Harper's Round Table, March 31, 1896

It was quite dark. The sun was not high enough as yet to shine down into the long narrow crevice up which Professor Jensen and the two boys were clambering.

A short distance ahead of them stalked John Coleman, the guide. He was a tall thin man with drooping shoulders, and he carried the Professor's camera, a heavy pick, and a long-handled shovel as if they were no more than feather-weights.

Suddenly the little party turned around a steep wall of shale, and the main cañon was in sight. The Professor paused and mopped his forehead. "There, boys, there it is," he said, pointing with his finger.

Half-way up the steep side of the cliff, in what looked to be a long narrow cleft in the steep descent of rock, stood the home and fortress of the ancient cliff-dwellers, which the boys had come so many miles to see.

From where they were they could make out nothing but some square windows in what appeared to be a line of half-crumbling adobe houses that nearly filled the huge shadowy recess.

George Lyman and Carter Randall were two boys of sixteen who had left home some two months before under the charge of young Professor Jensen. They were making a trip through Arizona and New Mexico in the search of fossils and traces of the prehistoric inhabitants. "Bones and battle-axes," George called them. Through their acquaintance with an army officer at one of the forts they had heard of the guide Coleman, who knew more about the habitations of the old cliff-dwellers than probably any man in the region, for he had been one of the first explorers up in the Glachens and the Black River country.

With this recommendation the Professor had engaged Coleman to guide his little party into the Black River cañon, and show them how to reach one or two of the more accessible fortresses that the strange, almost unknown people had built ages and ages ago.

When they had reached the bottom of the arroyo, and were following the shallow stream, John Coleman turned.

"Whar I'm goin' to take ye," he said, "lots of people have bin before. It's most cleaned out o' relics, I reckin; but thar, see thar!" He turned suddenly, and seized the Professor's arm. "Come here, a few rods further," he went on, pointing at the same time, as he waded up the stream to the opposite side of the cliff.

The village that the boys had first seen was nothing to that which now was plain in sight, under a great beetling brow of stone, that thrust out overhead a hundred feet or so into the cañon. It was fully one thousand feet from where they stood straight up to the ledge upon which this village stood. Sheer and straight it was, without a fissure or the chance for a foothold below, and the overhanging mass above marked it at once as inaccessible. The sides of the houses could be seen as they stood there almost intact, the ends of the roof-beams were plain in sight even to the naked eye, and through the field-glass a pile of pottery could be made out standing near the entrance to one of the larger dwellings.

The Professor gazed in astonishment. "It looks as if it were built yesterday," he said.

"How did they get up there?" inquired Carter, as he plashed up alongside.

"That's more than I can tell you," answered the Professor, slowly. "Major Evans told me of this village, but probably the old method of going there has been destroyed by time. In my opinion, no human foot has been there in the last thousand years or more."

"I'd like to see what it's like," said George, looking up, with his glass to his eye. "I'd like to get in there."

The Professor sighed. "Science would give a great deal to have you," he replied; "but come on; we must hurry to reach the small one over yonder." He pointed again to the ruins on the other side.

By careful climbing and careful stretching from point to point they at last reached the smaller ledge and entered through the narrow opening cut in the solid rock. It was as Coleman had reported; there was evidence of many visitations before them. Under the thick stifling dust they found nothing but some crumbling brick-work, bits of rough earthen jars, and a sandal made of straw.

Professor Jensen was outspoken in his disappointment. It was evident that the destroying power of nature besides that of man had been at work long, long before him.

The village, unlike the one across the chasm, was in a very exposed position, and rain and water had helped to work destruction; but over there in front of them and some hundred feet above their heads was the tantalizing fortress which they could not reach. What treasures it possessed! The Professor sighed; a long trip of three or four days had been next to fruitless.

Suddenly John Coleman turned and spoke to the Professor quite excitedly. "Capt'in," he said, "take that big glass of yourn and look just inside that window whar that rafter hangs." He pointed with his lean finger at the opposite cliff, and his hand was trembling.

The Professor looked through his glass.

"See anything?" asked the guide, his voice almost quivering.

"Yes," said the Professor, "I see something red."

Coleman drew a long breath. "It's thar yet," he whispered. He turned and looked at the group gathered about him as if frightened; then he spoke, still beneath his breath, "I put it thar."

The Professor started. "You! you!" he began, but the guide interrupted him.

"Yes, fifteen year ago las' spring I've bin thar" (with a wave of his arm), "and I've seen things."

The boys stepped forward, and Professor Jensen lowered his glass and glanced at the guide from head to foot.

"Tell us," he said, quietly, raising his hand to keep the boys from speaking.

The tall man was fairly trembling now. "You won't believe me," he faltered; "they never will."

Carter was about to say something, but the elder man suppressed him again with a gesture. "We will believe you, John," he said, as quietly as he had spoken before; "but how in the world, and where did you start from?"

Coleman sat down and clasped his palms together, and the boys and the Professor seated themselves quietly also, without a word.

"I'll tell you the hull story," began the guide, looking appealingly from one to the other. "But I 'ain't told it for nigh eight years now."

"Go on," said Professor Jensen; "we will listen carefully; it may be most important, John. Don't fear to tell it."

"Well," said the guide, beginning slowly, "you know I have lived and hunted in this kintry for more'n eighteen years. I come here from the East, an' I wa'n't older than either of you two boys." The three listeners nodded.

"One day I was huntin' with a party up this here cañon when we discovered this town, whar we be now, and t'other one 'cross the way. We reached this one easy 'nough, as we done to-day, but some one had been 'fore us even then--I suspect as they was Injuns," he added, parenthetically. "There was three others with me then, no good tellin' their names, 'cause they're all dead, but thet comes in the story. We was all young an' ventresome, and I sez to Bill Combs-- He was drowned rite down thar!"

The guide broke off so suddenly that it was startling. He pointed with his finger down to where the little stream was slowly running through its sandy bed.

"I've seen it sech," said he, "an' I've seen it from bank to bank, a roarin' tearin' river--'tis now at some seasons o' the year."

For a moment the Professor was afraid that the thread of the story was going to be lost, but Coleman regained himself in half a moment.

"I was talkin' o' Bill Combs," he said. "We were standin' here whar we be now, an' I sez, lookin' over thar, 'Bill, if you lo'ered a man over the top of that ere cañon he could git opposite them houses and have a good squint at 'em.'

"'I reckin no man dares try it,' Bill sez to me.

"'I can,' sez I."