The So-Called
Mountain Is Really Only A Foothill To A Large Mountain, But Is Most
Interesting From The Fact That It Is Covered With Pieces Of Obsidian,
Mostly Smoke-Color, And That Long Ago Indians Came There For
Arrowheads.
A very narrow road has been cut out of the rocks at the base of the
mountain, and about four feet above a small stream.
It has two very
sharp turns, and all around, as far as we could see, it would be
exceedingly dangerous, if not impossible, for large wagons to pass.
Miss Hayes and I went on up, gathering and rejecting pieces of
obsidian that had probably been gathered and rejected by hundreds of
tourists before us, and we were laughing and having a beautiful time
when, for some reason, I looked back, and down on the point where the
road almost doubles on itself I saw an old wagon with two horses, and
standing by the wagon were two men. They were looking at us, and very
soon one beckoned. I looked all around, thinking that some of their
friends must certainly be near us, but no one was in sight. By that
time one man was waving his hat to us, and then they actually called,
"Come on down here - come down, it is all right!"
Miss Hayes is quite deaf, and I was obliged to go around rocks before
I could get near enough to tell her of the wagon below, and the men
not hear me.
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