Tales of Aztlan; The Romance of a Hero of Our Late Spanish-American War, Incidents of Interest from the Life of a Western Pioneer and Other TalesHartmann, George
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Tales of Aztlan; The Romance of a Hero of Our Late Spanish-American War, Incidents of Interest from the Life of a Western Pioneer and Other Tales
Hartmann, George
Short stories, American; Spanish-American War, 1898 -- Fiction; Western stories
In the west, far, far away, clustered a range of mountains, spread out
like an enormous horse-shoe and in its center arose the form of a
solitary hill. In the heavens from the east drifted a white, ragged
cloud. The solitary hill seemed to rise high and higher and all the
mountains bowed before it. The spectral cloud resolved itself into a
terrible vision which enveloped the central hill. Great Heavens! Again
I saw the phantom dog and fancied that I heard shrill screams of
"Perro, perro, gringo perro!" A crackling noise, a coming shadow, and
forward I fell on my face, ever on the alert, ever ready. An unearthly
yell and a great body flew over, fierce claws grazing me. Two balls of
fire shone in the bush, but my rifle cracked and a great lion fell in
its tracks. I expected my companions to meet me soon, coming my way.
Instead, I found them, after my all-night's walk, snugly camped where I
had left them. Don Juan explained that with God's favor they had found
the water soon after I had left them. He said that they had called loud
and long after me, but I did not seem to hear.
This day we descended the mesa and entered the valley of the Verde
River, one of Arizona's permanent water courses. This valley is
cultivated for at least forty miles from its source to where it enters
precipitous mountains. We forded the crystal waters of the river at
Camp Verde, an army post, and crossed another range of mountains and
several valleys into a comparatively open country, and on the night of
a day late in November we camped on Lynx Creek, and were then within a
half day's travel of our destination.
CHAPTER X.
AT THE SHRINE OF A "SPHINX OF AZTLAN"
Not a drop of rain had fallen on us since we left the Rio Grande, the
days were as summer in a northern climate, but the nights were quite
chill, the effect of an altitude of five thousand feet above sea level.
The country had lost its appearance of loneliness, for we passed
several parties of miners and heard the heavy booming of giant powder
at intervals, and from various directions all through the day.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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