Two Trappers.
The gorge in which the young Cheyenne chief and his followers had made their night bivouac, was only one of a series of similar glens, that with short intervals between, notched the foot of the sierra (Note 1) where it edged upon the open prairie. It was not the main chain of the Rocky Mountains, but a spur running out into the plain.
About a mile farther along, and nearer to Bijou Creek, was another gorge, not very dissimilar in size, but somewhat so in character. Instead of an embouchure open to the plain, it was shut in on all sides by bluffs, rising abruptly above it to the height of over a hundred feet.
There was an outlet nevertheless; where a tiny spring-branch, gurgling forth from the bottom of the encircling cliffs, passed out into the open country, after making its way through a cañon (pronounced Kenyon) which it had no doubt cut for itself in the course of countless ages.
But as it needed a cleft no wider than might admit the body of a man, not much wider was it, from top to bottom of the cliff. A traveller might have passed within a hundred yards of its outer face, looking towards the plain, without perceiving this break in the precipice or taking it only for a fissure in the façade of the rocks.
The enclosed space inside, in one other respect differed from the glen that had been occupied by the Indians. Its bottom was thickly timbered with cotton-wood and other trees; while along the ledges of the cliff, and wherever a crevice afforded root-accommodation grew piñons (Note 2) and the creeping cliff cedar.
It seemed a favourite haunt of the owls and bats, but only at night. By day the birds appeared to have full possession of it—filling it with their sweet music, and fearing only the rapacious white-headed eagle, that occasionally “whetted his saw” (Note 3) or laughed his maniac laugh, perched on the cliffs overhead.
Only from the heights above could a view be had of the “hole” (Note 4); and to get this required climbing, beyond anything curiosity was likely to encourage. No prairie traveller would have taken the trouble, unless he chanced to be a German geologist, hammer in hand, or a botanist of the same inquiring race, in search of rare plants. Led by the love of science, these simple but ardent explorers go everywhere, into every cranny and corner of the earth—even the “holes” of the Rocky Mountains, where often have their dead bodies been found, with heads stripped of their skins by the knife of the indiscriminating savage.
Ascending the cliff from the outside, and looking down into the gorge described, you might fancy that no human being had ever entered it. To do so would cost some exertion. And danger, too: for there was a hundred feet of precipitous rock to be scaled downward, at the risk of getting a broken neck.
Some one had taken this risk, however; for on the same night in which the Cheyenne chief had sallied out to attack the emigrant camp, only a little later and nearer morning, a fire might have been seen glimmering among the cotton-wood trees that covered the bottom of the glen.