THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL by COLONEL HENRY INMAN (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

The Peak Is Known As "Simpson'S Rest,"

And Is One Of The Notable Features Of The Rugged landscape.

 

 

 

Pike'S Peak, Far Away To The North, Intensely White And Silvery In the

Clear Sky, Hangs Like A Great Dome High In the Region Of The Clouds,

A Marked object, Worthy To Commemorate The Indefatigable Efforts Of

The Early Voyageur Whose Name It Bears.

 

 

 

In This Wonderful Locality, Both Pike'S Peak And The Snowy Range Over

Two Hundred miles From Our Point Of Observation Really Seem To The

Uninitiated as If A Brisk Walk Of An Hour Or Two Would Enable One To

Reach Them, So Deceptive Is The Atmosphere Of These Elevated regions.

 

 

 

About Two Miles From The Crest Of The Range, Yet Over Seven Thousand

Feet Above The Sea-Level, In a Pretty Little Depression About As

Large As A Medium-Sized corn-Field In the Eastern States, Uncle

Dick Wooton Lived, And Here, Too, Was His Toll-Gate.  The Veteran

Mountaineer Erected a Substantial House Of Adobe, After The Style

Of One Of The Old-Time Southern Plantation Residences, A Memory,

Perhaps, Of His Youth, When He Raised tobacco In his Father'S Fields

In Kentucky.[76]

 

 

 

The Most Charming Hour In which To Be On The Crest Of Raton Range Is

In The Afternoon, When The Weather Is Clear And Calm.  As The Night

Comes On Apace In the Distant Valley Beneath, The Evening Shadows

Drop Down, Pencilled with Broad Bands Of Rosy Light As They Creep

Slowly Across The Beautiful Landscape, While The Rugged vista Below

Is Enveloped in a Diffused haze Like That Which Marks The Season Of

The Indian Summer In the Lower Great Plains.  Above, The Sky Curves

Toward The Relatively Restricted horizon, With Not A Cloud To Dim

Its Intense Blue, Nowhere So Beautiful As In these Lofty Altitudes.

 

 

 

The Sun, However, Does Not Always Shine Resplendently; There Are

Times When The Most Terrific Storms Of Wind, Hail, And Rain Change

The Entire Aspect Of The Scene.  Fortunately, These Violent Bursts

Never Last Long; They Vanish As Rapidly As They Come, Leaving In

Their Wake The Most Phenomenally Beautiful Rainbows, Whose Trailing

Splendours Which They Owe To The Dry And Rare Air Of The Region, And

Its High Refractory Power, Are Gorgeous In the Extreme.

 

 

 

In 1872 The Atchison, Topeka, And Santa Fe Railroad Entered the

Valley Of The Upper Arkansas.  Twenty-Four Years Ago, On A Delicious

October Afternoon, I Stood On The Absolutely Level Plateau At The

Mouth Of Pawnee Fork Where That Historic Creek Debouches Into The

Great River.  The Remembrance Of That View Will Never Pass From My

Memory, For It Showed a Curious Temporary Blending Of Two Distinct

Civilizations.  One, The New, Marking The Course Of Empire In its

Restless March Westward; The Other, That Of The Aboriginal, Which,

Like A Dissolving View, Was Soon To Fade Away And Be Forgotten.

 

 

 

The Box-Elders And Cottonwoods Thinly Covering The Creek-Bottom Were

Gradually Donning Their Autumn Dress Of Russet, And The Mirage Had

Already Commenced its Fantastic Play With The Landscape.  On The Sides

And Crests Of The Sparsely Grassed sand Hills South Of The Arkansas

A Few Buffaloes Were Grazing In company With Hundreds Of Texas Cattle,

While In the Broad Valley Beneath, Small Flocks Of Graceful Antelope

Were Lying Down, Quietly Ruminating Their Midday Meal.

 

 

 

In The Distance, Far Eastwardly, A Train Of Cars Could Be Seen

Approaching; As Far As The Eye Could Reach, On Either Side Of The

Track, The Virgin Sod Had Been Turned to The Sun; The "Empire Of

The Plough" Was Established, And The March Of Immigration In its

Hunger For The Horizon Had Begun.

 

 

 

Half A Mile Away From The Bridge Spanning The Fork, Under The Grateful

Shade Of The Largest Trees, About Twenty Skin Lodges Were Irregularly

Grouped; On The Brown Sod Of The Sun-Cured grass A Herd Of A Hundred

Ponies Were Lazily Feeding, While A Troop Of Dusky Little Children

Were Chasing The Yellow Butterflies From The Dried and Withered

Sunflower Stalks Which Once So Conspicuously Marked the Well-Worn

Highway To The Mountains.  These Indians, The Remnant Of A Tribe

Powerful In the Years Of Savage Sovereignty, Were On Their Way,

In Charge Of Their Agent, To Their New Homes, On The Reservation

Just Allotted to Them By The Government, A Hundred miles South Of

The Arkansas.

 

 

 

Their Primitive Lodges Contrasted strangely With The Peaceful Little

Sod-Houses, Dugouts, And White Cottages Of The Incoming Settlers On

The Public Lands, With The Villages Struggling Into Existence, And

Above All With The Rapidly Moving Cars; Unmistakable Evidences That

The New Civilization Was Soon To Sweep The Red men Before It Like

Chaff Before The Wind.

 

 

 

Farther To The West, A Caravan Of White-Covered wagons Loaded with

Supplies For Some Remote Military Post, The Last That Would Ever

Travel The Old Trail, Was Slowly Crawling Toward The Setting Sun.

I Watched it Until Only A Cloud Of Dust Marked its Place Low Down

On The Horizon, And It Was Soon Lost Sight Of In the Purple Mist

That Was Rapidly Overspreading The Far-Reaching Prairie.

 

 

 

It Was The Beginning Of The End; On The 9Th Of February, 1880, The

First Train Over The Atchison, Topeka, And Santa Fe Railroad Arrived

At Santa Fe And The Old Trail As A Route Of Commerce Was Closed

Forever.  The Once Great Highway Is Now Only A Picture In the Memory

Of The Few Who Have Travelled its Weary Course, Following The Windings

Of The Silent Arkansas, On To The Portals That Guard The Rugged

Pathway Leading To The Shores Of The Blue Pacific.

 

 

Chapter XXIV (Footnotes)

[1] The Whole Country Watered by The Mississippi And Missouri Was

Called florida At That Time.

 

 

 

[2] The Celebrated jesuit, Author Of _The History Of New France_,

_Journals Of A Voyage To North America_, _Letters To The Duchess_, Etc.

 

 

 

[3] Otoes.

 

 

 

[4] Iowas.

 

 

 

[5] Boulevard, Promenade.

 

 

 

[6] Notes Of A Military Reconnoissance From Fort Leavenworth,

In Missouri, To San Diego, In california, Including Parts Of The

Arkansas, Del Norte, And Gila Rivers.  Brevet Major W. H. Emory,

Corps Of Topographical Engineers, United states Army, 1846.

 

 

 

[7] Hon. W. F. Arny, In his Centennial Celebration Address At Santa Fe,

July 4, 1876.

 

 

 

[8] Edwards, _Conquest Of New Mexico_.

 

 

 

[9] I Think This Is Bancroft'S Idea.

 

 

 

[10] _Historical Sketches Of New Mexico_, L. Bradford Prince, Late

Chief Justice Of New Mexico, 1883.

 

 

 

[11] D. H. Coyner, 1847.

 

 

 

[12] He Was Travelling Parallel To The Old Santa Fe Trail All The Time,

But Did Not Know It Until He Was Overtaken By A Band Of Kaw Indians.

 

 

 

[13] Mcknight Was Murdered south Of The Arkansas By The Comanches

In The Winter Of 1822.

Chapter XXIV (Footnotes)

[14] Chouteau'S Island.

 

 

 

[15] _Hennepin'S Journal_.

 

 

 

[16] The Line Between The United states And Mexico (Or New Spain,

As It Was Called) Was Defined by A Treaty Negotiated in 1819,

Between The Chevalier De Onis, Then Spanish Minister At Washington,

And John Quincy Adams, Secretary Of State.  According To Its

Provisions, The Boundary Between Mexico And Louisiana, Which Had Been

Added to The Union, Commenced with The River Sabine At Its Entrance

Into The Gulf Of Mexico, At About The Twenty-Ninth Degree Of North

Latitude And The Ninety-Fourth Degree Of Longitude, West From

Greenwich, And Followed it As Far As Its Junction With The Red river

Of Natchitoches, Which Then Served to Mark The Frontier Up To The

One Hundredth Degree Of West Longitude, Where The Line Ran Directly

North To The Arkansas, Which It Followed to Its Source At The

Forty-Second Degree Of North Latitude, Whence Another Straight Line

Was Drawn Up The Same Parallel To The Pacific Coast.

 

 

 

[17] This Tribe Kept Up Its Reputation Under The Dreaded satanta,

Until 1868--A Period Of Forty Years--When It Was Whipped into

Submission By The Gallant Custer.  Satanta Was Its War Chief,

One Of The Most Cruel Savages The Great Plains Ever Produced.

He Died a Few Years Ago In the State Prison Of Texas.

 

 

 

[18] Mcness Creek Is On The Old Cimarron Trail To Santa Fe, A Little

East Of A Line Drawn South From Bent'S Fort.

 

 

 

[19] Mr. Bryant, Of Kansas, Who Died a Few Years Ago, Was One Of

The Pioneers In the Trade With Santa Fe.  Previous To His Decease

He Wrote For A Kansas Newspaper A Narrative Of His First Trip Across

The Great Plains; An Interesting Monograph Of Hardship And Suffering.

For The Use Of This Document I Am Indebted to Hon. Sol. Miller,

The Editor Of The Journal In which It Originally Appeared.  I Have

Also Used very Extensively The Notes Of Mr. William Y. Hitt, One Of

The Bryant Party, Whose Son Kindly Placed them At My Disposal, And

Copied liberally From The Official Report Of Major Bennett Riley--

Afterward The Celebrated general Of Mexican War Fame, And For Whom

The Cavalry Depot In kansas Is Named; As Also From The Journal Of

Captain Philip St. George Cooke, Who Accompanied major Riley On

His Expedition.

Chapter XXIV (Footnotes)

[20] Chouteau'S Island, At The Mouth Of Sand Creek.

 

 

 

[21] Valley Of The Upper Arkansas.

 

 

 

[22] About Three Miles East Of The Town Of Great Bend, Barton County,

Kansas.

 

 

 

[23] The Old Santa Fe Trail Crosses The Creek Some Miles North Of

Hutchinson, And Coincides With The Track Again At The Mouth Of

Walnut Creek, Three Miles East Of Great Bend.

 

 

 

[24] There Are Many Conflicting accounts In regard To The Sum

Don Antonio Carried with Him On That Unfortunate Trip.  Some

Authorities Put It As High As Sixty Thousand; I Have Taken A Mean

Of The Various Sums, And As This Method Will Suffice In mathematics,

Perhaps We Can Approximate The Truth In this Instance.

 

 

 

[25] General Emory Of The Union Army During The Civil War.  He Made

An Official Report Of The Country Through Which The Army Of The West

Passed, Accompanied by Maps, And His _Reconnoissance In new Mexico

And California_, Published by The Government In 1848, Is The First

Authentic Record Of The Region, Considered topographically And

Geologically.

 

 

 

[26] _Doniphan'S Expedition, Containing an Account Of The Conquest

Of New Mexico_, Etc.  John T. Hughes, A.B., Of The First Regiment

Of Missouri Cavalry.  1850.

 

 

 

[27] Deep Gorge.

 

 

 

[28] Colonel Leavenworth, For Whom Fort Leavenworth Is Named, And

Who Built Several Army Posts In the Far West.