On our march today we came to a dry run, what Pennypacker calls "a thunder-shower river," and after digging four feet found better water than we had had for some time. We were all thirsty and drank of it freely. I took two long draughts, and in half an hour was ready for more, and the poor mules had to be kept away by a guard. Some of these "thunder-storm rivers" rise so rapidly as to surround camps in less time than it takes to remove the provisions and other property, and I was told by some of the parties we met near the Gila, that on the El Paso route a party of General Worth's train lost their baggage by just such floods as we have to look out for.
Leaving this water-hole Boggs and myself walked to the peaks of one of the conical mountains of iron-stone, which here surround the plains; it was bluish-black with heavy dashes of purple intermingled for yards at a time, and looked like huge masses of earth that had been frozen, and were just in the crumbling state which precedes thawing. The view from the top was very grand, but all the scenes we had as we ascended from the plain gave pleasure. At first the broad prairie stretched west as far as the line of horizon; a few feet higher on the mountain enabled us to see the conical heads of others, and as we went higher and higher, we saw hill after hill, and mountain capped mountain, and the straight line which formed our horizon at first was lost in the irregular one of peaks of the wildest character and desolation. As we looked north round the entire country to north again, our eyes surveyed miles of apparently waste barren country, without wood, water or animated nature; one vulture alone sailed magnificently round us, surveying us from a closer circle at every whirl he made, his wings rustling as they glided past only a few feet from us. We admired his grace and envied his power, as we watched the sun go down, and fancied that just beyond the hills we saw were the waves of the Gulf of California. We descended to camp in the evening shadows and made our meal of bread and water with good appetites.
September 22d. I remained behind this morning with one of the men to hunt up some missing mules, so that the main party were some ten miles on the road ahead, but we overtook them at nine that night, and camped down without water or grass.
September 23d. Daylight saw us on the march again, and at twelve we found good grass, and halted for four hours, leaving at sundown for the Gila, expecting to reach it by daylight, but our mules were so hungry we could not drive them, and we encamped again without grass or water.
September 24th. At daylight again we were off, and one o'clock brought us to the long-looked-for Pimos Valley, with a rancho of one small house and a few broken-down mules. However, here we found water and a camp ground.
September 25th. Off again as soon as light with ourselves and animals somewhat refreshed by a long day's rest, plenty of corn, water and melons. Before our arrival here we had looked forward with pleasure to meeting others from home travelling our road, hoping to have news of comparatively late date, as this valley is a sort of rendezvous; but we have no more than we bring, we pass and re-pass companies daily, but since we find they have no news for us we go on with a single salutation.
As we came unexpectedly upon the wagon trail of the Gila route, an exclamation of joy came from almost every one, and tired as we were we journeyed until night in better spirits than we had been in for some time. The old chief of the Pimos came out to see us, and presented letters from Col. Cooke,[26] Col. Graham[27] and others, recommending him as honest, kind and solicitous for the welfare of Americans. I gave him three broken-down mules, and some other trifles for which he seemed grateful, but the extravagance of the Americans who have passed through has made it difficult for anyone to make reasonable bargains with either Pimos or Maricopas;[28] we had to give him a flannel shirt for a little over a peck of corn, wheat or beans. Many who came to trade had already made up their minds only to do so for some particular article, and in those cases it was not of the least avail to offer anything else. Sometimes they would refuse a flannel shirt in exchange for a couple of melons, but by tearing the shirt into strips and sewing these together, two or three times the value of the garment may be obtained, as they are delighted with anything resembling a sash, or bands for the head. Jewelry had no value to them, fancy beads were worthless, stone beads however they traded for eagerly, but we had none. Red blankets and blue, red flannel torn into long strips they preferred to anything, though many of the women chose white shirts; like all squaws they are very good natured. They are dressed in a cotton, home-made sarape, if [wearing] a garment fastened round the waist, and leaving the whole upper part of the body exposed, can be called dressed; their hair is cut square across the forehead, and worn not very long.
We found some weed in the grass here very injurious to our horses and mules. I lost my mare here. Weed lost his, and nearly all ran down, so as to be scarcely fit for use. Having now four men without mounts, I was persuaded to buy a wagon and harness complete, as I could get one for twenty-five dollars.
The river bottom here forms a great flat, which was, I think, once irrigated; at all events, it is cut up by a great many lagoons, nearly all muddy, but the water is not so salt in those that do not run, as to be undrinkable; in some places the water is so impregnated that as the water evaporates, a cake of pure salt is deposited, and the Indians on being asked for it, brought us five or six pounds in a lump. It was pure white when broken, but on the surface a sediment covered it. The country is nearly flat, and on the light sandy soil there is found grass, in some places very sparse and thin, and in the others pretty good. No water but rain water, and that at long distances apart. We find on the few hills the columnar cactus in great abundance, a great many of the same class of plants as on the Rio Grande, and convolvuli without number; they seem to live on dew. The soil of the hills is rocky, and indeed, sometimes for miles, chalky limestone takes the place of rock entirely.
October 1st. The first rise as we enter the desert gives the view of the plain for a great distance, and it seems one vast waste of twenty by a hundred miles.