CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
THE PHANTOM CITY.
On the morning of the fourth day our spies came in, and reported thatthe Navajoes had taken the southern trail.
They had returned to the spring on the second day after our leaving it,and thence had followed the guiding of the arrows. It was Dacoma'sband, in all about three hundred warriors.
Nothing remained for us now but to pack up as quickly as possible, andpursue our march to the north.
In an hour we were in our saddles, and following the rocky banks of theSan Pedro.
A long day's journey brought us to the desolate valley of the Gila, uponwhose waters we encamped for the night. We slept near the celebratedruins, the second resting-place of the migrating Aztecs.
With the exception of the botanist, the Coco chief, myself, and perhapsSeguin, no one in the band seemed to trouble himself about theseinteresting antiquities. The sign of grizzly bears, that was discoveredupon the mud bottom, gave the hunters far more concern than the brokenpottery and its painted hieroglyphics. Two of these animals werediscovered near the camp, and a fierce battle ensued, in which one ofthe Mexicans nearly lost his life, escaping only after most of the skinhad been clawed from his head and neck. The bears themselves werekilled, and made part of our suppers.
Our next day's march lay up the Gila, to the mouth of the San Carlosriver, where we again halted for the night. The San Carlos runs in fromthe north; and Seguin had resolved to travel up this stream for ahundred miles or so, and afterwards strike eastward to the country ofthe Navajoes.
When this determination was made known, a spirit of discontent showeditself among the men, and mutinous whisperings were heard on all sides.
Shortly after we halted, however, several of them strayed up the banksof the stream, and gathered some grains of gold out of its bed.Indications of the precious metal, the quixa, known among the Mexicansas the "gold mother," were also found among the rocks. There wereminers in the band, who knew it well, and this served to satisfy them.There was no more talk of keeping on to the Prieto. Perhaps the SanCarlos might prove equally rich. Rumour had also given it the title ofa "golden river"; at all events, the expedition must cross the headwaters of the Prieto in its journey eastward; and this prospect had theeffect of quieting the mutineers, at least for the time.
There was another influence: the character of Seguin. There was nosingle individual in the band who cared to cross him on slight grounds.They knew him too well for that; and though few of these men set highvalue on their lives, when they believe themselves, according to"mountain law," in the right, yet they knew that to delay the expeditionfor the purpose of gathering gold was neither according to their compactwith him nor agreeable to his wishes. Not a few of the band, moreover,were actuated by motives similar to those felt by Seguin himself, andthese were equally desirous of pushing on to the Navajo towns.
Still another consideration had its influence upon the majority. Theparty of Dacoma would be on our track as soon as they had returned fromthe Apache trail. We had, therefore, no time to waste in gold-hunting,and the simplest of the scalp-hunters knew this.
By daybreak we were again on the march, and riding up the banks of theSan Carlos.
We had now entered the great desert which stretches northward from theGila away to the head waters of the Colorado. We entered it without aguide, for not one of the band had ever traversed these unknown regions.Even Rube knew nothing about this part of the country. We were withoutcompass, too, but this we heeded not. There were few in the band whocould not point to the north or the south within the variation of adegree: few of them but could, night or day, tell by the heavens withinten minutes of the true time. Give them but a clear sky, with the signsof the trees and rocks, and they needed neither compass nor chronometer.A life spent beneath the blue heavens of the prairie uplands and themountain parks, where a roof rarely obstructed their view of the azurevaults, had made astronomers of these reckless rovers.
Of such accomplishments was their education, drawn from many a perilousexperience. To me their knowledge of such things seemed instinct.
But we had a guide as to our direction, unerring as the magnetic needle:we were traversing the region of the "polar plant," the planes of whoseleaves, at almost every step, pointed out our meridian. It grew uponour track, and was crushed under the hoofs of our horses as we rodeonward.
We travelled northward through a country of strange-looking mountains,whose tops shot heavenward in fantastic forms and groupings. At onetime we saw semi-globular shapes like the domes of churches; at another,Gothic turrets rose before us; and the next opening brought in viewsharp needle-pointed peaks, shooting upward into the blue sky. We sawcolumnar forms supporting others that lay horizontally: vast boulders oftrap-rock, suggesting the idea of some antediluvian ruin, some temple ofgigantic Druids!
Along with singularity of formation was the most brilliant colouring.There were stratified rocks, red, white, green, and yellow, as vivid intheir hues as if freshly touched from the palette of the painter.
No smoke had tarnished them since they had been flung up from theirsubterranean beds. No cloud draped their naked outlines. It was not aland of clouds, for as we journeyed amongst them we saw not a speck inthe heavens; nothing above us but the blue and limitless ether.
I remembered the remarks of Seguin.
There was something inspiriting in the sight of these bright mountains;something life-like, that prevented us from feeling the extreme and realdesolation by which we were surrounded. At times we could not helpfancying that we were in a thickly-populated country--a country of vastwealth and civilisation, as appeared from its architectural grandeur.Yet in reality we were journeying through the wildest of earth'sdominions, where no human foot ever trod excepting such as wear themoccasin; the region of the "wolf" Apache and the wretched Yamparico.
We travelled up the banks of the river, and here and there, at ourhalting-places, searching for the shining metal. It could be found onlyin small quantities, and the hunters began to talk loudly of the Prieto.There, according to them, the yellow gold lay in lumps.
On the fourth day after leaving the Gila, we came to a place where theSan Carlos canoned through a high sierra. Here we halted for the night.When morning came, we found we could follow the river no fartherwithout climbing over the mountain; and Seguin announced his intentionof leaving it and striking eastward. The hunters responded to thisdeclaration with a joyous hurrah. The golden vision was again beforethem.
We remained at the San Carlos until after the noon heat, recruiting ourhorses by the stream; then mounting, we rode forward into the plain. Itwas our intention to travel all night, or until we reached water, as weknew that without this, halting would be useless.
We had not ridden far until we saw that a fearful Jornada was beforeus--one of those dreaded stretches without grass, wood, or water. Aheadof us we could see a low range of mountains, trending from north tosouth, and beyond these, another range still higher than the first. Onthe farther range there were snowy summits. We saw that they weredistinct chains, and that the more distant was of great elevation. Thiswe knew from the appearance upon its peaks of the eternal snow.
We knew, moreover, that at the foot of the snowy range we should findwater, perhaps the river we were in search of; but the distance wasimmense. If we did not find it at the nearer sierra, we should have anadventure: the danger of perishing from thirst. Such was the prospect.
We rode on over the arid soil; over plains of lava and cut-rock thatwounded the hoofs of our horses, laming many. There was no vegetationaround us except the sickly green of the artemisia, or the fetid foliageof the creosote plant. There was no living thing to be seen save thebrown and hideous lizard, the rattlesnake, and the desert crickets thatcrawled in myriads along the parched ground, and were crunched under thehoofs of our animals. "Water!" was the word that began to be uttered inseveral languages.
"Water!" cried the choking trapper.
br /> "L'eau!" ejaculated the Canadian.
"Agua! agua!" shouted the Mexican.
We were not twenty miles from the San Carlos before our gourd canteenswere as dry as a shingle. The dust of the plains and the hot atmospherehad created unusual thirst, and we had soon emptied them.
We had started late in the afternoon. At sundown the mountains ahead ofus did not seem a single mile nearer. We travelled all night, and whenthe sun rose again we were still a good distance from them. Such is theillusory character of this elevated and crystal atmosphere.
The men mumbled as they talked. They held in their mouths leadenbullets and pebbles of obsidian, which they chewed with a desperatefierceness.
It was some time after sunrise when we arrived at the mountain foot. Toour consternation no water could be found!
The mountains were a range of dry rocks, so parched-like and barren thateven the creosote bush could not find nourishment along their sides.They were as naked of vegetation as when the volcanic fires first heavedthem into the light.
Parties scattered in all directions, and went up the ravines; but aftera long while spent in fruitless wandering, we abandoned the search indespair.
There was a pass that appeared to lead through the range; and enteringthis, we rode forward in silence and with gloomy thoughts.
We soon debouched on the other side, when a scene of singular characterburst upon our view.
A plain lay before us, hemmed in on all sides by high mountains. On itsfarther edge was the snowy ridge, with stupendous cliffs risingvertically from the plain, towering thousands of feet in height. Darkrocks seemed piled upon each other, higher and higher, until they becameburied under robes of the spotless snow.
But that which appeared most singular was the surface of the plain. Itwas covered with a mantle of virgin whiteness, apparently of snow; andyet the more elevated spot from which we viewed it was naked, with a hotsun shining upon it. What we saw in the valley, then, could not besnow.
As I gazed over the monotonous surface of this plain, and then lookedupon the chaotic mountains that walled it in, my mind became impressedwith ideas of coldness and desolation. It seemed as if everything wasdead around us, and Nature was laid out in her winding-sheet. I sawthat my companions experienced similar feelings, but no one spoke; andwe commenced riding down the pass that led into this singular valley.
As far as we could see, there was no prospect of water on the plain; butwhat else could we do than cross it? On its most distant border, alongthe base of the snowy mountains, we thought we could distinguish a blackline, like that of timber, and for this point we directed our march.
On reaching the plain, what had appeared like snow proved to be soda. Adeep incrustation of this lay upon the ground, enough to satisfy thewants of the whole human race; yet there it lay, and no hand had everstooped to gather it.
Three or four rocky buttes were in our way, near the debouchure of thepass. As we rounded them, getting farther out into the plain, a widegap began to unfold itself, opening through the mountains beyond.Through this gap the sun's rays were streaming in, throwing a band ofyellow light across one end of the valley. In this the crystals of thesoda, stirred up by the breeze, appeared floating in myriads.
As we descended, I observed that objects began to assume a verydifferent aspect from what they had exhibited from above. As if byenchantment, the cold snowy surface all at once disappeared. Greenfields lay before us, and tall trees sprang up, covered with a thick andverdant frondage!
"Cotton-woods!" cried a hunter, as his eye rested on these still distantgroves.
"Tall saplins at that--wagh!" ejaculated another.
"Water thar, fellers, I reckin!" remarked a third.
"Yes, siree! Yer don't see such sprouts as them growin' out o' a dryparaira. Look! Hollo!"
"By gollies, yonder's a house!"
"A house? One, two, three! A house? Thar's a whole town, if thar's asingle shanty. Gee! Jim, look yonder! Wagh!"
I was riding in front with Seguin, the rest of the band strung outbehind us. I had been for some time gazing upon the ground, in a sortof abstraction, looking: at the snow-white efflorescence, and listeningto the crunching of my horse's hoofs through its icy incrustation.These exclamatory phrases caused me to raise my eyes. The sight thatmet them was one that made me rein up with a sudden jerk. Seguin haddone the same, and I saw that the whole band had halted with a similarimpulse.
We had just cleared one of the buttes that had hitherto obstructed ourview of the great gap. This was now directly in front of us; and alongits base, on the southern side, rose the walls and battlements of acity--a vast city, judging from its distance and the colossal appearanceof its architecture. We could trace the columns of temples, and doors,and gates, and windows, and balconies, and parapets, and spires. Therewere many towers rising high over the roofs, and in the middle was atemple-like structure, with its massive dome towering far above all theothers.
I looked upon this sudden apparition with a feeling of incredulity. Itwas a dream, an imagination, a mirage. Ha! it was the mirage!
No! The mirage could not effect such a complete picture. There werethe roofs, and chimneys, and walls, and windows. There were theparapets of fortified houses, with their regular notches and embrasures.It was a reality. It was a city!
Was it the Cibolo of the Spanish padre? Was it that city of goldengates and burnished towers? After all, was the story of the wanderingpriest true? Who had proved it a fable? Who had ever penetrated thisregion, the very country in which the ecclesiastic represented thegolden city of Cibolo to exist?
I saw that Seguin was puzzled, dismayed, as well as myself. He knewnothing of this land. He had never witnessed a mirage like that.
For some time we sat in our saddles, influenced by strange emotions.Shall we go forward? Yes! We must reach water. We are dying ofthirst; and, impelled by this, we spur onward.
We had ridden only a few paces farther when the hunters uttered a suddenand simultaneous cry. A new object--an object of terror--was before us.Along the mountain foot appeared a string of dark forms. They weremounted men!
We dragged our horses to their haunches, our whole line halting as oneman.
"Injuns!" was the exclamation of several.
"Indians they must be," muttered Seguin. "There are no others here.Indians! No! There never were such as them. See! they are not men!Look! their huge horses, their long guns; they are giants! By Heaven!"continued he, after a moment's pause, "they are bodiless! They arephantoms!"
There were exclamations of terror from the hunters behind.
Were these the inhabitants of the city? There was a striking proportionin the colossal size of the horses and the horsemen.
For a moment I was awe-struck like the rest. Only a moment. A suddenmemory flashed upon me. I thought of the Hartz Mountains and theirdemons. I knew that the phenomenon before us could be no other; anoptical delusion; a creation of the mirage.
I raised my hand above my head. The foremost of the giants imitated themotion.
I put spurs to my horse and galloped forward. So did he, as if to meetme. After a few springs I had passed the refracting angle, and, like athought, the shadowy giants vanished into the air.
The men had ridden forward after me, and having also passed the angle ofrefraction saw no more of the phantom host.
The city, too, had disappeared; but we could trace the outlines of manya singular formation in the trap-rock strata that traversed the edge ofthe valley.
The tall groves were no longer to be seen; but a low belt of greenwillows, real willows, could be distinguished along the foot of themountain within the gap. Under their foliage there was something thatsparkled in the sun like sheets of silver. It was water! It was abranch of the Prieto.
Our horses neighed at the sight; and, shortly after, we had alightedupon its banks, and were kneeling before the sweet spirit of the stream.