But at this point, the animal broke into a rapid canter, and it may be said that the real journey began. It was yet early in the day, and the horses being fresh, and numbering the very best that the emigrant train could afford, they were fully able to bear a strain.
And the guide did not spare them. He took the eastern route, where the traveling was somewhat rougher, and his gallop soon grew into what almost was a run. The sun reached the meridian, and still he did not show any signs of abating his speed. When it was considerably past, they reined up near a small stream, watered their horses and gave them a breathing spell.
Leonidas Swipes rode up beside the guide and said,
“I say, Mr. Lancaster, wouldn’t it be a rather good idea to—that is to take lunch just now?”
“You can stay and eat if you choose, but the rest of us don’t wait for that; or they can eat on the way, but we don’t stop agin till we’re among the Chevenine Hills. Come, boys, we’ve no time to wait.”
And they remounted and sped away.
CHAPTER XII.
THE APACHE GORGE.
Lancaster the guide, in his reference to the Chevenine Hills, had described them quite aptly. A long sweep of level country, containing thousands of square miles, was divided by a ridge of hills, which after making a long sweep went straight across the country. At one point in this wild ridge, there was a pass through which the Indians traveling north and south naturally made their way, in preference to climbing and clambering for a quarter of a mile through and over rocks, chasms and gorges, dangerous to horses and sometimes to men. This was the famous “Apache Gorge.”
This famous spot was notorious to emigrants for its danger. Those who were journeying toward the most southermost part of California generally passed thro’ the gorge, and those who did as if wise were fully prepared for an assault from the vigilant Apaches or Pah Utahs. Indeed many preferred when it was possible to labor through the hills, when such a thing was within the range of human possibility, in preference to braving the perilous pass.
It was this point at which the trapper had aimed, and toward which he pressed his horse to the utmost. It was scarcely past noon when he pointed to a ridge rising in the sky, clearly defined against the blue horizon beyond, which he informed them were the Chevenine Hills, and he was soon able to locate precisely the “Apache Gorge.”