“She’ll get used to it by and by,” he said. “Horizontal fever,--that’s what the old lady’s got. Ought to heard her squeal on them turns.” They pressed us to stay over night. “You ain’t heard how I stopped the war,” said Kelly. But we regretfully said we must push on. So, loaded with specimens of ore and good wishes, we sped away. CHAPTER XI FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH It was one of those days when everything goes wrong, and it fell on Friday the thirteenth. Three days earlier, on reaching Globe, we learned we could not take the direct road to Santa Fe without chartering a steamer to ferry us across the untamed Gila. Most roads in Arizona are amphibious; to be ready for all emergencies, a motor traveling in that region of surprises should be equipped with skates, snow-shoes and web-feet. As our chosen road lay under some eight feet of river, we were obliged to make a slight detour of five hundred miles, or half the distance from Boston to Chicago. So we retraced the dizzy Winkleman trail, far less dizzy since we had become indifferent to tight-rope performances, passed through Tucson without attracting attention from the Sheriff of Pima County, and were rewarded for our digression by a sunset drive over the famous Tucson-Bisbee route, where a perfect road, built by convict labor, combined with perfect scenery to make our crossing of the Continental Divide for the dozenth time an event. There are about as many Continental Divides in the West as beds in which Washington slept in the East. I first crossed the Divide somewhere up in Montana, and thinking it the only one of its kind, I was properly thrilled. But later I met another in Wyoming, and in the Southwest they seemed to crop up everywhere. We were soon glad chance had sent us over the route we had discarded when we first entered Arizona. It was a mellow, gracious loveliness we passed, looking down from the top of the world on fields of silvery pampas, on stretches of velvet-brown grazing country, misted over with moon-white and sun-yellow poppies, and patches of wild heliotrope whose intoxicating scent tempted us to frequent stops. Then on again to overlook a magnificence of blue and ochre canyons, down which we swooped and circled into Bisbee.