；　impressive　night　of　the　desert。　A　stillness　that　seemed　too　sacred　to　break　clasped　the　place；　it　was　infinite；　it　held　the　bygone　ages；　and　eternity。

More　days；　and　miles；　miles；　miles！　The　last　day's　ride　to　the　Big　Colorado　was　unforgettable。　We　rode　toward　the　head　of　a　gigantic　red　cliff　pocket；　a　veritable　inferno；　immeasurably　hot；　glaring；　awful。　It　towered　higher　and　higher　above　us。　When　we　reached　a　point　of　this　red　barrier；　we　heard　the　dull　rumbling　roar　of　water；　and　we　came　out；　at　length；　on　a　winding　trail　cut　in　the　face　of　a　blue　overhanging　the　Colorado　River。　The　first　sight　of　most　famous　and　much…heralded　wonders　of　nature　is　often　disappointing；　but　never　can　this　be　said　of　the　blood…hued　Rio　Colorado。　If　it　had　beauty；　it　was　beauty　that　appalled。　So　riveted　was　my　gaze　that　I　could　hardly　turn　it　across　the　river；　where　Emmett　proudly　pointed　out　his　lonely　homean　oasis　set　down　amidst　beetling　red　cliffs。　How　grateful　to　the　eye　was　the　green　of　alfalfa　and　cottonwood！　Going　round　the　bluff　trail；　the　wheels　had　only　a　foot　of　room　to　spare；　and　the　sheer　descent　into　the　red；　turbid；　congested　river　was　terrifying。

I　saw　the　constricted　rapids；　where　the　Colorado　took　its　plunge　into　the　box…like　head　of　the　Grand　Canyon　of　Arizona；　and　the　deep；　reverberating　boom　of　the　river；　at　flood　height；　was　a　fearful　thing　to　hear。　I　could　not　repress　a　shudder　at　the　thought　of　crossing　above　that　rapid。

The　bronze　walls　widened　as　we　proceeded；　and　we　got　down　presently　to　a　level；　where　a　long　wire　cable　stretched　across　the　river。　Under　the　cable　ran　a　rope。　On　the　other　side　was　an　old　scow　moored　to　the　bank。

〃Are　we　going　across　in　that？〃　I　asked　Emmett；　pointing　to　the　boat。

〃We'll　all　be　on　the　other　side　before　dark；〃　he　replied　cheerily。

I　felt　that　I　would　rather　start　back　alone　over　the　desert　than　trust　myself　in　such　a　craft；　on　such　a　river。　And　it　was　all　because　I　had　had　experience　with　bad　rivers；　and　thought　I　was　a　judge　of　dangerous　currents。　The　Colorado　slid　with　a　menacing　roar　out　of　a　giant　split　in　the　red　wall；　and　whirled；　eddied；　bulged　on　toward　its　confinement　in　the　iron…ribbed　canyon　below。

In　answer　to　shots　fired；　Emmett's　man　appeared　on　the　other　side；　and　rode　down　to　the　ferry　landing。　Here　he　got　into　a　skiff；　and　rowed　laboriously　upstream　for　a　long　distance　before　he　started　across；　and　then　swung　into　the　current。　He　swept　down　rapidly；　and　twice　the　skiff　whirled；　and　completely　turned　round；　but　he　reached　our　bank　safely。　Taking　two　men　aboard　he　rowed　upstream　again；　close　to　the　shore；　and　returned　to　the　opposite　side　in　much　the　same　manner　in　which　he　had　come　over。

The　three　men　pushed　out　the　scow；　and　grasping　the　rope　overhead；　began　to　pull。　The　big　craft　ran　easily。　When　the　current　struck　it；　the　wire　cable　sagged；　the　water　boiled　and　surged　under　it；　raising　one　end；　and　then　the　other。　Nevertheless；　five　minutes　were　all　that　were　required　to　pull　the　boat　over。

It　was　a　rude；　oblong　affair；　made　of　heavy　planks　loosely　put　together；　and　it　leaked。　When　Jones　suggested　that　we　get　the　agony　over　as　quickly　as　possible；　I　was　with　him；　and　we　embarked　together。　Jones　said　he　did　not　like　the　looks　of　the　tackle；　and　when　I　thought　of　his　by　no　means　small　mechanical　skill；　I　had　not　added　a　cheerful　idea　to　my　consciousness。　The　horses　of　the　first　team　had　to　be　dragged　upon　the　scow；　and　once　on；　they　reared　and　plunged。

When　we　started；　four　men　pulled　the　rope；　and　Emmett　sat　in　the　stern；　with　the　tackle　guys　in　hand。　As　the　current　hit　us；　he　let　out　the　guys；　which　maneuver　caused　the　boat　to　swing　stern　downstream。　When　it　pointed　obliquely；　he　made　fast　the　guys　again。　I　saw　that　this　served　two　purposes：　the　current　struck；　slid　alongside；　and　over　the　stern；　which　mitigated　the　danger；　and　at　the　same　time　helped　the　boat　across。

To　look　at　the　river　was　to　court　terror；　but　I　had　to　look。　It　was　an　infernal　thing。　It　roared　in　hollow；　sullen　voice；　as　a　monster　growling。　It　had　voice；　this　river；　and　one　strangely　changeful。　It　moaned　as　if　in　painit　whined；　it　cried。　Then　at　times　it　would　seem　strangely　silent。　The　current　as　complex　and　mutable　as　human　life。　It　boiled；　beat　and　bulged。　The　bulge　itself　was　an　incompressible　thing；　like　a　roaring　lift　of　the　waters　from　submarine　explosion。　Then　it　would　smooth　out；　and　run　like　oil。　It　shifted　from　one　channel　to　another；　rushed　to　the　center　of　the　river；　then　swung　close　to　one　shore　or　the　other。　Again　it　swelled　near　the　boat；　in　great；　boiling；　hissing　eddies。

〃Look！　See　where　it　breaks　through　the　mountain！〃　yelled　Jones　in　my　ear。

I　looked　upstream　to　see　the　stupendous　granite　walls　separated　in　a　gigantic　split　that　must　have　been　made　by　a　terrible　seismic　disturbance；　and　from　this　gap　poured　the　dark；　turgid；　mystic　flood。

I　was　in　a　cold　sweat　when　we　touched　shore；　and　I　jumped　long　before　the　boat　was　properly　moored。

Emmett　was　wet　to　the　waist　where　the　water　had　surged　over　him。　As　he　sat　rearranging　some　tackle　I　remarked　to　him　that　of　course　he　must　be　a　splendid　swimmer；　or　he　would　not　take　such　risks。

〃No；　I　can't　swim　a　stroke；〃　he　replied；　〃and　it　wouldn't　be　any　use　if　I　could。　Once　in　there　a　man's　a　goner。〃

〃You've　had　bad　accidents　here？〃　I　questioned。

〃No；　not　bad。　We　only　drowned　two　men　last　year。　You　see；　we　had　to　tow　the　boat　up　the　river；　and　row　across；　as　then　we　hadn't　the　wire。　Just　above；　on　this　side；　the　boat　hit　a　stone；　and　the　current　washed　over　her；　taking　off　the　team　and　two　men。〃

〃Didn't　you　attempt　to　rescue　them？〃　I　asked；　after　waiting　a　moment。

〃No　use。　They　never　came　up。〃

〃Isn't　the　river　high　now？〃　I　continued；　shuddering　as　I　glanced　out　at　the　whirling　logs　and　drifts。

〃High；　and　coming　up。　If　I　don't　get　the　other　teams　over　to…day　I'll　wait　until　she　goes　down。　At　this　season　she　rises　and　lowers　every　day　or　so；　until　June　then　comes　the　big　flood；　and　we　don't　cross　for　months。〃

I　sat　for　three　hours　watching　Emmett　bring　over　the　rest　of　his　party；　which　he　did　without　accident；　but　at　the　expense　of　great　effort。　And　all　the　time　in　my　ears　dinned　the　roar；　the　boom；　the　rumble　of　this　singularly　rapacious　and　purposeful　rivera　river　of　silt；　a　red　river　of　dark；　sinister　meaning；　a　river　with　terrible　work　to　perform；　a　river　which　never　gave　up　its　dead。



CHAPTER　2。　THE　RANGE

After　a　much…needed　rest　at　Emmett's；　we　bade　good…by　to　him　and　his　hospitable　family；　and　under　the　guidance　of　his　man　once　more　took　to　the　wind…swept　trail。　We　pursued　a　southwesterly　course　now；　following　the　lead　of　the　craggy　red　wall　that　stretched　on　and　on　for　hundreds　of　miles　into　Utah。　The　desert；　smoky　and　hot；　fell　away　to　the　left；　and　in　the　foreground　a　dark；　irregular　line　marked　the　Grand　Canyon　cutting　through　the　plateau。

The　wind　whipped　in　from　the　vast；　open　expanse；　and　meeting　an　obstacle　in　the　red　wall；　turned　north　and　raced　past　us。　Jones's　hat　blew　off；　stood　on　its　rim；　and　rolled。　It　kept　on　rolling；　thirty　miles　an　hour；　more　or　less；　so　fast；　at　least；　that　we　were　a　long　time　catching　up　to　it　with　a　team　of　horses。　Possibly　we　never　would　have　caught　it　had　not　a　stone　checked　its　flight。　Further　manifestation　of　the　power　of　the　desert　wind　surrounded　us　on　all　sides。　It　had　hollowed　out　huge　stones　from　the　cliffs；　and　tumbled　them　to　the　plain　below；　and　then；　sweeping　sand　and　gravel　low　across　the　desert　floor；　had　cut　them　deeply；　until　they　rested　on　slender　pedestals；　thus　sculptoring　grotesque　and　striking　monuments　to　the　marvelous　persistence　of　this　element　of　nature。

Late　that　afternoon；　as　we　reached　the　height　of　the　plateau；　Jones　woke　up　and　shouted：　〃Ha！　there's　Buckskin！〃

Far　southward　lay　a　long；　black　mountain；　covered　with　patches　of　shining　snow。　I　could　follow　the　zigzag　line　of　the　Grand　Canyon　splitting　the　desert　plateau；　and　saw　it　disappear　in　the　haze　round　the　end　of　the　mountain。　From　this　I　got　my　first　clear　impression　o