"Say," Ranger West shouted, "White Mountain, Poison Spring is just around the bend. We'll find the poor devil flattened out there sure. You ride slow, Margie, and we'll hurry along."
I didn't say anything, but I hurried along too. This spring he spoke of was strongly impregnated with arsenic. Even the wild burros shunned it; but I hardly dared to hope this desperate man would pass by it. The men rode over the expected shoes without stopping, but I got off of Tar Baby and got them. I began to think I would stay a little way behind. I felt rather weak and sick. Rounding the turn I could see there was nothing at the spring, and in the distance a stumbling figure was weaving along. The men were nearing him, so I spurred to a run. Every now and then the man would fall, lie prone for a minute, then struggle to his feet and go on. Suddenly my heart stood still. The figure left the trail and headed straight for the edge of the precipice. The river had made itself heard at last.
Ranger West turned Dixie from the trail and rode straight across the plateau to where the man had disappeared behind a big boulder. The Chief followed West, but I rode the trail and kept my eyes resolutely ahead of me. I knew I couldn't endure seeing the man jump to certain death when we were at his heels with water and life.
When I looked up again Ranger West had his rope in his hand widening the loop. White Mountain was with him. They were ten or fifteen feet from the man, who was lying on his stomach peering down at the water. As the poor fellow raised himself for the plunge, with a quick flirt of his wrist the ranger tossed the rope across the intervening space, and as the noose settled around the man's arms White Mountain and the ranger dragged him back from death.
He lay stunned for a space, then twisted himself over, and mumbled through swollen, bleeding lips: "Is that really water down there?"
They helped him back into the trail and gave him a swallow from a canteen. It took both the men to manage him, for with the first taste of water he went raving crazy. He fought and cursed them, and cried like a baby because he couldn't hold the canteen in his own hands. They laid him in the shade of our horses and poured a few drops down his throat at intervals until a degree of sanity returned. He was then placed on the Chief's horse, and the Chief and Ranger West took turns, one riding Dixie while the other helped the man stay in the saddle. We found later he was a German chemist looking for mineral deposits in the Canyon.
Each morning a daily report of the previous day's doings is posted in Ranger Headquarters. I was curious to know what Ranger West's contribution would be for that day. This is what he said:
"Patrolled Tonto Trail looking for lost horses. Accompanied Chief Ranger and wife. Brought in lost tenderfoot. Nothing to report."
And that was that.
The Chief decided to drive out to Desert View the afternoon following our Canyon experience, and he said I could go if I liked; he said he couldn't promise any excitement, but the lupine was beautiful in Long Jim Canyon, and I might enjoy it.