ROYAL GORGE, CAÑON OF THE ARKANSAS RIVER.—Mighty cleavage, wondrous chasm, tremendous gash, is that marvelous rent in the Park Range known as Royal Gorge, through which the Arkansas has cut its way, leaving precipitous walls 3000 feet high, upon the upper breasts of which eagles make their secure eyries. This amazing fissure is less than 100 feet wide at the top, and so narrow at the base that to avoid tunneling the engineers of the Denver and Rio Grande Railway built a hanging bridge, with fastenings in the walls, for a roadway through this awful pass, under which the confined river flows with dreadful roar. A view of this astounding cañon is one of terrific grandeur, of sublime mightiness, of inspiring yet awesome wonder.
PHANTOM CURVE.
Southwest of these now vacant cave dwellings, in the northeast corner of Arizona, is a short branch of the San Juan River, known as the Rio de Chelly, which runs through a cañon celebrated in the history of Indian warfare as presenting the most serious obstacles encountered by expeditions under Colonel Sumner and General Canby. The region, and particularly De Chelly Cañon, was the stronghold of the Navajoe Indians, who rendered the defile almost impregnable. Time and again efforts were made by large bodies of troops to force a passage, but as often they were driven back by the Indians hurling stones down the thousand feet of perpendicular height. The rear was likewise protected by remarkable ruggedness of the approach, and an army sent against them was thus held at bay by the Indians for several months. Kit Carson was finally given a commission as colonel and sent against the defiant marauders with a force of five hundred men. Understanding all the difficulties of the situation, he so disposed his army as to hold the Indians within their lines of refuge, and choosing winter as the best time for action, laid a siege that effectually cut off all communication. Aid from the outside being thus prevented, and all supplies shut off, the Navajoes were presently reduced to such straits that after three desperate but futile efforts to escape, the entire band surrendered.
After passing through Animas Cañon, on the eastern journey, the scenery continues impressively beautiful, for several pellucid streams are crossed at points where they have cut deep furrows in the earth, and eaten their way through opposing mountains. At Ignacio we met with the first considerable number of Indians seen thus far during our trip. This place is the headquarters of the Southern Utes’ reservation, and was named after their chief. Twenty miles beyond we cross the Rio Piedra and enter the valley of the San Juan, which is followed for nearly sixty miles, and until Navajo is reached, where another small band of miserable-looking Indians have their quarters, and besiege incoming passenger trains with importunities that travelers almost invariably generously respond to. Now we are running along the borders of New Mexico, a line of demarkation indicated by the San Juan range that lies north of us, while southward stretches away the undulating and arid plains. At Amargo we are met by another band of Indians, whose sullen countenances and bedraggled appearance plainly show them to be Apaches, whose numbers, however, are now so reduced that the murderous raids which made the tribe celebrated in the early annals of the far west, are not likely to be repeated again.
TRAIL OVER THE SAN JUAN MOUNTAINS.
