Chapter I
Preparations for the Start—Our Dry Goods Relished by the Cattle—I Become a “Compadre”—Beautiful Northern Sonora—Mexican Muleteers Preferable in Their Own Country—Apache Stories—Signs of Ancient Inhabitants—Arrival at Upper Yaqui River—Opata Indians now Mexicanised—A Flourishing Medical Practice—Mexican Manners—Rock-carvings—How Certain Cacti Propagate.
Heavy floods in the southern part of Arizona and New Mexico, with consequent wash-outs along the railroads, interfered with my plans and somewhat delayed my arrival at Bisbee, Arizona, a small but important mining place from which I had decided to start my expedition. It is only some twenty odd miles from the Mexican border, and the Copper Queen Company maintains there well-supplied stores, where the necessary outfit, provisions, etc., could be procured. The preparations for the start consumed more than two weeks. Animals had to be bought, men selected and hired, provisions purchased and packed. In the meantime I was joined by the various scientific assistants appointed to take part in the expedition.
A Dasylirion.
The horses and mules were bought in the neighbourhood. In purchasing animals much caution is required in that part of the country, as even men who pose as gentlemen will try to take advantage of the situation. One such individual not only raised his prices, but delivered unbroken animals. Much loss of time and endless annoyance were caused, first in the camp and later on the road, by unruly mules, that persistently threw off their packs and had to be subdued and reloaded.
Gradually, I had succeeded in finding the necessary men; This was another hard task to accomplish. There are always plenty of fellows, ready for adventures, greedy to earn money, and eager to join such an expedition. But to select the right ones among the cow-boys and miners of the border lands is most difficult.
By what appears, furthermore, to be the compensating justice of Nature, the treasures of the earth are always hidden in the most unattractive, dismal, and dreary spots. At least all the mining places I ever visited are so located, and Bisbee is no exception. To get away from the cramped little village and its unsavoury restaurant, I established my first camp four miles south of it on a commodious and pleasant opening, where we could do our own cooking. But here a new annoyance, and rather a curious one, was met with. The cattle of the region evinced a peculiar predilection for our wearing apparel. Especially at night, the cows would come wandering in among our tents, like the party who goes about seeking what he may devour, and on getting hold of some such choice morsel as a sock, shirt, or blanket, Mrs. Bossie would chew and chew, “gradually,” to quote Mark Twain, “taking it in, all the while opening and closing her eyes in a kind of religious ecstasy, as if she had never tasted anything quite as good as an overcoat before in her life.” It is no use arguing about tastes, not even with a cow. In spite of this drawback, it was pleasant to be out in the country, which was growing delightfully green after the rains, and gave us a foretaste of what we might expect.
The last thing to do, after all other preparations had been completed, was to get into the camp three small bags containing seven hundred and fifty Mexican dollars, since among the Mexican country population paper money is hardly of any use. There was some talk about a raid on the camp by some toughs in the neighbourhood, but we made our start unmolested, on September 9, 1890.
Thanks to my letters from the Mexican Government, I had no trouble at the custom-house in San Pedro. I stopped a few days there, nevertheless, to buy some Mexican pack-saddles, called aparejos, which, roughly speaking, are leather bags stuffed with straw, to be fastened over the mules’ backs. Through the courtesy of the Mexican custom officials I also secured two excellent and reliable Mexican packers, to take the place of some Americans who had been fighting in the camp and proved themselves unfit for my purpose.
As a mark of regard, one of the custom officers invited me to act as godfather to his child. I had to support the baby’s head during the ceremony, while an elderly woman held the little body. According to custom, I gave twenty-five cents to every member of the party, and to the child a more adequate present. From now on I was called compadre by most of the people in the village, and that sacred relationship was established between myself and the baby’s family, which is deemed of so much importance in the life of the Mexicans. During ten years of travel and ethnological activity I have never met the child again, but I hope that he is getting on well.
Cottonwood.
How beautifully fresh the country looked as we travelled southward in Northern Sonora! The dreary plains of Arizona gave way to a more varied landscape, with picturesque hills studded with oaks and mountain cedars. Along the rivers cottonwood was especially noticeable. There was also an abundance of wild-grape vines. Everywhere near the shady creeks I saw the evening primrose, brilliantly yellow, while the intense, carmine-red flowers of the lobelia peeped out from under the shrubs. But of all the flowers on the banks of the streams, the most remarkable was the exquisitely beautiful Datura meteloides, with its gorgeous white crown, six inches long and four inches wide. We saw one cluster of this creeper fully fifty feet in circumference. It is well known among the Navajo Indians that the root of this plant, when eaten, acts as a powerful stimulant; but the better class among the tribe look upon it with disfavour, as its use often leads to madness and death. The effect of the poison is cumulative, and the Indians under its influence, like the Malays, run amuck and try to kill everybody they meet.
There is also found a species of cactus, with a root which looks like an enormous carrot. One small plant had a root four feet long. It is used as soap.
Among the birds, doves and flycatchers were most commonly seen, one species of the latter frequently dazzling our eyes with its brilliant vermilion plumage.
The men I had hired before crossing the border did not work at all well with the Mexicans. They generally considered themselves vastly superior to the latter, whom they did not recognise as “white men.” Personally, I preferred the Mexicans, who were obedient, obliging, and less lawless than the rough, mixed-white citizens of the American Southwest. As an illustration of the moral status of the frontier population, I may relate that when about sixty miles south of the border, a custom-house official stationed in the neighbourhood insisted upon examining all my baggage, which, of course, would have involved a lot of trouble. He was neither worse nor better than other custom officers, who seem to exist only to annoy people, and by the exertion of a little patience I succeeded in settling the matter satisfactorily. But one of my foremen, who had noticed my annoyance, came up to me and asked if I desired “to get rid” of him; if I did, said he, he knew how he could serve me so that nothing more would be heard from the Mexican!
Cereus Greggii. A small cactus with enormous root.
I gradually weeded out this unscrupulous element among the men, and replaced most of the American with Mexican muleteers, who are far superior in that particular line of business. In hiring them, only one precaution had always to be observed: never to accept one unless he had a good recommendation from his village authorities or some prominent man in the neighbourhood.
The first village of any importance we passed was Fronteras. It is built on the summit and slopes of an elevated plateau and looks extremely picturesque at a distance. Seen close, however, it turns out to be a wretched little cluster of adobe, or sun-dried brick, houses. Not only the town itself, but also all the ranches in the neighbourhood are erected on elevations, a precaution from former days against the bloodthirsty Apaches.
Not so very long ago Fronteras was quite an important place, numbering, it is said, some 2,000 inhabitants. But the Apaches, by their incessant attacks, made the life of the villagers so miserable that the place became depopulated. Once it was even entirely abandoned. Many stories of the constant fights with these savages are related by the survivors of those struggles. Never was it safe in those days to venture outside of the town limits. Yet the conflicts did not always end in one way, and the Mexicans sometimes got the better of the raiders, although it may be doubted whether the methods by which these results were brought about would come under the rules of modern warfare.
One bright moonlight night an old man, who had himself taken part in many an Apache fight, led me to a deep gorge where seven Apaches once met their doom. The story he told was as follows:
Fronteras.
A large band of warriors came threateningly into the town. They had killed two hawks and, decorated with their feathers, were on the warpath. As they were in such numbers the Mexicans realised that it would be useless to attempt resistance, and therefore sued for peace, which was granted. A peace-banquet followed, during which mescal, the Mexican brandy, flowed freely, distributed without stint to the warriors by their wily hosts, who were abiding their time. When the Apaches were intoxicated the villagers fell upon them and captured seven men; most of the band, however, managed to escape. Next day the prisoners were taken to the ravine and speared, charges of powder being deemed too good for them. Only el capitan, pointing to his head, requested, as a special favour, to be shot, which was done. Their bodies were buried in the ravine where they fell, but too long a time had already elapsed since the event to enable me to secure for my collections the specimens for which I had been on the lookout. Yet I was told by the inhabitants that the ground about the town was so full of Apache remains that I should have no difficulty in gaining my object in places close by. A number of Apaches, men and women, I was informed, had once been dumped into a well. I set to work at the place indicated, and our efforts were rewarded by the exhumation of eight skulls in perfect condition, besides many typical bones. The last raid of the Apaches on Fronteras was in 1875.
Remarkable Ant-hill.
Passing Cochuta about a hundred miles south of Bisbee, we came upon a deposit of fossils. It was scarcely more than a mile in extent, but many bones were said to have been taken away from it as curiosities. I had already observed isolated fossil bones along the creeks on several occasions during our travels, but we could find nothing here of value.
Signs that the country was in former times occupied by another race than its present inhabitants are seen everywhere throughout the region we traversed following the road to the south. Here they appear frequently as remarkable groupings of stones firmly embedded in the ground. Only the tops of the stones (the total length of which is about one foot) are seen above the surface, much as stones are used in parks and gardens for ornamental purposes. They are arranged in circles or in rectangles. I saw two circles close to each other, each six feet in diameter. One rectangle measured fifty feet in length by half that in width. Low walls divided it into three indistinct partitions. There was never any wall built underneath these surface stones, nor were there any traces of charring. Among the ruins found on top of the hills we collected a lot of broken pottery and some flint arrowheads. In several places in this district we found gold and coal, but not in paying quantities.
Some forty miles south of Cochuta we turned in a southerly direction, ascending a hilly plateau 3,200 feet above sea-level. Here we observed the first orchids, yellow in colour and deliciously fragrant, and in the cañon below we met the first palms. The rocks continued to show volcanic and metamorphic formation.
About 130 miles south of Bisbee we caught the first glimpse of the Sierra Madre rising above the foot-hills, some forty miles off to the east. Its lofty mountain peaks basking in the clear blue ether, beckoned to us inspiringly and raised our expectations of success. This, then, was the region we were to explore! Little did I think then that it would shelter me for several years. It looked so near and was yet so far, and as we travelled on southward the sight of it was soon lost again.
We gradually descended to the Bavispe River, a name here given to the Yaqui River, in accordance with the custom which the Mexicans have in common with people in other parts of the world of giving different names to one river in its course through different districts. It was a treat to catch the first sight of the magnificent sheet of water the river forms near the town of Opoto, as it slowly wends its way through green shrubs. It is the largest river of the west coast of Mexico and is here about 1,400 feet above the level of the sea.
Following the river to the south, we soon passed the towns of Guasavas and Granados. The vegetation along the river banks is in strong contrast to the land in general. Here are fields of sugar-cane, and in the orchards, orange, fig, and lime trees grow in abundance. The country, though fertile, is dry, and the heat is great. Even at the end of October the thermometer sometimes registered 100° F. in the shade. The grass had become dry and scarce, and it was difficult to keep the animals in satisfactory condition.
Church Bells at Opoto.
This territory was once in the possession of the large tribe of Opata Indians, who are now civilised. They have lost their language, religion, and traditions, dress like the Mexicans, and in appearance are in no way distinguishable from the labouring class of Mexico with which they are thoroughly merged through frequent intermarriages.
As we passed the hamlets, our large party and outfit created quite a sensation and aroused the people from the uneventful routine of their daily existence. They used to surround my tent, especially mornings and evenings, as if an auction had been going on inside. Some of them wanted to sell things that would come in handy, such as fowls or panoche (brown sugar). One woman offered me three chickens for one dollar. I told her she charged too high a price, as chickens were not worth more than twenty-five cents apiece; but she insisted that she wanted a dollar, because she had promised that amount to the padre for reading a mass for a man who had died in the time of Hidalgo at the beginning of the century.
Also a Visitor.
But most of the crowd flocked to my tent to consult me about their ailments. It was useless to tell them that I was not a medical man, or that I had not much medicine to spare, carrying only what I expected to use for my own party. If I had given them all they wanted, our little stock would have been exhausted on the first day; but in order to soften my heart they would send me molasses, sugar-cane, and similar delicacies. One poor old woman who was suffering from cancer even offered me her donkey if I would cure her—an offer in a way equivalent to a Wall Street magnate’s millions, for the donkey was her sole possession on earth.
A Mexican from Opoto.
They all were anxious to have me feel their pulse, whether there was anything the matter with them or not. They firmly believed that this mysterious touch enabled me to tell whether they were afflicted with any kind of disease and how long they were going to live. A woman in delicate condition wanted me to feel her pulse and to tell her from that when her child was going to be born. I only hope that my practical advice and the little medicine I could give them relieved some of their backaches and sideaches, their felons, croups, and fevers and agues, and above all, their indigestion, which is the prevailing trouble in that section of the country. But I confess that I was nearly tired out with these consultations. In consequence of frequent intermarriages there are many deaf and dumb persons among them, and epilepsy and insanity are by no means rare.
On the other hand, I was assured that such a character as a thief was here unknown. However this might be, it was certain that the Mexicans of Eastern Sonora were a nice class of people. They were pleasant to deal with, very active and obedient, and I never wish for better men than those I then had in my camp, nearly all of whom were from these parts. The people were poor, but genuinely hospitable. Of course they were ignorant, and might not, for instance, recognise a check unless it was green. In each town, however, I found one or two men comparatively rich, who knew more of the world than the others, and who helped me out in my difficulties by going from house to house, collecting all the available cash in town, or what coffee and sugar could be spared to make up the deficiency. One thing is certain, I should never have gotten on so well had it not been for the friendly and obliging attitude of the Mexicans everywhere. As an instance, when the great scarcity of grass began to tell seriously on the animals, I was efficiently helped out by the courtesy of some influential men. Without any personal letters of introduction I received many services whenever I showed my letters of recommendation from the Governor of the State, and had a hearty welcome.
I was so much impressed with the readiness of the people to accommodate and serve me that my notebook contains the remark: “I find the Mexicans more obliging than any nation I have ever come in contact with.” It has been my lot to travel for years in Mexico, and my experience with her people only tended to deepen the pleasant impression I received at the outset. Anyone who travels through Mexico well recommended and conducts himself in accordance with the standard of a gentleman is sure to be agreeably surprised by the hospitality and helpfulness of the people, high and low, and it is not a meaningless phrase of politeness only by which a Mexican “places his house at your disposal.”
It is of the utmost importance to have as your chief packer a man who thoroughly understands how to take care of the animals. It is not the custom in Mexico, as it is everywhere in Australia, to wash the backs of the animals as soon as the packs or saddles are taken off—a precaution which is very beneficial, as it strengthens the skin and prevents inflammation and sores. In the Southwest they do not wash their beasts of burden until the mischief is done and they have to allay the swelling and heal up the cuts. If not properly cared for from the beginning, the animals will soon be ailing; some grow unfit for service, and much time is lost mornings and evenings curing their sores. Through the carelessness of some packers I lost several valuable mules from such wounds. In summer the blue-bottle fly aggravates the annoyance, as it lays its eggs in the open spaces of the skin, and maggots develop in a very short time. Of course there are many ways of ridding an animal of this pest, but here, as everywhere, the proverbial ounce of prevention is better than the pound of cure.
A curious case of a man whose life was threatened by a blue-bottle fly and its maggots came to nay notice. He was a soldier, and once in a fight he had his nose cut off so that the nostrils became entirely exposed. One night when he was asleep, drunk, a fly laid its eggs in his nose, and when these were hatched it seemed as if the man was to be eaten up alive. I gave him some relief by syringing the parts with a solution of corrosive sublimate. Then an intelligent Mexican, who had an extensive knowledge of the numberless native medicinal plants (many of which, no doubt, are very valuable), treated the patient, and in two days the poor wretch seemed to be in a fair way to be saved.
Rock-carvings near Granados.
Near Granados I heard of some petroglyphs, or rock-carvings, and sent Mr. Stephen to examine them. The Mexicans called them “Painted Face.” They were to be found only two miles and a half to the northwest of the town, and were interesting. The designs were rudely pecked on the moderately smooth felsite cliffs on a nearly perpendicular wall in the foot-hills, about forty feet above the bed of the arroyo, or gulch. All the human figures were drawn in the characteristic style that we find farther north, the hands and feet being defined with three radiating lines, like a bird’s track. The size of the figure, carved in something like a frame, is about twenty by twenty-four inches, and each of the three figures in the group close below is about eighteen inches high. Some of the drawings evidently represent the deified dragon-fly found almost everywhere among the ruins of Arizona and Northern Mexico. There are also the concentric circles, the conventionalised spiral, and the meander design, so common among the North American Indians, and still in use among the Moquis.
Our botanist, Mr. Hartman, drew my attention to an interesting cactus, which is beautifully shaped like a candelabra, and attains a height of three to five feet. As it grows old, the top joints of the branches become thick and heavy and are easily broken off by the wind. The joints, like all other parts of the plant, are beset with numerous inch-long spines, and many of them fasten in the loose, moist soil and strike root. In this way many new plants are formed, standing in a circle around the mother plant. On sloping ground the young plants form rows, some forty feet long. There was a fruit to be observed, but very scarce in comparison with that of other species of Cereus growing in the vicinity.