In making up personnel records I asked him to fill out a blank. He gave his name and age. "Education" was followed by "A.B." and "M.A." Nearest relative:
"None." In case of injury or death notify—" Nobody. " That was all. Somewhere he had a family that stood for something in the world, but where? He was a striking person, with his snow-white hair, bright blue eyes, and erect, soldier-like bearing. White Mountain and Ranger Winess had known him in Yellowstone; Ranger Fisk had seen him in Rainier; Ranger West had met him at Glacier. He
taught me the game of cribbage, and the old game of gold-rush days—solo.
One morning Pat came to my cabin and handed me a book. Without speaking he
turned and walked away. Inside the volume I found a note: "I am going away.
This is my favorite book. I want you to have it and keep it." The title of the book was Story of an African Farm. None of us ever saw Pat again.
The yearly rains began to come daily, each with more force and water than the
preceding one. Lightning flashed like bombs exploding, and thunder roared and
reverberated back and forth from Rim to Rim of the Canyon. We sank above our
shoes in mud every time we left the cabin. The days were disagreeable, but the
evenings were spent in the cabin, Ranger Winess with his guitar and the other boys singing while we girls made fudge or sea-foam. Such quantities of candy as
that bunch could consume! The sugar was paid for from the proceeds of a Put-
and-Take game that kept us entertained.
We had a girl friend, Virginia, from Washington as a guest, and she fell in love with Arizona. Also with Ranger Winess. It was about arranged that she would remain permanently, but one unlucky day he took her down Bright Angel Trail.
He provided her with a tall lank mule, "By Gosh," to ride, and she had never been aboard an animal before. Every time By Gosh flopped an ear she thought
he was trying to slap her in the face. On a steep part of the trail a hornet stung the mule, and he began to buck and kick.
I asked Virginia what she did then.
"I didn't do anything. By Gosh was doing enough for both of us," she said.
Ranger Winess said, however, that she turned her mule's head in toward the bank
and whacked him with the stick she carried. Which was the logical thing to do.
Unfortunately Ranger Winess teased her a little about the incident, and a slight coolness arose. Just to show how little she cared for his company, Virginia left our party and strolled up to the Rim to observe the effect of moonlight on the mist that filled it.
Our game of Put-and-Take was running along merrily when we heard a shriek,
then another. We rushed out, and there was Dollar Mark Bull chasing Virginia around and around among the big pine trees while she yelled like a calliope.
Seeing the door open she knocked a few of us over in her hurry to get inside.
Then she bravely slammed the door and stood against it! Fortunately, Dollar Mark retreated and no lives were lost.
The rangers departed, we soothed Virginia, now determined not to remain permanently, and settled down for the night. Everything quiet and peaceful, thank goodness!
Alas! The most piercing shrieks I ever heard brought me upright in bed with every hair standing on end. It was morning. I looked at Virginia's bed. I could see her quite distinctly, parts of her at least. Her head was buried, ostrich-wise, in the blankets, while her feet beat a wild tattoo in the air. Stell woke up and joined the chorus. The cause of it all was a bewildered Navajo buck who stood mutely
in the doorway, staring at the havoc he had created. At arm's length he tendered a pair of moccasins for sale. It was the first Reservation Indian in native dress, or rather undress, the girls had seen, and they truly expected to be scalped.
It never occurs to an Indian to knock at a door, nor does the question of propriety enter into his calculations when he has an object in view.
I told him to leave, and he went out. An hour later, however, when we went to
breakfast, he was squatted outside my door waiting for us to appear. He had silver bracelets and rings beaten out of Mexican coins and studded with native turquoise and desert rubies. We each bought something. I bought because I liked
his wares, and the other girls purchased as a sort of thank-offering for mercies received.
The bracelets were set with the brilliant rubies found by the Indians in the desert.
It is said that ants excavating far beneath the surface bring these semi-precious stones to the top. Others contend that they are not found underneath the ground
but are brought by the ants from somewhere near the nest because their glitter attracts the ant. True or false, the story results in every anthill being carefully searched.
Virginia's visit was drawing to a close, and White Mountain and I decided to announce our engagement while she was still with us. We gave a dinner at El Tovar, with the rangers and our closest friends present. At the same party another ranger announced his engagement and so the dinner was a hilarious affair.
One of the oldest rangers there, and one notoriously shy with women, made me
the object of a general laugh. He raised his glass solemnly and said: "Well, here's wishin' you joy, but I jest want to say this: ef you'd a played yo' cyards a little bit different, you wouldn't 'a had to take White Mountain."
Before the dinner was over a call came from the public camp ground for aid. Our
party broke up, and we girls went to the assistance of a fourteen-year-old mother whose baby was ill. Bad food and ignorance had been too much for the little nameless fellow, and he died about midnight. There was a terrible electric storm raging, and rain poured down through the old tent where the baby died.
