BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL

On the trail from Williams to the Grand CaÑon, the scouts found plenty to interest and with which to amuse themselves. The interest was to be had by gazing at the grandeur of the scenery, ever changing from one aspect to another, as the train passed the San Franciscan Mountains and climbed the grade which rose steadily. The amusement was furnished by tourists who seemed possessed in telling others all about the “dos” and “don’ts” one must obey at the Grand CaÑon.

Finally, one tourist, his patience quite gone, asked a woman—a pinched-faced, narrow-eyed, thin-lipped woman—how many times she had been through the CaÑon. “Perhaps you live there permanently,” said he in conclusion.

“Me! Why, no. This is my first visit there. What made you ask?”

“Because you seem to know more about the whole length and breadth of Grand CaÑon than all the books ever written on the subject,” retorted the man, with finality.

Thereafter there was comparative silence in the Pullman, for which the scouts were duly grateful to the sarcastic man.

“Gilly, are we going to stop at the El Tovar Hotel that woman was telling about?” asked Betty.

“No, Betsy, I thought you scouts would much rather camp, and go on from site to site as the spirit moves us, eh?”

A chorus of “Oh, yes, Gilly!” assured the Boss of the party that his idea was well favored. Then Mr. Vernon said: “How about outfits now that Tally sold ours in Williams?”

“We’ll join a ‘John Bass Camp’; there being so many in our group we can manage to secure a guide and the outfits without having strangers thrust in upon our party. In this way we secure the horses, outfits, and everything, much cheaper than we could provide them for ourselves,” explained Mr. Gilroy.

“Oh, I’m just crazy to get there!” cried Judith, who really acted half-wild over everything in the west.

“What a pity it is our Judy could not have been in the Rockies with us last summer,” said the Captain.

“I’m glad she wasn’t, Verny. I never should have been the chief actor in all the thrills Joan and I reeled off for you,” said Julie.

“Maybe it would have been the three ‘J’s’ instead of two jays,” laughed Joan.

“Girls! some one said we are here!” cried Hester, pressing her face against the window-screen in order to look for the town of Grand CaÑon. She saw a few scattered dwellings and a railroad station.

Mr. Gilroy had no idea of allowing the scouts to see the CaÑon at once. It was late afternoon when they left the train, and he led them directly to the hotel where they could wash and brush up and then have afternoon tea. He planned to show them their first view of the wonderful chasm with the hues of sunset full upon its walls, and his plan succeeded even better than he could have hoped for.

The eager and impatient scouts ran out ahead of Mr. Gilroy the sooner to view the Wonder they had come so far to see. They reached the rail and looked. The earth lay open before their eyes!

Not a word was uttered. Girlish hands clutched at the rail, and breaths came in short gasps. The sun was sending slanting beams across the gigantic gap before them, and dark purple mist was already veiling the depths of the caÑon.

Finally Betty sobbed aloud. The sound seemed to unlock the pent-up emotion of the other scouts. Every one trembled with the wild thrill of the scene, and two of the girls laughed hysterically.

Having taken their fill of this their first view of the CaÑon, the scouts followed Mr. Gilroy to a point which jutted out beyond the rest of the cliff.

“It looks seared and scarred like one of those old shamans back on the Desert,” commented Joan, gazing down at the ruin-like mass of rock which apparently held up the promontory upon which they were standing.

“Look, girls! That is what I want you to see,” called Mr. Gilroy, as they all reached the spot out on the projection of earth. He pointed in the direction he wished the scouts to gaze.

A fiery ball was just about to rest itself upon a far-off peak, but in doing so it shed a glory of light over all the crags and chasms, the pinnacles and plateaus, the mesas and monuments of this Wonderland. Quite suddenly, this red sphere seemed to roll behind the peak and as suddenly the glory faded.

Now began the marvelous transformation scene. What had been rocky walls crimson as blood became purple, then lilac, then scarcely-tinted lavender ghosts of cliffs. Then the sharp points of all the rocks and monuments in sight became veiled as with a pale gossamer web so frail that a breath might waft it away. Finally the night-shadows crept up from the CaÑon to meet the purple curtain from the heavens which now fell slowly but surely as if drawn by an invisible hand from behind the scenes.

“Oh!” sighed Julie, as the last flicker of the sunset died away from the farthest battlement.

“Verny, my knees shake so from all this greatness that I don’t see how I shall be able to walk back to the hotel,” sighed Amy.

“Then you’ll be glad to hear that you won’t have to walk back, eh, Amy?” asked Mr. Vernon, catching a glimpse of Tally and a strange guide with a group of saddle horses waiting at a distance near the bridle path.

“Are you going to make a chair for me of your crossed hands, you and Gilly?” laughed Amy, following the others as they walked away from the crag.

“Better than that,” returned Mr. Gilroy; “we all shall ride to camp. I had Tally go and arrange with the Bass manager for camping accommodations during our stay in the Grand CaÑon.”

It was with relieved minds then, that the scouts climbed into comfortable saddles and started to ride to the most up-to-date camp they had ever seen. The question of suitable apparel for the dinner and evening in such a luxurious hotel as El Tovar had been the only fly in the ointment while gazing on the CaÑon at sunset. Now Gilly had helped them out of that difficulty by his quick perceptions and realization of the fitness of things.

The camp-site for that night had been chosen with a view to giving the scouts the first glimpse of sunrise. Bearing that in mind, Mr. Gilroy said: “Every one has to be up and ready to come with me before sun-up in the morning. Therefore, we’d better go to bed early.”

“That’s no punishment for me,” laughed Joan, and the other girls seconded her declaration.

“We will add,” supplemented Julie, “We’ll go to bed now, provided you’ll send our dinners to us.”

“Not much! One reason I decided to bring you all to camp was to save myself the expense of tipping for such a crowd. Now you ask me to serve dinner in your private rooms? That adds extra cost to the charges for dinner, and I cannot afford it.”

“Oh, does it?” said Betty, her eyes opening wide in surprise.

“Yes, of course, Simple!” laughed her twin sister, winking at the other girls.

In the high altitudes of the west with its rarified air, one sleeps less and feels more rested than near the sea-levels where the humidity makes one heavy-lidded. Therefore the scouts were up at dawn and were waiting on one of the projecting cliffs to get the first glimpse of the sun. They saw the CaÑon in the early morning as an oriental city, mist-veiled and shadowy, suggesting haunting mysteries.

Then came up from behind the rim of turrets and towers, a golden light that bathed the CaÑon in a sea of glory. Soon this light grew more intense, until every point of rock was transformed into a gleaming spear-point. At last came the sun-burst of gold which instantly reflected in the CaÑon in opalescent tints too beautiful to name.

Having remained spell-bound by the marvel of watching the rising sun touch and transform everything, from the greatest to the least, the scouts finally sighed and Mr. Gilroy made a move to get up.

“Sorry to shatter this dream, girls, but I’m sure I smelled frying bacon from our camp yonder,” said he.

“Oh, Gilly!” exclaimed a chorus of voices in shocked disapproval.

“How can you be so material?” was Joan’s horrified query.

“I can understand how it is,” giggled Anne. “Of course, I am just as surprised and uplifted over this scene as any one ought to be, but bacon and eggs also have an appeal.”

“Anne,” said Mr. Gilroy, “these dabblers in rhapsodies will eat their full share of the ‘common material food’ the moment they get within reach of that frying-pan. Come on, let’s get there first, Anne.”

During breakfast Mr. Gilroy said: “As soon as we finish here, the guide proposes taking us down Bright Angel trail to the bottom of the CaÑon. The heavier you are the firmer you will feel while on the burros’ backs, hence I advise you to eat plenty.”

“Gilly, dear, I think I will remain in camp. I am not going down,” stammered Betty.

“Not going down! Well, I guess you are!” exclaimed Julie, amazed.

“Julie, I’m afraid,” whimpered the girl.

“Nonsense! What’s there to be afraid of?” demanded her sister.

The adults in the group reasoned with Betty, but Amy and Hester now said: “We’ll stay here with Betty and keep her company.”

Betty smiled feebly in gratitude to these wonderful friends who were willing to forego the thrill of such a trip in order to keep her from being lonely.

“No, you don’t!” retorted Joan. “If you two have the shakes, the only way to cure you is to drag you down at the heels of the donkeys.”

“If you’re afraid to go down why not up and confess, just as Betty did? Don’t go and get out of it by saying you’ll sacrifice yourself by remaining here to keep her company,” was Julie’s sarcastic suggestion.

Mrs. Vernon cut this unpleasant little scene short by saying: “We’re all ready to start when you are, Gilly. Betty is going too, as she’ll see once she is on the way that there is nothing to dread.”

Two bright crimson spots began to glow in Betty’s cheeks as she followed after her friends, but she trembled every time she glanced in the direction of the CaÑon.

There were twenty-three tourists, besides the scout-party, to ride down Bright Angel trail that morning. Some ladies who were not provided with riding habits had rented them from the outfit department of the hotel. Of course, Julie had to say “23 is skiddoo!” Every one had to ride cross-saddle, but two of the ladies in the cavalcade made a great fuss over such an immodest sight! The scouts stared in amazement.

Judith whispered: “They ought to remain home on the farm and knit antimacassors for the chairs.”

Finally they started off, one guide leading, another bringing up the rear. Tally rode directly in front of Amy, then after Amy came Betty. Back of Betty rode the Bass Guide, and behind him rode Hester. This arrangement would place each one of the two guides next to each of the three timid girls.

The trail, cut and made by hands with infinite labor and patience, seemed all too narrow for the feet of man. Yet the little burros go up and down it with perfect security.

“How can they do it, Gilly?” asked Joan, as they started down.

“Because their tiny hoofs take up no room, whatever, as they plant them down one directly in front of the other. Another thing, they are trained for this trail, and instinct tells them at what precise place to go slow, or at what time to hasten. Just trust them and look up. Don’t look down into the chasm, but up and over at the marvels of this place.”

To Amy, there were no more marvels in this CaÑon—it was all purgatory from fear. To Hester it looked like the side of the Woolworth Tower. To Betty it was just nothing at all, but space, down, down into the bowels of the earth.

But the donkeys had started down and, perforce, carried the riders with them. Here and there the CaÑon guides called the attention of their charges to various attractions.

“Gilly, why do all these horrid little burros insist upon walking on the outer rim of this razor-edge!” called Joan, who had vainly endeavored to guide her mount nearer the perpendicular wall on the inside of the trail.

Mr. Gilroy laughed. “They’d much rather you would scrape your thigh than theirs.”

At this moment a shrill cry came from one of the women who had objected to the divided skirts, “I got to go back! I just got to—right off!”

“You can’t!” shouted a guide. “You’ll be off, all right, if you don’t keep quiet and sit tight—Off into space. But you can’t go back now.”

“You’d better turn around and help me get back!” shrilled she. “I’ll sue you if you don’t do as I wish.”

“Madam, it’s impossible to get back. The trail is only wide enough for a burro. How in the name of all possessed do you expect this line to turn around and pass itself in order to lead you up?”

The guide was impatient, but he hushed the threatening female for a time. Soon after this, the riders came to a broad shelf where all might relax the tension. Once here, the woman who had wanted to return to the hotel spoke again.

“Here I stay till you come back! You don’t get me to go no further.”

Then her companion began to remonstrate with her, and the scouts heard the argument.

“They won’t rebate a cent, Lizzie. All this money for this ride wasted while you sit here waiting and the mule ain’t workin’, at all!”

Perhaps it was the idea of paying for something she might miss that induced the complainer to continue down the trail when the guide proceeded on his route.

In suddenly calling a halt on the trail where it was so narrow that the riders’ legs on the CaÑon side were sheer over the edge, many of the mules had turned a sharp projecting cliff and were out of sight, while the rest were still crawling down the trail upon the upper side of the bluff. At the very moment when the halt was ordered Julie’s mule was about to turn the corner, and the wise little beast instantly obeyed the command. His head and forefeet were on the one side of the blade-like angle of the cliff, and his tail and hindfeet on the other side making a decided twist in his body. He could adapt himself nicely to such a squirming necessity, but the saddle did not. Hence Julie was suspended, more than three-fourths of her, over the edge.

“Tally! Tally!” called she to the guide who was the third rider in advance, but out of sight back of the cliff, “half of me is on the down-trail on your side of the cliff, but the other half of me is on the up-trail on the Captain’s side of it. If you’ll only urge the guide to move the line along two feet further I’ll be all one side as I should be.”

Those behind her laughed, because her predicament was exactly as Julie had described it, but Tally knew the danger of the position and had the entire line of mules advance a few steps to allow the scout’s mount to come completely around the curve.

Presently the cavalcade resumed the downward climb. Lower and lower went the trail, and higher, still higher, rose the walls of the CaÑon above the heads of these tiny dots which clung tenaciously as they crawled along the face of the cliffs. Finally the advance guide shouted:

“We’re coming to the plateau where are the Indian Gardens. There we will halt and rest the mules; the riders may stretch their own muscles and walk around, if they choose.” The riders were glad to do so.

After resuming the ride, the frightened woman who had so recently insisted upon going back to the hotel, began to chatter of the beauties seen on this trail, with praise for the one who had named it Bright Angel Trail.

“Not so long since, Madam, you were sure of falling and turning into an Angel yourself, eh?” was the remark made by a short fat man directly back of the spinster.

“Sir!” snapped the offended lady, but she daren’t turn her head.

“Oh, pardon! I didn’t mean a ‘fallen Angel’—not at all; although you could scarcely hope to become a ‘Bright Angel’,” explained the man.

The woman dared not turn about in her saddle to freeze the speaker with one of her looks, but she could maintain a very haughty silence, which she did, to the relief of all the other members of the party.

Jacob’s Ladder, another hair-raising section on the trail, brought forth renewed cries and shrill calls for the guides to save the two entertaining females in the party, but he ignored them now.

“The Devil’s Corkscrew must be named for its facility of compelling one to screw up one’s courage to descend it, eh?” asked Amy, who had managed to get thus far without fainting in the saddle.

“I should say its name implies exactly what it says,” returned Mr. Vernon. “That is: the devil of a corkscrew for man and mule.”

Mr. Vernon, always so precise and particular in his speech, shocked the scouts into a merry laugh of amusement at his shortcoming.

“Verny, Verny! I fear your morals will be completely ruined by the time we are ready to leave the CaÑon,” teased Judith.

“You know the adage: ‘Bad associations, etc.’ don’t you?” laughed Mr. Vernon. “Well, any one can see the effect Gilly has had on us.”

About noon-day they were at the bottom of the stupendous CaÑon where the Colorado roars its tawny torrents through the gorge. After luncheon, and a long rest, the party began to prepare for the ascent. Mr. Gilroy had planned to pitch camp down on the sands near the river, but the two guides having charge of the trip were inclined to vote against such an idea. At length, however, they were overruled, so the guides found a stretch of fine clean sand which would answer admirably for sleeping purposes. While supper was being prepared, the scouts adventured over the rocks and Julie took snapshots. As there was plenty of driftwood it was no trouble to keep a camp-fire going till late in the night. The warmth from this, and the horse blankets proved to be sufficient for the scouts. That night they stretched upon the sand, and gazed up at the mile-high towering cliffs which almost hid the dark-blue vault of heaven.

The following morning the scouts rode up the Bright Angel Trail to the branching, where the Tonto trail leads down to the Kaibab trail, over the suspension bridge, and thus along Bright Angel Creek. On this long ride the guide stopped at Phantom Ranch for dinner and arranged for his party to spend the night in the cabins. They then rode on through Bright Angel CaÑon, to Ribbon Falls. That evening the scouts enjoyed many tales of adventure as told by the guide who had lived in the Grand CaÑon area for many years.

Late afternoon, on the third day, the scouts rode out of the CaÑon once more.

“My!” declared Julie, heaving a great sigh, “I feel as though we had been absent from this upper crust for many weeks.”

“But glad enough to get away from the roar of the Colorado torrent, and the mad echoes in the vast chasms and crevices of the CaÑon,” added Mrs. Vernon, who felt that living way down in the Gorge for two days was enough to satisfy anybody.

For a week thereafter the scouts were continually on the go; then they felt that they had seen everything of any moment in and about the Grand CaÑon, and Tally and the Bass Guide fully agreed with them.

They had gone down Hermit trail, had stopped at the Santa Maria Spring, seen the Lion CaÑon and stayed over-night in the Hermit Cabins. Then retracing their way as far as Cape Butte they struck the Tonto Trail and followed the course until they came out upon the Plateau. They had visited every point from which a view was to be had, and at last Mr. Gilroy demanded an inventory of Julie.

“Not your apparel or assets, but a count of the rolls of film you have on hand by this time, waiting to be developed and printed, once we reach a reasonably priced kodak shop.”

Julie laughed. “Gilly, ‘I dare not tell a lie,’ and I’m afraid to tell you the truth.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Gilroy, “Just what I suspected! Now I shall nip all this photography in the bud by announcing that we bid good-by to temptation by leaving Grand CaÑon in the morning.”

Joan laughed. “No temptation for us to remain, Gilly. Jule’s photographed every stick and stone and living creature to be found up on the rim, down in the gorge, and on the sides of all the walls. She even tried to shoot the sun to-day, but that defied her. Now she’s willing to depart.”

The girls wished to express the species of flora and pictures of birds which they had secured for their scout records, consequently they secured a box and carefully packed the plants and pressed flowers, as well as the quantities of mineral samples, and the many, many snapshots taken throughout the trip.

They had pictures of the black-throated song-sparrows, which, winter as well as summer, in this section of the country never cease their sweet music; the mountain blue-bird; Bullock’s oriole and the Arizona hooded oriole; humming-birds, threshers, cardinals and warblers. Then there were the dusky grouse, known as the pine-hen, because it feeds upon the pine-nuts of the pinyon; the Alpine three-toed woodpecker; the white-crowned sparrow; the greve, mallard, blue-winged teal, the coot, shoveller, ruddy and pintailed ducks; besides these were the whitefaced ibis, the sora, the stilt, the American avocet, and many, many other birds. In fact, the girls had added two hundred and forty different kinds of resident birds to their lists for the scout records. Of course, many of these had been mentioned already in their records of birds in the Rockies, and in the Atlantic Coast States; but the environment and scenery of New Mexico and Arizona were so unusual that the photographs taken of the birds made them seem very different from those they had of the same birds in other localities.

To their floral records they had added the odd species of the cactuses, among which were the hedgehog, fish-hook, barrel-cactus, nigger-head, candy-cactus, the rainbow and the pin-cushion. The variety of chollas, which some people class as a cactus, were the prickly pears, the ball cholla, the common cholla, with its gorgeous flowers of red, pink, white, and yellow; there were the jumping cholla with flowers a light rose shade, also many unnamed species with beautiful flowers.

Among the interesting plants which were photographed and sampled, was the ocatillo, which looks like a clump of gray sticks from ten to twenty feet high, but with such long thorns their whole length that it is known as the “Devil’s Claw.” The night blooming cereus was a flower which the scouts gathered in the desert on one of their camping trips. In the Grand CaÑon they found the rare phacelia, with flowers of a pale violet color. Similar to the phacelia were the borages with their yellow flowers in clusters upon rough, hairy stems. There were the neivetas, the Sactato Gordo, the comb-seed and the stick-seed; gorgeous poppies, primroses, magnificent sunflowers and the Arizona dandelion. As the girl scout troop was named after the dandelion, they took a deep interest in these western dandelions which were very attractive. The plant has feathery bright green leaves, tinged a deep red, and the flowers are very beautiful.

They had also gathered many queer kinds of flowers on the mesas, too numerous to mention individually. So many remarkable species were added to their records that it is doubtful if any other girl scout in the country could compete with their collection.

Finally the boxes were insured and shipped to Elmertown, and then came the last night around the camp fire at Grand CaÑon.

“Gilly, when we are away from this fairy-land it will all seem like a dream to me,” said Betty, sighing.

“At least it will be a pleasant dream, won’t it?” asked he.

“Oh, yes, indeed! I wish it might go on for another summer,” replied Betty, eagerly.

“That’s one topic I’ve been discussing with the Captain: whether Julie will make enough money out of that book she proposes to publish, to take us all on another trip to the west next summer,” ventured Mr. Gilroy, jokingly. But he had no idea of how near the truth he had ventured when he spoke of Julie’s book. That was the subject she had eagerly discussed with Burt, and he had told her that her writing was the kind which would interest a publisher. Hence she was determined to try the field of literature soon after she got home.

After bidding the Bass Guide good-by, the scout-party went to the hotel to wait while Mr. Gilroy sent a few telegrams. When he came back from the desk he held a handful of letters which he waved at Julie.

“Just think of it, Jule! A broken-hearted young Ranger left a whole week without a word from you! Here is a letter for every day since he left Albuquerque—all forwarded from the various towns and left here to accumulate dust for the past four days.”

Every one laughed at Julie’s amazed expression, but it was soon learned that the letters were meant for different members in the party. Two only were for Julie and were postmarked, “Glorieta, New Mexico.”

“Only two, you said,” teased Joan, “but see how thick!”

On the train to Williams, Mr. Gilroy planned to motor the scouts to Ash Fork, thence to take a local train to Montezuma Castle. Castle Hot Springs would be their next destination, and then on to Phoenix where they would follow the plan as at Santa FÉ—motor each day to a new point of interest until all had been visited.

They arrived in Williams and were waiting for Mr. Gilroy to see the ticket agent about a touring car, when the agent handed him a telegram. He took it, tore it open, read it, and hurried over to the scouts.

“Say, children, this is the hardest luck of all! I’ve got to leave you and get back home as quickly as possible,” said he.

“Oh, Gilly!” came a chorus of voices in consternation.

“Yes, and the worst of it is that my lawyer has been trying to catch me at towns along the railroad line for the past two weeks. That was about the time we were crossing the Desert. Now I’ve simply got to rush back.”

“Anything serious, Gilly?” asked Mrs. Vernon, deeply concerned.

“Well, it seems there is a legal quibble over my title to the Adirondack Estate, and my personal presence is needed in Court to testify. Too much is at stake for me to neglect it. Court opens in September, you know, and he wishes to consult with me before that date.”

“Gilly, we all go back when you go!” declared Julie, nodding her head at each of the scouts for their approval to this proposition.

“Yes, indeed, Gilly! that is what I wished to say,” added Mrs. Vernon.

“We won’t miss so very much at that,” said Mr. Vernon. “A mad rush through Arizona, and then a stampede for the boat to cross the Gulf of Mexico in hot weather, and then on home. Now we can get on the train and go through to New York without a care about hotels, and camps, and timetables.”

“Don’t forget, Gilly, we have several other mountains left in our good old United States, from which to select our next season’s sojourn,” declared Joan.

“Don’ leaf Tally outen dat mountain climb, eh?” said the Indian, anxiously.

“We should say not!” exclaimed Mr. Gilroy, and to this the scouts chorused, “Motion made and seconded by our chairman, who is the whole thing.”

“So he says,” laughed Julie, bound to have the last word.