The troops stationed at
the post endured much hardship and fought many bloody battles
before the Indians were conquered. Many soldiers were killed and
buried in a little graveyard near the fort. When the fort was
abandoned a few years ago, their bodies were disinterred and
removed to the National cemetery at Washington.
Railroad Pass is naturally a better wagon road than Apache Pass,
but is without water. It was named by Lieut. J. G. Parke in 1855
while engaged in surveying for the Pacific Railroad, because of
its easy grade and facility for railroad construction.
I timed my visit to correspond with the arrival at Bowie station
on the Southern Pacific Railroad, of a consignment of ranch goods
that had been shipped from St. Louis. I was met at the depot by
the ranch force, who immediately proceeded to initiate me as a
tenderfoot. I inquired of one of the cowboys how far it was to a
near-by mountain. He gave a quien sabe shrug of the shoulder and
answered me in Yankee fashion by asking how far I thought it was.
Estimating the distance as in a prairie country I replied, "Oh,
about a mile." He laughed and said that the mountain was fully
five miles distant by actual measurement. I had unwittingly
taken my first lesson in plainscraft and prudently refrained
thereafter from making another sure guess.
The deception was due to the rarefied atmosphere, which is
peculiar to the arid region. It not only deceives the eye as to
distance, but also as to motion. If the eye is steadily fixed
upon some distant inanimate object, it seems to move in the
tremulous light as if possessed of life, and it is not always
easy to be convinced to the contrary. However, by putting the
object under inspection in line with some further object, it can
readily be determined whether the object is animate or still by
its remaining on or moving off the line.
Another peculiarity of the country is that objects do not always
seem to stand square with the world. In approaching a mountain
and moving on an up grade the plane of incline is suddenly
reversed and gives the appearance and sensation of going
downhill. In some inexplicable manner sense and reason seem to
conflict and the discovery of the disturbed relation of things is
startling. You know very well that the mountain ahead is above
you, but it has the appearance of standing below you in a hollow;
and the water in the brook at your feet, which runs down the
mountain into the valley, seems to be running uphill. By turning
squarely about and looking backwards, the misplaced objects
become righted, and produces much the same sensation that a man
feels who is lost and suddenly finds himself again.
We immediately prepared to drive out to the ranch, which was ten
miles distant and reached by a road that skirted the Dos Cabezas
mountains. The new wagon was set up and put in running order and
lightly loaded with supplies. All of the preliminaries being
completed, the horses were harnessed and hooked to the wagon.
The driver mounted his seat, drew rein and cracked his whip, but
we didn't go. The horses were only accustomed to the saddle and
knew nothing about pulling in harness. Sam was a condemned
cavalry horse and Box was a native bronco, and being hitched to a
wagon was a new experience to both. The start was unpropitious,
but, acting on the old adage that "necessity is the mother of
invention," which truth is nowhere better exemplified than on the
frontier where conveniences are few and the most must be made of
everything, after some delay and considerable maneuvering we
finally got started.
The road for some distance out was level and smooth and our
progress satisfactory. As we drove leisurely along I improved
the opportunity to look about and see the sights. It was a
perfect day in April and there never was a brighter sky nor
balmier air than beamed and breathed upon us. The air was soft
and tremulous with a magical light that produced startling
phantasmagoric effects.
It was my first sight of a mirage and it naturally excited my
curiosity. It seemed as if a forest had suddenly sprung up
in the San Simon valley where just before had appeared only bare
ground. With every change in the angle of vision as we journeyed
on, there occurred a corresponding change in the scene before us
that produced a charming kaleidoscopic effect. The rough
mountain was transformed into a symmetrical city and the dry
valley into a lake of sparkling water, - all seeming to be the
work of magic in some fairyland of enchantment.
In a ledge of granite rock by the wayside were cut a number of
round holes which the Indians had made and used as mills for
grinding their corn and seeds into meal. Nearby also, were some
mescal pits used for baking the agave, a native plant that is in
great demand as food by the Indians. The spot was evidently an
old rendezvous where the marauding Apaches were accustomed to
meet in council to plan their bloody raids, and to feast on
mescal and pinole in honor of some successful foray or victory
over an enemy.
We next crossed several well-worn Indian trails which the Apaches
had made by many years of travel to and fro between their
rancherias in the Mogollon mountains and Mexico. The sight of
these trails brought us back to real life and a conscious sense
of danger, for were we not in an enemy's country and in the midst
of hostile Indians? Nearly every mile of road traveled had been
at some time in the past the scene of a bloody tragedy enacted by
a savage foe.
