After a time the visitors sighed, and, having broken the spell of awe, the scouts found their tongues.
“Gracious! what a jumping-off place,” exclaimed Julie, as she gazed at the two fearful precipices, the sides all pierced with windows and arched doorways and projecting balconies.
These dwellings, tier upon tier of them, were reached by ladders, and some by steps cut in the stone. It was once a populous city with the main street over twelve miles long.
“Think of all the citizens living in this queer place!” exclaimed the Captain. “Where do you suppose they went after they left here.”
“That’s the question every one asks, and no one has yet answered,” returned Mr. Gilroy. “But come, let’s go down and visit.”
The scouts visited the sacred chamber where the ancients worshiped the god of fire and the serpent-guardian of the water-springs. They took snapshots of the stone circle which the great colony used for its dances. They went in cave after cave, each one having a new interest to visitors, and coming out again, wondered at the marvelous view forever spread out before the front doors of these cliff dwellers of ancient days.
That day the scouts found several flowers which have not been classified by botanists. They saw the blood-red cactus that grows high up on the black rocks; the beautiful mountain pink; the dwarfed field daisy; and others without names, although they were gathered to be pressed for use in the girls’ books. It was late that night when the party motored into Santa Fé, but it was a satisfied party.
A week of visiting such marvelous places as these girls never dreamed were on earth passed quickly. They had gone to different prominent pueblos within easy motoring distance of Santa Fé; they had visited the Tiffany Turquoise Mine; they wondered at the old Bonanza; they hunted for bits of gold in the Ortiz placers; and they collected specimen of flowers, minerals, insects and other curios for their scout files at home. Then they took two days to go to the ancient Aztec City, to Chaco Cañon, and other pueblo ruins in San Juan county.
“The last trip of all, I have kept as the best,” remarked Mr. Gilroy at the end of the week’s rental of the automobiles. “But we will leave Santa Fé behind us when we start out on this jaunt to the west: I am speaking of a visit to the Enchanted Mesa, to Laguna and Acoma.”
“It’s going to be no joke to reach Acoma, Gilly,” said Mr. Vernon, “but we have plenty of time, and that is one asset in seeing these strange places.”