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Sunset Over the Lariat Trail, 
Denver Mountain Parks. 


Legendary and Historical Tales and Events 

Gleaned Along Moccasin-Winged Trails 

of Aztec and Indian and the Blazed 

Trails of Explorer and Pioneer 

Settler in Enchanting 



Warren E. Boyer 




Copyright, IQ23, by 
Warren E. Boycr in the United States of America 

All rights reserved 

First Published, December, 1923 

Second Edition 

The W. H. Kistler Stationery Company 

Denver, Colorado 


who is 

related to the family of 

George Washington 


Princely pomp of tradition and the glamour of 
chivalry, despite common belief, are not confined to 
the European side of the Atlantic. There is the Old 
West, with its crumbling adobe castles and deserted 
eagle-like nests of the primordial Cliff Dweller. The 
Rocky Mountains are rich in colorful romances of the 
primitive threshold of a forgotten Yesterday and the 
vanishing trail of a fleeting Today. Here Toltec, Aztec, 
Spaniard, Frenchman, Indian and Pioneer American 
pass in historic review. 

Colorado's romantic career in the United States 
of America is measured through the ages by its inclu- 
sion at various times in a score of countries and other 
geographical divisions, and because Coronado and his 
Spanish conquistadores set foot upon Colorado soil 
within fifty years after Columbus discovered America 
and nearly a century before the landing of the Pilgrim 
Fathers at Plymouth. 

Mythology and history combine to make interest- 
ing legendary narratives that appeal to the fancy of 
young and old. They help the memory by association 
to retain facts, or alluring, vivify a latent imagination. 
As a greater incentive thereunto, this volume is re- 
spectfully presented — dedicated to the caus^ of the 
blazed trail rapidly disappearing. If, by perusal, the 
reader's vision is quickened to a vivid appreciation of 
his own country, the object of this work will be attained. 

Grateful acknowledgment is expressed for the valuable 

suggestions of 

Edward W. Milligan, Harry N. Burhans 


The Colorado State Historical and Natural History Society 

Cover design and illustrations by 

James J. Lynch 

Photographs by the courtesy of the 

Denver Tourist Bureau 

Denver Municipal Facts 

Denver & Rio Grande Western Railroad 

Henry R. Hay and Colorado Highways 

Engraving by 

Colorado Engraving Company 



An Aztec Princess of Pikes Peak 13 

Smoke of Undying Embers 18 

Arapahoe Spirit Glacier 25 

A Holy Cross Pilgrimage 32 

The Triumph of Trail Ridge 40 

Lupton's Love Fort 47 

The Gift of the Rainbow 53 

Shavano's Snow Angel 59 

Colorow's Leap 69 

Vanishing Trails 75 

Explanatory Notes 8? 



Sunset Over the Denver Mountain Parks Frontispiece 

Pikes Peak and Garden of the Gods 13 

Cliff Palace Ruin in the Mesa Verde 18 

Arapahoe Glacier 25 

Mount of the Holy Cross 32 

Longs Peak and Chasm Lake 40 

The Angel of Shavano 59 

Colorow Point and Clear Creek 69 

Overland Prairie Schooner 7$ 




































T was toward the close of the twelfth century. 
The Aztecs and the Tezcucans, kindred tribes, 
were making their migration from the north 
and were camped in the shadow of what is 
now Pikes Peak, in Colorado. They were inter- 
tribal races of the Toltecs, who had preceded them 
into Hue Hue Tlapallan, as the Pikes Peak region 
was called. The Toltec migration at the close of the 
seventh century had continued southward into Ana- 
huac, the land of Mexico. 

The Aztecs and Tezcucans, filled with tribal bit- 
terness and jealousy, nevertheless imitated their pred- 
ecessors and sojourned in worshipful reverence in the 
protecting influences and superstitious fears of the great 
throne-peak. This snow-capped sentinel, according 
to their traditions, held the sacred birthplace of Huit- 
zilopotchli, their great war-god much like Mars, favor- 
ite deity of the Romans. 

Superstitions advanced by the priests brought hu- 
man sacrifices at every unusual omen. Although show- 
ing traces of the Toltec tincture of civilization, the 
warlike spirit, brought on perhaps by the necessity for 
self-preservation, was further fostered by *he belief that 
special recognition was given in their mysterious here- 
after to the heroes who fell in battle or gave their lives 
as a sacrifice to appease the wrath of the gods. 

It was in this environment with its narrowed out- 
look upon life that Princess-in-the-Sun, favorite 



daughter of the Aztecs, awoke one summer morning 
She shuddered as she tried to brush the snow from hei 
shoulders. But it wasn't snow at all. Marvel of 
marvels! Her once flowing black hair had turned 
silver-grey overnight. 

The Princess was held captive in the camp of the 
Tezcucans as a result of a quarrel between the hunting 
parties from the rival camps, and she fully realized her 
impending fate. In the eyes of her people it would be 
a triumphant passage into the presence of the Sun, dur- 
ing its bright progress through the heavens. There 
would be festive singing and dancing to speed her on 
her way. Circumstances weighed against her. Huit- 
zilopotchli was calling. She had been rightly named. 

But the priests of the Tezcucans were perplexed. 
The gods had touched the dusky hair of their prisoner 
and changed it to a veil of snow, reminding them of 
the snow-veiled crest of the great throne-peak. What 
did the gods desire? They feared to harm her, lest 
vengeance be visited upon them. So they released 
Princess-in-the-Sun, who started for the skin-covered 
shelters of her tribe. Now the hair of Princess-in-the- 
Sun was unusual in that it almost touched the ground 
and was silky instead of coarse. Caught in the light 
breeze, it formed a sort of halo, at first startling the 
crouching Ute Indian known as Little-Bull. But the 
Ute warrior longingly followed her as his encroaching 
tribesmen, in their war feathers and paint, stealthily 
crept up on the worshippers of Huitzilopotchli. 

Here, then, seemed to be a world cradle for the 
Indians as well as for the contemporaries of a race 
which had shown marvelous skill in Anahuac, in Mexi- 
co. Bubbling springs in the shadow of the peak were 
the recognized manifestations of protection from Mani- 


tou, the Red Man's Great Father. They looked upon 
the spirit that dwelt here as the great protector of their 

Now the Utes had come from out the land of 
Utah. They, too, claimed to be wards of the Great 
Spirit of the towering peak. The bubbling waters of 
their Great Manitou contained the gifts of trinkets and 
gems. They regarded the Aztecs and Tezcucans as 

They disregarded the fact that five hundred years 
previous the Toltecs had lived amid the flashing light- 
ning and deafening thunders when the peak was sur- 
rounded by storm clouds; that here was advanced a 
barbaric culture preserved in Mexican myths and leg- 
ends. Hue Hue Tlapallan, signifying, in Toltec tra- 
dition, something like "Colorful Red Land," through 
translation into our language becomes "Colorado." 

Was not Aztlan, the ancient home of the Aztecs, 
far to the north of Mexico? Two streams of immigra- 
tion, one on each side of the Rocky Mountains, flowed 
presumably from the Pacific Northwest into Mexico. 
The Aztecs, even after they had been driven step by 
step into Anahuac, remembered Pikes Peak reverently 
as the sacred birthplace of their great god, Huitzilo- 
potchli. So the predecessors of the Aztecs regularly 
sent embassies back to Hue Hue Tlapallan, laden with 
jewels and other religious offerings. These were placed 
in the "Seven Caves of Aztlan" referred to in Mexican 
history and supposedly in the region of Manitou 
Springs, including a celebrated cave of mysterious 
winds in what is Williams Canyon. 

It so happened that this was the chosen year for 
the pilgrimage of the embassies from the Toltec de- 
scendants in Mexico. Among them was one who found 


a responsive yearning in the breast of Princess-in-the- 
Sun. And now she herself must release her spirit from 
its bonds of clay and send it to mingle with the Great 
Spirit of the Sun God. She sighed at the thought of 
parting from the Worshipful Toltec and wondered if 
he, more advanced in cultural arts than her people, 
could save her from the fate to which she had been 

Off there toward the plains, where Colorado 
Springs has since been settled, tiny curls of smoke rose. 
It was a ruse of the Utes to get the Aztecs out of the 
timbered foothills. But it had failed, and now the 
Indians were closing in on those who sought to worship 
at the same shrine with them. As they did so the Tez- 
cucans joined the Aztecs and retreated with them over 
rocky heights in order to get to the Aztec shelters on 
the south side of a nearby mountain stream, before the 
Utes arrived. 

Into what is now South Cheyenne Canyon went 
the Princess, trailed by the admiring Little-Bull. The 
other Utes followed, gaining confidence when they saw 
that no harm befell their self-acclaimed leader. 
Princess-in-the-Sun was in the wooded and rock-walled 
canyons of her people. She climbed the steep gorge on 
the north side of the stream, and when within sound of 
the tumbling waters of a series of seven cataracts, she 
hid from Little-Bull in the hollow end of a fallen tret. 
The Utes followed Little-Bull, then pushed onward 
and drew taut their bows when they saw the tribesmen 
of Princess-in-the-Sun on the opposite side of the 
splashing waters armed with spears, bone knives and 
stone hammers. 

And while they fought an indecisive battle Prin- 
cess-in-the-Sun prepared for the traditional and inevit- 


able self-sacrifice that she knew her people would ex- 
pect of her. Eluding Little-Bull, who searched in 
vain, she cautiously made her way to the first of the 
crystal waterfalls. Deserted, but realizing the presence 
of the sunbeams ready to carry her upward as the 
setting Sun shot its shafts higher and higher on the sheer 
canyon walls, she leaped. 

Chief Wa-Wa-Ho, her father, recognizing her 
features but filled with superstition, got a glimpse of 
her as she jumped. So did Little-Bull, who shrieked 
and hurried away to join his tribesmen. 

Princess-in-the-Sun dropped perhaps thirty feet 
in the spray of the falls — and into the arms of the 
Worshipful Toltec. Having spied her mantle of sil- 
ver-grey hair he realized that self-sacrifice must be the 
end of Princess-in-the-Sun. So he waited in the deep 
pool at the foot of the falls. The force of the maiden's 
plunge momentarily sent both to the bottom, but he 
carried the unconscious form to a small cave nearby. 
There they hid until nightfall when they began the 
long journey, in secret, to Mexico, after the Worship- 
ful Toltec had called upon the gods to witness the tak- 
ing of Princess-in-the-Sun as his wife. 

The battle ended when Little-Bull wildly sought 
to explain and the bewildered Utes withdrew. Su- 
perstition made it easy to understand the departure of 
the Princess, presumably for the realms of the Sun. 
The fatal end of the conflict explained the absence of 
the Worshipful Toltec. But the Aztecs thereafter 
referred to the cascading falls as Princess-in-the-Sun' s 
flowing tresses, once black, but silvered through the 
magic of the mountain moonlight. 


ERROR gripped the Indian settlement of Go- 
Two- Ways, on the banks of the Rio la Plata, 
in what is now southwestern Colorado. Now 
Go-Two-Ways was so named because here 
the trail divided, one path leading to the Cliff Dwell- 
ings in what is now Mesa Verde National Park, and 
the other to the Pueblo Bonito, in New Mexico. Ruins 
of all three places still remain. 

It was a thousand years ago, about the time when 
the Crusaders in far-away Europe were being elevated 
to knighthood for valorous deeds in their marches for 
the cause of Christianity. The beating of a crude, skin- 
covered tom-tom at daybreak hurriedly summoned the 
tribesmen of the Fire Clan to the underground council 
chamber. This weird summons was an alarm of 
spiritual distress, for the ceremonial Fire of Life in the 
Sacred Kiva of the Fire Clan had gone out. During 
the night lightning had shattered the underground room 
and the circular fire-pit was drenched by rain. 

When Buffalo-Horn, a commanding youth, saw 
the devastation at dawn he realized that to save his 
tribesmen he must sacrifice his own life. He was the 
Younger Fire-god of the Fire Cult, and as such pre- 
sided with the Elder Fire-god over the seasoned, slow- 
burning juniper wood fire. Overwhelmed by the mag- 
nitude of the calamity that had befallen his people, he 
sped from one to another of the semi-terraced houses 
of stone and timber, warning the women to extinguish 
all the fires. Eating must cease, for life was cold. Ac- 



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cording to their religion, fire once used for secular pur- 
poses could never serve to kindle a flame in the Sacred 
Kiva. This fire must originate through the ceremon- 
ies of the Fire-gods, or be taken from another shrine. 

And after he had made the rounds, he again 
walked meditating toward the abode of Chief Bow-in- 
the-Neck, unable to comprehend the work of the Great 
Spirit. Why should his life be sacrificed in such a 
needless manner? There was an undefined conflict 
within him between the physical and spiritual forces. 
Would he dare carry out the plan that had suggested 
itself to him? 

Show-Pretty-Feathers, comely daughter of Chief 
Bow-in-the-Neck, stood in the doorway of her father's 
house. Buffalo-Horn paused, emitted a guttural sound, 
and passed on. The primitive call of love gladdened 
her heart, but it was only momentary, for she read in 
his eyes that the fires of admiration were burning low. 

Indian summer was nearly gone. There had been 
a bountiful harvest of maize, and the feasts of thanks- 
giving had lasted many days. Then came the Cere- 
monial of New Fire. A fresh blaze was kindled in 
the Sacred Kiva that should serve for the coming year, 
and fresh coals were carried from this into each house. 

Now Buffalo-Horn had a rival in the treacherous 
Sly- Wolf, one of the youngest tribesmen sitting with 
him in the council on this morning. Admiration for 
the Indian maiden was still burning in his eyes, for he, 
too, loved Show-Pretty-Feathers. The council held 
a brief session in which Sly- Wolf accused Buffalo- 
Horn of practicing witchcraft and through it destroy- 
ing the Sacred Kiva of the Fire Clan. He further 


declared that as a result of the witchery the Great 
Spirit had taken away the Fire of Life, and the only 
method of restoring it would be through the sacrifice 
of Buffalo-Horn, possessed by the Evil One. 

Chief Bow-in-the-Neck was very fond of both 
Buffalo-Horn and Sly- Wolf, for they came from 
noble clans in his tribe of a thousand warriors. Know- 
ing that the youths were rivals in love, he associated 
them in all things. Ordinarily supremacy in battle or 
friendly contest between them, rather than purely ele- 
mental preferences, would have decided which should 
marry Show-Pretty-Feathers. 

Buffalo-Horn was so astounded at the false ac- 
cusation that he did not defend himself. He sat silent 
while instructions were given by Chief Bow-in-the- 
Neck that at the rising of the sun Buffalo-Horn should 
be taken to the lowest and darkest room in the settle- 
ment, stripped, and cedar stakes driven through his 
abdomen into the mud floor. The hatchway of the 
room should then be sealed, so that his evil spirit could 
never emerge to the outside world and again trouble 

Sly- Wolf was detailed to watch over Buffalo- 
Horn until the following morning, when Buffalo-Horn, 
by the sacrifice of his life, would release his tribesmen 
from threatened extinction. Meantime prayer and fast- 
ing must prevail. Buffalo-Horn stoically listened to the 
fatal sentence imposed by Chief Bow-in-the-Neck, then 
folding his arms, looked skyward to Those-Above 
until the council disbanded. 

Hurrying to the household of his mother, he ten- 
derly embraced her, professing his innocence; then re- 


tiring to a dark corner he covered his head and medi- 
tated. Early in the afternoon, assisted by his mother, 
he outwitted Sly-Wolf and stole away, dressed in his 
full regalia and wearing a single red feather in his 
straight, black hair. Reaching the end of the pueblo, 
he darted into the heavy spruce and was gone. Two 
hours later Sly-Wolf, learning of the secret departure, 
followed Buffalo-Horn toward the land of the Cliff 
Dwellers — Mesa Verde, the "Green Tableland," as 
it became known centuries later through the Spaniards. 

The trail was a hard one, pursued only under dif- 
ficulties through the arroyos and canyons of the Mancos 
River country. The Indian's sandaled feet were noise- 
less in flight except for the crunching of sticks and 
cones. He chided a saucy chipmunk for being curious, 
and at dusk besought a cooing turtle-dove to carry his 
praises to Show-Pretty-Feathers. 

Now the Cliff Dwellers in the high, sandstone 
ledges were none too friendly with Chief Bow-in-the- 
Neck and his people, who held for the time the coveted 
tribal supremacy. Fortunately for Buffalo-Horn, there 
was an important tribal dance that night at Cliff Palace, 
a short distance from the House of the New Fire, for 
he had come to get coals from the Sacred Shrine of 
the kindred tribe. Attendants of the New Fire House 
had temporarily deserted their duties to take part in 
the religious ceremony. 

New Fire House was dedicated to fire worship, 
which ranked favorably with their reverence of the sun. 
The rooms in this two-story cave structure were plaster- 
ed, red colorings being used to adorn the walls with 
symbolic figures, while zigzag markings denoted light- 
ning and its relation to the worship of fire. In the floor 


of this abode was a circular fire pit in which the Sacred 
Fire was kept slowly burning. 

Buffalo-Horn, creeping on hands and knees, 
silently made his way from the rocky bottom of the 
canyon upward over the steps worn in the rocks by the 
women in carrying water from the spring below. Tak- 
ing a small earthen jar from beneath his hide shirt, he 
stooped over the fire hole, breathed a few words softly, 
reverently brushed the flames with his palm and raised 
his cupped hand to his mouth, inhaling deeply, 
then swiftly forced some of the sacred coals into the 
receptacle and covered the embers with ashes. Securely 
concealing the jar within his blouse, he crept noiselessly 
from the place. 

Hearing a commotion down in the canyon, he fol- 
lowed the rock ridge until he came to a hidden passage- 
way, ordinarily guarded but now deserted, leading 
upward through a narrow cleft in the rim-rock. These 
protruding ledges formed the overhanging shelf-like 
roof of the cliff cave which contained the House of the 
New Fire. 

Once on top of the tableland, Buffalo-Horn 
paused a moment to rest and to listen to the singing 
dancers celebrating ceremonial rites in Cliff Palace. 
He felt for the jar of wood coals. As he did so, Sly- 
Wolf leaped upon him from behind and bore him to 
the ground. Over and over they rolled, Buffalo-Horn 
several times losing his advantage in the terrible struggle 
while protecting the bit of hidden pottery. He was on 
his back, one leg dangling in space and the other press- 
ing against the rocky ledge. Desperately he tried to 
save himself from plunging hundreds of feet into the 


canyon as his aggressor, trying to free himself, sought 
to push Buffalo-Horn over the edge of the cliff. 

He felt a hot, stinging sensation, as if the fatal 
moment had come and his abdomen were being pierced 
by stakes. Confusion, momentarily his master, was 
dispelled as he realized that live coals were burning his 
flesh. He made a last, frantic effort to save himself 
from the black depths, and Love superseded Hate as 
he recalled the teachings of his forefathers, that New 
Fire — meaning continued health and prosperity for the 
tribe — could never be rekindled at the expense of 
another life willfully destroyed. It was enough. Just 
as he was losing his hold on the rocky shelf, his body 
suspended between the secure tableland and the yawn- 
ing abyss, he cried: "Curse of New Fire on Innocent 
Blood!" Miraculously he was pulled back to safety. 

Sly- Wolf, awe-struck but filled with strange un- 
derstanding, stood there, helpless to continue the strug- 
gle. The Great Silence had threatened to engulf him, 
for he realized that New Fire would consume him if he 
took a life in this manner. His lips were forever sealed 
against repeating what had occurred when Buffalo- 
Horn held high the little jar of pottery with the smol- 
dering embers. A great truth dawned upon Sly- Wolf : 
Without honor there could be no seat with Those- 
Above. Sly- Wolf disappeared into the night. 

Several times on the return journey Buffalo-Horn 
had to stop and blow the tiny flame and add twigs to 
keep the Sacred Fire burning. With the first reddish 
glow on the eastern horizon preceding the actual rising 
of the sun, a curl of smoke was seen ascending from 
the fire pit in the ruins of the Sacred Kiva of the Fire 
Clan. There need be no sacrifice. Show-Pretty- 


Feathers ran to the outstretched arms of her chosen 
lover. Chief Bow-in-the-Neck looked on approvingly, 
for if he suspected anything his stolid countenance did 
not betray him. 

The visitation of lightning upon Go-Two- Ways 
was now regarded by the tribe generally as a mark of 
esteem coming from the Great Spirit. Unaware of the 
rekindling of the fire in the early dawn, they elevated 
Buffalo-Horn to the seats of the Mighty Council and 
renamed him Smoke-of -Undying-Embers. 

• ^ 

Great-Spirit Lake Cavern at 
Arapahoe Glacier. 



RIGHT-STAR, Arapahoe Indian maiden, 
neared the edge of the great ice-field, high in 
the Colorado Rockies. It was early fall. A 
September moon outlined the maiden against 
the expanse of packed snow turned ice, now known as 
Arapahoe Glacier, twenty-five miles west of Boulder. 
The reflection of the moon on the milky-white surface 
almost gave the brightness of day. 

Tradition had brought her to the White Tomb, 
which, according to Arapahoe wise men, held one of 
the tribal wish-charms. This lost treasure, possession 
of which would bring heart's desire, was a small round 
piece of the fossilized tusk of a prehistoric monster, 
roughly polished and containing carvings of tribal gods. 
Its loss had deprived the tribe of many unusual bless- 
ings for nearly one hundred fifty years. One genera- 
tion had passed, and another was fast closing; Indians 
ordinarily enjoying long life in the open. 

Arapahoe warriors, including Blue-Cloud, tribal 
warrior-in-chief and father of Bright-Star, generally 
disregarded the talk of the soothsayer, that the small 
tusk-end bearing peculiar Indian designs would again 
be recovered. Bright-Star still trusted in its power and 
had pinned her faith to its possession. This was the 
third time within a week that she had returned in the 
hope of realizing her desire. 

Should she not get possession of the wish-charm 
this night before the moon reached its zenith, then all 
would be lost. In the witching hour her father's life 



would be taken as punishment for his refusal to com- 
bat the Utes assembling across the Continental Divide 
in the Grand Lake country. For the Utes likewise 
were intent upon capturing the coveted wish-charm. 
Their councils also rang with the account of the strug- 
gle that led to the loss of the wish-stone by the rival 

The Utes feared the white tomb-like glacier after 
dusk because of the restless spirit of an imprisoned Ute 
hovering over it. So Bright-Star, desperate, chose the 
night without fear of molestation by the Utes. Now 
the hatred between the two tribes did not extend to 
Bright-Star in her affections. Not-Afraid, a Ute brave, 
had promised to catch a fleecy cloud some day and sail 
with her to the land of the stars. She adored him, and 
in their clandestine meetings he professed adoration 
for her. But now, when she needed him, he stayed 
away. She had not seen him since the last full moon. 
Had he, too, become afraid of the glacier? 

Pon-Pon, one of her tribesmen and rival for her 
hand, had incensed the Arapahoes against Blue- 
Cloud, who continued in his refusal to sacrifice any of 
the Arapahoes in prospect of recovering the wish- 
charm. Blue-Cloud, hating Pon-Pon, believed a still 
greater curse would descend upon them if they inter- 
fered with the possessions of the glacier. Did not the 
glacier, melting, supply water for his tribe as it formed 
what is now North Boulder Creek? Had not the chat- 
tering creek quenched his thirst time and again? De- 
spite his faith, Blue-Cloud was to be consumed by 
fire when the light of the moon, dipping into Boulder 
Canyon, creeping down its sheer walls, bathed in radi- 
ance a rocky pillar to which he had been securely bound 
at sunset. 


Tribal soothsayers in both camps had foretold 
that this was the accepted year for the recovery of the 
frozen body of the Ute having the coveted wish- 
charm. The story ran something like this 

Prior to 1400 A. D., fully one hundred years 
before Columbus landed on America's shores, a battle 
between the warring Utes and Arapahoes brought two 
of their number in fierce combat just above the great 
seam, or bergschrund, at the head of the glacier. The 
Arapahoe soothsayer, recognizing that the wish-stone 
for some reason refused to bring victory to his tribes- 
men, sought to escape. A Ute followed him. 

The Arapahoe soothsayer bravely started cross- 
wise over the glacier, his moccasined feet feeling their 
way over the treacherous ice. Progress was very slow 
and hazardous, just above the bergschrund, the great 
break where the ice is released at the outset of its jour- 
ney down the mountain side in a stubborn, frozen mass. 
The Ute unrelentingly pursued. They struggled. The 
Ute wrested from his adversary the necklace containing 
the magic wish-charm, and as he did so, he slipped and 
shot forward. In another moment the great major 
crevasse had swallowed him. A cry of anguish rose 
from the depths of the gash in the ice as the Ute dis- 

Between the narrowing walls of ice the Ute fell 
— thirty — forty — fifty — sixty feet. At that point his 
body on striking a projecting rock that had been caught 
in the snow pack, was deflected and hurled across the 
narrow gap onto a shelf-like hollow which the rock bad 
filled before the ice break occurred. 

Stunned by the fall, the Ute finally recovered 
consciousness. He Was cold, encased, as he Was, in 
ice. He tried to shriek but could not. Terror filled 


him. Cautiously he peered over the edge and looked 
down fully a hundred feet into the shadowy depths of 
the huge crevasse. Then he gazed upward and saw 
just a tiny patch of blue sky. He shouted, but help 
failed him. So he became numb and finally froze to 
death. Snows of winter sealed the sepulchre. Then, 
his body began another career, this time in death, of 
moving spirit-like down hill; carried by and becoming 
a part of the glacial stream, which flowed about twenty- 
five feet a year. 

By the following spring the story of the Arapa- 
hoe soothsayer had reached the camps of the Utes. 
Great rejoicing ensued. They, like the Arapahoes, 
realized however the futility of trying to cut away 
thousands of tons of milky-white ice to search for the 
charm-holding Ute. 

The glacier's movement, concerning which the 
Arapahoe wise men had knowledge, was studied and 
observations made and measurements taken from the 
major crevasse by means of long poles driven into the 
surface. The Indians generally attributed its progress 
more to the gods of rain and harvest than to the annual 
collection of snow, melting and freezing, that pressed 
unceasingly against the main mass of the glacier. 

So the years passed. Indian papooses grew up, 
married, and died as other papooses took their places. 
And all the time the Utes body reposed in an icy tomb 
which, at times, must have been shaken and even threat- 
ened with destruction. For the great frozen stream 
crunched boulders to powder in the path of its journey 
down the slopes of the Arapaho(e) peak- 
Yes, it was the appointed year, according to the 
predictions of the soothsayers. But summer was wan- 
ing, and interest lagged except for the occasional visits 


of the descendants of the hapless Ute. They were, 
in a sense, glorified at the distinction accorded their 
distinguished forebear, but did not relish the possibility 
of some day finding his shriveled body protruding from 
the end of the tapering glacier. And there was always 
the possibility that he had been ground to pieces upon 
the boulders under the mammoth ice-field. 

Bright-Star reached the haunting hollow, the roof 
of which was an overhanging ledge of ice. The 
cavern was about fifty feet in width, with a thirty or 
forty-foot opening to the roof, becoming smaller as it 
neared the sloping mountain. Ordinarily this ice 
grotto was inaccessible, for the reason that it was the 
basin of the deep blue lake at the end of the glacier. 
This year, however, had been unusually dry, the lake 
waters disappearing as fast as they could collect. 

Timidly, at first, then with determination, Bright- 
Star hacked the ice with a stone tomahawk. It had 
been an unusually warm day, and the dripping water 
from the cavern roof still formed a fascinating curtain 
that sparkled silver in the bright moonlight. She had 
noticed a discoloration in the ice at sunset the day be- 
fore. It was in the curved wall of the cavern, within 
reach, close to the outer edge. An exhausting but 
expectant hour passed, and finally a dull thud startled 
her. The tomahawk struck something other than ice. 
The frightened maiden, all but collapsing, lay back 
against an upstanding rock. 

But the long-sought charm, equivalent in mod- 
ern times to wealth, lay within her grasp. The hand 
containing it was now exposed. She shuddered as she 
touched the frozen fingers. Secure in his shrunken fist 
was the necklace bearing the magic treasure. Deter- 
minedly, she forced the stiffened joints apart. 


Clutching the strand of beads and jewels she 
hurriedly scaled the rocky incline from the lake bottom 
and, breathless, made a wish. She wished for one of 
the fleecy clouds in the heavens to carry her speedily 
down the canyon in time to save her father's life. And, 
behold ! Her wish was realized. 

At that moment a white charger came over the 
moraine with Not-Afraid astride its bare back pulling 
on an improvised bridle. Enthralled at the sight — 
for she had never seen a horse — the comforting words 
of Not-Afraid spurred her on. So she climbed up 
behind him on the broad back of the spirited stallion 
and sailed through the night. 

Somehow, the horse with several others had be- 
come detached from Coronado's expedition, which that 
summer had visited the plains to the east of the Rockies 
in search of the fabled City of Quivira. Not-Afraid 
had trailed the horse for nearly a month, after having 
been told in a nearby tribal camp of the mysterious 
white-winged beast. Marching Indians had brought 
word of how this unfamiliar spirit-god had been ridden 
by strange men clad in heavy armor. 

Instead of descending the winding canyon, Not- 
Afraid guided the charger to the canyon's brink, on the 
opposite side of which, down below, the dance of death 
had begun. The light of the moon slowly erased the 
shadows of the distant canyon wall. Its radiance 
bathed the dancers and Blue-Cloud. The brushwood 
at the feet of the warrior-in-chief was about to be set 
afire by brandishing torches. 

The girl emitted a succession of shrieks. Her 
cries rang through the canyon. The ceremonies were 
interrupted. Pon-Pon, among others looked upward, 
inwardly gloating over Bright-Star, whom he intended 


to claim without delay. They discerned the Indian 
maiden and a ghost-like object, for they likewise had 
never seen a horse. The maiden appealed to the lead- 
ers to come up and get the magic wish-charm. They 
released Blue-Cloud, unwilling to risk their own lives 
with the mysterious spirit robed in white. Pon-Pon 
foresaw defeat and crept away. 

Blue-Cloud received the charm from his 
daughter. He bade her a fond farewell, admonishing 
the Ute lover to be kind to his little Bright-Star. Mar- 
veling at the strange animal, and confused and weak- 
ened by the terrible ordeal, he hysterically related to 
his tribesmen how Bright-Star, alone, sailed away on 
a cloud-mist rising from the haunted glacier. 

But Bright-Star was not alone, for with her on the 
magic ride of her dreams was her lover, Not-Afraid, 
who carried her to his own people, the Utes, across the 
Continental Divide. The fleet-winged spirit-horse, 
brought under control by Not- Afraid, in the eyes of the 
Utes was a greater charm than the coveted amulet of 
the Arapahoes. The Utes regarded Not-Afraid as 
possessing unusual power coming from the Great Spirit. 
Granting his wish, they reversed the established order 
of the marriage custom of his living with the maiden's 
tribe. Thus Not-Afraid forestalled any humiliation 
which Bright-Star might have suffered at the hands of 
the Ute women, and at the same time made complete 
the restoration of Blue-Cloud in the tribe of the Arapa- 
hoes through the recovery of the wish-charm. 


POTTED-FEATHER, chief of the Chicka- 
saws, crouched in wonderment mixed with awe 
at the procession of fully five hundred helmet- 
ed Spaniards filing through dense woods in 
what is now the State of Mississippi. Equally great 
was his astonishment at sight of prancing horses, un- 
known to his people, and the ease with which they 
carried supplies and camp trappings. 

The Spaniards were traveling westward. It was 
toward the close of April, 1541. Little did Spotted- 
Feather know their mission, or care. Neither did their 
leader — Ferdinand de Soto — know, for that matter, 
that about a week later he would discover the Miss- 
issippi River. In fact, De Soto was in search of an 
elusive land of gold. He longed to outdo Cortez in 
Mexico. With De Soto was the flower of the Spanish 
and Portuguese nobility in suits of gorgeous armor. 

As De Soto was the first white man to look upon 
that mighty river, so Spotted-Feather, in amazement, 
was the first of his tribe to look upon a white man. His 
bow, spanned with an arrow, was relaxed as he gazed 
in searching wonder at what was transpiring. There 
were monks in sacerdotal robes, carrying images, and 
footmen armed with arquebuses, lances, swords and 

The line of weary soldiers passed. Some dis- 
tance behind was a Franciscan Friar, in his brown 
robes and carrying a standard upon which was superim- 
posed a brass cross. The frightened Spotted-Feather 


Mount of the Holy Cross, a Nation's Emblem 
of Christianity. 



deemed the Friar some strange god following the 
armed hosts to victory. 

How to take the stranger back to camp, alive, as 
captive and good luck omen confused Spotted-Feather. 
He had sunk to superstition's depths. But as he came 
from the thicket a strange thing occurred. One of the 
soldiers, known as Roderig, also in hiding, jumped out 
and blocked the Friar's path. 

Spotted-Feather could not understand by their 
conversation that Roderig threatened the unarmed 
Friar, but a brandishing sword, the like of which he 
had never seen, told as much. Thereupon, the Friar 
disrobed. Roderig removed his outer garments. The 
men were about the same stature. They exchanged 
clothes. The clanking sword, reluctantly accepted 
for the cross, did not impress the Friar as a means of 
overcoming his adversary. No, his way was along the 
paths of peace. An old grievance, because of a re- 
primand by the young Friar, given early in 1 539, just 
before leaving Cuba on this exploration, accounted for 
Roderig's action. 

"Now, curse you, shift for yourself!" were the 
parting words of Roderig. He raised the skirt of the 
robe and with the standard in the other hand, ran to 
catch up with the procession. As both had beards, 
due to lack of conveniences, the deception on Roderig's 
part was perfect, so far as appearance was concerned. 

Then Spotted-Feather confronted the perplexed 
Friar, now wearing a helmet and breast plate and 
carrying a shield. The Friar drew his sword, then 
quickly sheathed it again. Thereupon the Chickasaw, 
signalling, persuaded him to follow. They proceeded 
in a northwesterly direction. 


Now the Friar, divested of his priestly robes, was 
none the less forceful in the estimation of Spotted- 
Feather. In fact, the Chickasaw chief believed the 
Friar to be possessed of strange powers. So the tepees 
of his people were thrown open, and Spotted-Feather 
saw to it that he was cared for in one of the tents. His 
only daughter, Swallow- Wings, waited upon the 
strange medicine man. 

But she did not win favor in the eyes of the seri- 
ous-minded Friar. As the days passed, he was pre- 
sented by Spotted-Feather with a blanket of unusual 
texture containing many designs, and beaded, oak- 
tanned moccasins. The cleric threw the Indian blanket 
about his shoulders, and wore the moccasins; yet he 
was, withal, a Spaniard. But no great luck came to 
Spotted-Feather, such as he had anticipated from the 
wearing of the gaudy blanket by the Friar. 

In the meantime, on May 1, 1541, De Soto had 
looked upon the Mi-che-se-pe, Indian name for Miss- 
issippi, meaning "Father of Waters." Then death 
claimed the fearless leader, whose body, weighted with 
sand bags, was lowered to a watery grave. 

Discouraged and emaciated, the greatly reduced 
forces, leaderless, decided to return — all, except Luis 
Moscosco de Alvarado, a lieutenant under De Soto. 
He persuaded a handful to continue westward. Rod- 
erig, in the guise of, the Friar, having feigned mental 
aberration and succeeded in the deception, was afraid 
to return. So he cast his lot with Moscosco de Alvar- 
ado, while all the other monks, with one exception re- 
mained with De Soto's band. Felling trees, Moscosco 
de Alvarado's men fashioned boats that carried them 
down the Mississippi. Indians helped them land at 


the western shore, near where the Arkansas River 
empties into the Mississippi, in what is now Arkansas. 

Spotted-Feather all this time had dispatched a 
runner at intervals to the river. After the last visit the 
Friar managed to secretly question the runner, by signs 
and markings on the ground. He gathered, in a crude 
fashion, that De Soto's band had separated, some re- 
turning the way they had come, others going down the 

Days dragged by. Summer had come. The Friar, 
doubtful that he should ever again greet any of his 
countrymen, became restless. He could see no means 
of escape. Spotted-Feather likewise grew impatient. 
No great blessing had manifested itself. The Indian 
maize, or corn, was none too far advanced. In fact, 
it gave evidence of never maturing, which was indeed a 
bad omen. Spotted-Feather's warriors were dissatis- 
fied. They implored their chief to send the Friar away, 
but Spotted-Feather's faith in the stranger's powers 
could not be shaken. 

The Friar shortly thereafter outlined a cross in 
the sand before the tepee of the Indian chief. Now the 
mystic symbol was not unknown to Spotted-Feather, 
or to his forefathers. It had been reverenced by the 
Chaldeans, Phoenicians, Mexicans and every primeval 
people as a mysterious, hidden wisdom. The Friar 
saw in it the salvation of souls. 

Spotted-Feather did not tarry. It was enough. 
The cross to him meant a talisman of great power 
against demons. So the three hundred Chickasaws, 
with their squaws, papooses and dogs trailing behind, 
crossed the Mississippi in bark canoes and led by the 
Friar, journeyed westward. The Chickasaws accord- 


ing to tradition, had come out of the west, and this 
seemed like a glorious opportunity to Spotted-Feather 
to be charmed back into primitive delights. 

For a time it kept the warriors off the war path. 
They ignored the mockery hurled at them by other 
tribes, in being led through their own country by a 
bearded stranger. There were dances, feasts and days 
of atonement, Indian fashion. But the Friar found it 
difficult to lead them. His was a faith without super- 
stition's fears. 

Now Moscosco de Alvarado and his men, having 
reached the Arkansas River, decided to follow its 
course. Months passed. Winter had given way to 
spring. They were intent on getting away from the 
marshy country of the Southland until far enough west 
to strike directly southward in their effort to reach 

It was just after the time that Francisco Vasquez 
de Coronado journeyed northward from Mexico in 
1540-1542, in search of the land of riches and later 
for what proved to be the mythical City of Quivira 
with its streets of turquoise. His trail doubtless was 
crossed in 1542 by that of Moscosco de Alvarado, 
who little dreamed that one of his countrymen pre- 
ceded him by a short time to this land of aboriginal 
mysteries. So it transpires that Moscosco de Alvarado 
in all likelihood was the second white man to put foot 
on what is now Colorado soil. 

The northwestern course pursued by Moscosco de 
Alvarado and his men, by a coincidence of fate, early 
was bringing them nearer to Spotted-Feather and his 
tribe, led by the Friar. And when, one day, on the 
distant horizon, the Chickasaws saw a slow-moving 


body of strange people, they streaked their faces with 
vermilion and whooped the war cry. Seeing he could 
no longer hold them in restraint the Friar, realizing it 
was a part of De Soto's band, kept in advance with 
Spotted- Feather. 

Arrows sped over the Friar's head as they 
whizzed toward the Spaniards, who offered feeble re- 
sistance. Carried momentarily into a frenzy at sight 
of Roderig wearing his raiment, the Friar, fearless 
under fire, rushed his adversary. As he thrust the sword 
into the body of its owner — Roderig — the Indian 
blanket fell from the Friar's shoulders, revealing the 
Spanish uniform. 

"Holy Virgin, save me!" cried the deceptor, 
realizing as he sank, mortally wounded, that he had 
been caught at last. The battle ended abruptly at a 
signal from Spotted-Feather. Moscosco de Alvarado 
threw his arms about the Friar and wept for joy. Ad- 
miring countrymen welcomed him, as Roderig, the im- 
postor, expired. 

Spotted-Feather, seeing the Friar once again 
clothed in the priestly robes taken from Roderig, moved 
off with his tribesmen. Then, for a second time, a 
strange thing occurred. 

The Friar, once again the spiritual guide, was 
handed the cross to replace the sword. But he shrank 
from it. A rent in his own garment — pierced by his 
own hand — reminded him of the life he had guiltily 
taken. He saw the cross, blood-stained. Roderig, 
dying, had pressed it against his wound. The Friar 
cringed in agony before its significance. He must 
make atonement for having slain another — defenseless 
— in unholy anger. 


He joined Moscosco de Alvarado on the march 
through what is now Pueblo, and into the mountains, 
touched with the rose-tinted afterglow of sunset on 
snow-capped heights. Penitent, he muttered: "San- 
gre de Cristo," meaning, "For the Blood of Christ." 
Thus the great Sangre de Cristo Range, in what is 
now San Isabel National Forest, came to be named. 
Here he left them, as they turned southward toward 
Mexico. His was a new mission, the search for a sign 
of forgiveness from heaven. Humiliation was his lot, 
and penance. His troubled soul had visualized for 
him redemption's cross. 

This symbol he sought. For days he passed 
through deep gulches and clambered to steep heights; 
slept in the open, ate roots and herbs, and endured 
privations that even his hardened physique could not 
successfully withstand. For weeks he traveled aim- 
lessly about in the Rocky Mountains, as yet unnamed 
save in Indian terms by the Utes he encountered. The 
Indians, fearing him, gave him food and shelter. Twice 
he caught a glimpse through wooded aisles of what he 
thought was a cross in the heavens. 

But continued hardships began to tell upon him. 
Once, with dazed mind, due, in part to his unnourished 
body feeling the effects of the higher altitudes, he ex- 
perienced a sort of mist settling about him. It was 
midday, yet he could see nothing. Then, his mind, 
responding, groped for an explanation. 

Sinking to his knees, he began to pray. It was a 
trying effort, but the cloud lifted. Gazing, he beheld 
off there to the West the symbol of eternity, a snow- 
white cross, unstained by crimson. The huge cross 
was outlined against the mountain side. With out- 


stretched arms he sought forgiveness, and with contrite 
heart, collapsed. His soul passed onward. Curious 
Utes watching from a nearby peak of the Gore Range 
saw him sink to the earth and never rise again. They 
told of it in their councils. 

From a plateau near what is Shrine Pass today, 
in the Red Cliff country, the Friar had gazed upon the 
wondrous cross of snow which, each year, is formed 
anew when the transverse ravines hold secure Colo- 
rado's snows until late in summer. Now other pil- 
grimages end at the foot of the great cross of snow. 


ANCE festivities were in preparation at the 
summer camp of the Arapahoes at Marys 
Lake, just outside the eastern boundary of 
Rocky Mountain National Park. Spring 
sports, with the bow-and-arrow contests, pony races, 
wrestling and running games, had marked the close, 
with great ceremony, of their winter camp on the Colo- 
rado River, about seven miles above Grand Lake. 
Squaws, children and aged warriors had crossed the 
Continental Divide by way of Trail Ridge, the old 
Ute Trail, while most of the braves took the harder 
but shorter beaten path over Flattop Mountain to reach 
what is now called the Estes Park region. 

Buffalo hunters were returning to their tepees, 
which the squaws had set up the day before while the 
braves prepared for the buffalo chase. The great hunt 
had been successful, and feast days were at hand. 

Ne-o-ta, an imaginative hltle Arapahoe maiden 
affectionately called the Deer-Heart, because her eyes 
were large and sott and her manners shy and timid, 
stepped from the skin-covered shelter of her father's 
tepee, singing a light retrain. The disquieting recol- 
lection of a mythical monster known as the carcagne, 
feared even by trappers early in the nineteenth century 
and realistic enough to her, set Ne-o-ta's imagination 

On the trip across the mountains, her mother, 
Ni-ha-na-wu, had recounted tales of narrow escapes 


Majestic Longs Peak and Chasm Lake in 
Rocky Mountain National Park 


from this dreadful, devouring carcagne. She had 
pointed to precipitous heights where the beast had 
sprung over seemingly impassable gorges and had even 
scaled the cliffs through foaming cataracts. The 
carcagne, variously described by Ni-ha-na-wu, had a 
long, pointed nose and sharp ears like a wolf, and its 
cry was indescribable. Like the blasts of the North 
Wind, the monster destroyed everything in its path. So 
to ward off fear, Ne-o-ta sang; to ward off fear of the 
beast and lonesomeness for Na-kos. 

Ne-o-ta's tender age was the ostensible objection 
raised by Ni-ha-na-wu to the admiration shown by the 
youthful Na-kos. Ku-m-tha, another Arapahoe brave, 
likewise showered his attentions on Ne-o-ta at every 
opportunity, perhaps to the pleasure of Ni-ha-na-wu; 
but his father, Oe-che-ne, was war chief of the Ara- 
pahoes, which may account for the mother's preference 
for Ku-ni-tha. But Na-kos fondly loved the maiden, 
and she longed for him, despite her mother's wishes. 

As she stood there in the bright sunshine, she 
thought she discerned far away, a big-horn sheep half 
hidden by a rocky crag. Presently she was attracted 
by a bear — or was it her vivid imagination visualizing 
the wolf-nose monster — in the nearby woodland. It 
rose up for a moment, seemed to scent danger, then 
dropped on all fours and was gone. 

But she soon forgot the carcagne, for the air was 
filled with shouts and derisive jests. Oe-che-ne, the 
Old-Raven, rushed from his tepee, flourishing his bow- 
and-arrow in imitation of his bird-namesake flapping 
its wings. He confronted a buffalo coming into camp. 
The attitude he assumed, with drawn bow, created 
great mirth among the assembled Indians. For it was 
all in play. Concealed within the buffalo hide was 


Ku-ni-tha, Oe-che-ne's young son, who at dawn had 
decoyed the unsuspecting herd of buffaloes into a trap 
for slaughter. 

Now the "trap", northeast of Estes Park Village 
of today was a narrowing passage formed by a conver- 
gence of the mountains between "Devils Gulch" and 
"Long Gulch." Ku-ni-tha, with the hide and head of 
a great black buffalo skillfully fastened about him, 
mingled with the herd, and, assuming leadership, slowly 
enticed them into the death-trap defile. At a given 
signal, the squaws and old men came running from hid- 
ing places in the rear of the animals, frightening them 
into the narrow gorge, where the Arapahoe braves were 
lying in wait, carefully concealed from sight along the 
sides of the gulch, which narrows to a ten-foot "gate". 
After wounding the buffaloes with arrows and spears, 
they then finished them with tomahawks. 

It was from this escapade Ku-ni-tha was return- 
ing. The make-believe buffalo rolled over on its back, 
that the buckskin laces might be undone, and out 
crawled Ku-ni-tha, glad once again to stand erect after 
having traveled many miles on hands and feet. He 
quietly exchanged a tew words with Oe-che-ne, who 
started for the council tepee where he had assembled 
the warriors in anticipation of Ku-ni-tha's return. 

While the squaws, led by Ni-ha-na-wu, sang 
praises of Ku-ni-tha's successful buffalo slaughter as 
they prepared the feast, the warriors, among them 
Na-kos, considered the menacing encroachment of the 
Utes. For Ku-ni-tha had devoted himself eagerly to 
the hunt, while Na-kos, thinking more of the safety of 
the tribe and of the beloved Ne-o-ta, had abandoned 
the chase to spy on the skulking figures of Utes on 
Wind River Trail. He had then hurried back to camp 


and reported to Chief Oe-che-ne that the valley was 
full of the enemy. 

The old warriors sat long in meditation after 
Oe-che-ne called the council gathering, but the younger 
men, absorbed by thoughts of the dance ring, disre- 
garded the real significance of the alarm. Within the 
stone-marked rings they expected to dance in the open 
during the afternoon and night, in celebration of the 
buffalo hunt. A small fire in the center of this ring 
would hold them enthralled in a strange worship of its 

Just as the squaws had the meat pots ready for 
the fires, a wounded Arapahoe, bringing buffalo meat 
on his pony, staggered into camp. This development 
emphasized the imminent danger. Ordinarily another 
day would have passed while Utes assembled, only to 
be defiantly repulsed in battle by the waiting Arapa- 
hoes. But the wounded brave brought word of many 
smoke signals to guide the assembling Utes. His people 
would be greatly outnumbered. Even now Ute run- 
ners were spying on the camp. 

In the discussion Na-kos was called for to tell the 
council the position and number of the band of Utes on 
Wind River Trail. But Na-kos had quietly slipped 
away. Nevertheless Oe-che-ne was sustained in his 
proposal that the Arapahoes return to the winter camp 
across the Continental Divide, for the Utes had evi- 
dently come to kill mountain sheep and to escape the 
heat of the plains in summer. The Arapahoe braves 
could not dream peacefully in their tepees with their 
deadly enemies, the Utes, so close at hand. 

So the plans for feasting were turned into hurried 
departure. Smoldering camp fires, buffalo meat and 
tepee rings of stone for weighting the ends of the skin 


tents, told the story of flight. It would require an all- 
night march, over the pine- fringed reaches of the Snowy 
Range, to gain the retreat of the Arapahoes in a shel- 
tered vale near Grand Lake. 

The three hundred warriors, divided into an ad- 
vance and rear escort for the women and children, 
started over the old Ute Trail, which we now call the 
Trail Ridge. A very sharp incline, to reach the ridge 
proper, was called "Where-the- Women- Walk,** be- 
cause up this stretch the ponies could not carry any 
burden in addition to their heavy trappings. 

One hundred fifty braves, mounted on swift ponies, 
led the party, sending scouts in advance as far as the 
head of Forest Canyon, where the Fall River Road 
crosses the old Ute Trail. The remaining braves 
brought up the rear, with the women and children 
scattered along the narrow, tree-sheltered trail. 

Ne-o-ta had just helped the old Ni-ha-na-wu over 
the steep, rough ascent "Where-the-Women-Walk** 
and, as they were neanng timberhne, had put a heav- 
ier blanket about her mother's shoulders, when suddenly 
she was encircled by a strong arm, a firm hand was 
pressed over her mouth, and she found herself lifted 
from her fed into the arms of Ka-vi-a-wach, a young 
Ute chieftain. He had tried to make love to her sur- 
reptitiously the previous summer, and now bore her 
swiftly into the forest. Ni-ha-na-wu gave chase, shriek- 
ing, but her cries were drowned by the trample of the 
ponies* feet, and in the confusion of the march their 
absence passed unnoticed. 

Down the steep slope Ka-vi-a-wach staggered 
with his prize, a maiden from an enemy tribe. This 
feat would give him an enviable position in the eyes of 
his tribesmen. And so for hours he pushed through 


dense woods, over the rough, wild, unfamiliar region. 
The old Ni-ha-na-wu, stumblingly followed as fast as 
her weary limbs could carry her. Finally they came 
to Chasm Falls, where Fall River plunges thirty feet 
into a rocky gorge nearly twenty feet wide. There was 
no means of crossing. 

Ka-vi-a-wach decided to go down stream in the 
hope of finding a place to ford it when a black bear 
appeared from the direction of the falls, growling an- 
grily. Now, a bear will not attack human beings if 
unprovoked, but rather shuns them. However, a 
mother bear will protect its cubs. Ka-vi-a-wach knew 
that not far away, and behind him on the narrow path, 
must be the cave-like shelter containing the cubs, and 
realized the danger to himself and his little captive. 

Instinctively he prayed to the protecting spirit of 
the water; for after the ancient custom of his people, 
Ka-vi-a-wach bore the name of the foaming white spray 
of the mountain stream, which was the first object his 
father saw when the child's birth was announced. Sud- 
denly wild shrieks rent the air. Across the gorge Ne- 
o-ta's startled eyes beheld the animal that gave the in- 
describable cry. In her frightened state she likened it 
to the weird monster. Only the deep, wide ravine 
could save them from the destroying beast. Terror 
seized them all. Old Ni-ha-na-wu folded her arms 
over her bent head and moaned. Even the old mother 
bear, maddened by the uproar, became the more de- 
termined to reach its cave shelter. 

But, look! The odd beast, running to the precip 
itous edge of the gorge, sniffed the air, growled, ran 
back, then returned and clambered up a tall spruce 
tree growing on the very edge of the ravine. The 
next moment it was swaying in the top of the spruce, 


one paw clutching a branch, the other outstretched to 
keep its poise as it rode high in the air. 

Careening far over the gulch, the beast suddenly 
leaped from the tree, cunningly catapulted through 
space, then crashed into a smaller spruce on the other 
side, near Ne-o-ta and Ka-vi-a-wach, thereby breaking 
the force of its tumbling fall to the ground. Stunned 
momentarily, it quickly recovered and closely embraced 
the unwilling Ka-vi-a-wach. In the death struggle the 
animal overpowered the Ute, and wresting from him 
the bone dagger of defense, fatally wounded the In- 
dian. Then it rushed the bear, which, bleeding, scam- 
pered for the cub den. 

The superstitious Ne-o-ta fully believed that the 
carcagne, bugaboo of her imagination, would certainly 
wreak its vengeance on her mother and herself. But 
the odd beast rolled over on its back with a cry, "Ne- 
o-ta! Ne-o-ta!" Scarcely able to believe her ears 
the Arapahoe maiden, recognizing the voice, quickly 
unlaced the shaggy hide of a grizzly, and out 
crawled Na-kos, his back bleeding from cruel scratches 
inflicted by the black bear. 

Na-kos, eager to outshine Ku-ni-tha, had left the 
council tepee before noon to take his perilous turn at 
scouting. Having determined the strength and near- 
ness of the enemy, he was returning to the camp, un- 
advised of the sudden departure of his people. He 
scalped Ka-vi-a-wach, the Ute, and won Ni-ha-na- 
wu's consent to marry her daughter, Ne-o-ta. And 
during the night they overtook the fleeing Arapahoes. 


HE loghouse trading post on the South Platte 
River in Colorado was crowded with buckskin- 
robed trappers and gaudily-blanketed Arapa- 
hoe Indians. It was in the spring of 1835. 
Interest centered in a strikingly pretty Indian maiden, 
Touch-the-Sky, sitting in a swing-like support made of 
sacks, as part of an old-style arm scale. She was the 
balance for a counter weight comprising satins, calico, 
tobacco and steel arrowheads. It was a barter, un- 
usual in the tribe of the Arapahoes, provoked by a 
rivalry for the maiden's hand. 

Madeiro Gonzales Lupton, of Spanish descent, 
possessing the soft, mellow voice of his Castihan fore- 
fathers, sought as his bride Touch-the-Sky. From out 
her captivating, copper-hued countenance, wreathed in 
raven tresses, shone dancing brown eyes. Lupton was 
in charge of the trading post for the American Fur 
Trading Company of St. Louis. 

Over him glowered Palette de St. Vrain, second 
in command. All the elegance of a station in royalty 
had been thrown about the Indian princess by the 
Frenchman, rival for her hand, in his manners and by 
his continued outbursts of impassioned love. 

Since 1833, when Lupton built the small log 
trading post, these two had been staunch friends. Each 
had professed never to end their companionship for an 
Indian maiden, attractive as some were in their primi- 
tive costumes. And now, two years later, of a sudden, 
their vow of friendship seemed to split asunder — cen- 



tering in a brawl in which they shared equal blame. 
The princess had captured two hearts. Coyly she 
played with them. 

Lupton gazed, steel-eyed, at Two-Arrow, Arapa- 
hoe sub-chief, then tossed another packet of expensive 
draperies on the scale. The tribal leader had insisted 
upon receiving in exchange for the maiden the equiv- 
alent of her weight in what, to the Arapahoes, meant 

"Heap more!" grunted Chief Two-Arrow. Now 
Touch-the-Sky towered above the other maidens and 
weighed about one hundred and twenty-five pounds. 
Lupton, limited by the Arapahoes in selection to a 
counter balance of only the costliest of articles in the 
stock of exchange goods, was at his wit's end. The 
barter scale needed at least another twenty-five pounds 
to complete the transaction. 

"It's wrong, and what's more, unfair," protested 
St. Vrain, who saw that the Arapahoes had accepted 
Lupton's proffer in humanity. 'The Company won't 
stand for this; besides, I 

Before St. Vrain could finish he found himself 
delivering and unavoidably receiving staggering blows. 
Lupton had resented his words. Touch-the-Sky, 
frightened, wriggled out of the sack-swing and escaped 
to her people. Trappers finally separated Lupton and 
St. Vrain, but from that day they were sworn enemies. 

It was in the land of the beaver, buffalo and other 
fur-bearing animals. There were also the black-tailed 
deer, antelope and elk in the nearby snow-capped 
Rockies. Wild turkeys occasionally supplied food and 
war bonnet feathers. Cottonwood and aspen trees 

lupton's love fort 49 

bordered the stream. Spruces and pines commanded 
the mountain slopes. 

Lupton did not have opportunity to finish the 
transaction that called for a counter balance of finery 
and beads. Instead, the Arapahoes continued to re- 
ceive small favors until the Spaniard could complete 
the erection of a mud block, or adobe fort, construction 
of which was begun immediately by twelve of the Com- 
pany trappers. 

The remaining twelve Company trappers, having 
decided to cast their fortunes with St. Vrain, crossed 
to the west side of the river and there erected a log 
stockade. In the meantime the business of fur trading 
was neglected. 

Daring and impulsive adventure in these trail- 
blazers had withstood every challenge of privation, 
constant danger from attack by wild animals and death 
at the hands of prowling Indians. During this time the 
little log trading post had been all sufficient for Lupton 
and St. Vrain. Then friend turned foe. Lupton 
erected an immense fortification for those times, which 
his followers named Fort Lupton. 

Its ruins are crumbling on what is now a farm in 
a peaceful village by that name, in the center of a rich 
agricultural district. In the eighty years or more that 
have elapsed gold has been discovered in Clear Creek, 
and Denver, about twenty-five miles to the south, has 
become the metropolis of the Rocky Mountains. 

Concern for the safety of Lupton and the others 
was expressed at St. Louis when shipments by water 
ceased. As many as half a dozen rafts loaded with 
furs had been sent down the river at one time, finding 
their destination at length on the Mississippi. Months 
passed with no shipments. Instead, Cupid held sway 


while a fortification with pretentious defense works 
lifted its romantic towers to the sky, on the edge of the 
wilderness. It was, in truth, a temple wherein love, 
fortified, was to reign in regal state. 

The love fort was one hundred feet square. Its 
walls were eighteen feet high, tapering from three feet 
in thickness at the foundation to a foot at the top. A 
circular tower containing lookout holes for defense 
purposes — a veritable conning tower for Cupid — rose 
ten feet above the walls. Small turrets, of Spanish de- 
sign, more for ornament, superimposed the adobe block 

Lupton had abandoned the log trading post. He 
was just finishing the love fort when St. Vrain, realiz- 
ing that a battle of the heart was on, ventured forth, 
and by subtle means kidnapped Touch-the-Sky. 

Now the tepees of the Arapahoes lay to the east 
of Lupton's fortification. Their warwhoops while giving 
chase to St. Vrain and his followers, were heard by 
Lupton in time to intercept the fleeing love rival. St. 
Vrain dropped his captive and spurred his pony to 
greater action. Lupton took Touch-the-Sky to the 
love fort prepared for her, accompanied by Chief 

Preparations were under way next day for the 
acceptance of Lupton's proffer. The old arm-scale, 
once more suspended from heavy log beams by a rope 
caught in an iron ring, was brought into service. The 
barter proceeded. It brought riches, pound for pound, 
representing the equivalent of coveted humanity. Lup- 
ton was about to become the squaw-man husband of 
Touch-the-Sky. Outside, St. Vrain and his followers 
assembled to storm the fort. Old ball and powder 
muskets were brought into play to the consternation 

lupton's love fort 51 

of Chief Two-Arrow and his tribesmen, as well as 
of the maiden, Touch-the-Sky. 

St. Wain's men broke down the rough-hewn tim- 
ber gate. Chief Two-Arrow, with arms uplifted, in 
the role of peacemaker, appeared and the firing ceased. 
But his message to St. Vrain was a challenge from 
Lupton to do mortal combat. Within the walls of the 
love fort the romance must be settled. St. Vrain ac- 
cepted the challenge of fists and daggers. 

So these two bearded fur-traders, robust and of 
powerful physique, fought the most unusual battle 
for love ever recorded. Here, in a courtyard within 
a love fort on the western frontier of the United States, 
they matched their strength. Blows rained, then dag- 
gers flashed in the sunlight, as they fought beneath an 
azure-canopied sky. Life, after all, was worth the 
living. Romance had entered the lives of daring trap- 
pers who had left comforts and pleasures and con- 
veniences of civilization far behind in pushing westward 
to a wild country. And then 

Lupton, wounded in the shoulder, began to show 
distressing signs of weakness. St. Vrain cunningly ad- 
vanced the fight to where Touch-the-Sky, wide-eyed, 
half crouching, nervously clung to Chief Two-Arrow. 
In a tense moment the wily Frenchman swerved and, 
snatching the maiden unawares, started for the gate. 
His followers sought to shield him from attack. But 
Lupton, enraged, slashed his way to the fleeing rival. 
Realizing impending danger, St. Vrain turned suddenly 
as the poised dagger descended on its fatal way. It 
was driven, not into his own breast, but unintentionally 
through the heart of the struggling princess. 

She sank, limp, at the feet of Lupton. Frantic 
at the tragedy wrought by his own hands, he sprang 


wildly upon his adversary and drove home the crimson- 
stained dagger. St. Vrain, dying, was carried away 
by his followers. Lupton, holding the clinging maiden 
in his arms, pressed a kiss to her lips. He helped bury 
her there, as her soul winged its flight to the Happy 
Hunting Ground of the Arapahoes. 

But did it? Chief Two- Arrow confessed to 
Lupton, after she had been buried with Indian cere- 
mony and royal pomp, that Touch-the-Sky was of 
Caucasian lineage, and had been stolen from her white 
parents in her early childhood. She could speak only 
the Indian tongue, and knew not her origin. Though 
life in the outdoors had bronzed her skin, her heart had 
never inclined toward an Indian brave. 

Instead, she marveled and responded to the at- 
tentions paid her by Lupton and St. Vrain. Their 
rivalry at courtship was satisfying; thrilling, but unex- 
plainable. Her Temple of Love — the only love fort 
known to have been thus erected — became at once 
her monument in death. Her dying smile haunted 
Lupton and he soon fled the country. 


UFFALO hides and paleface scalps were the 
trophies of the hunting band of Kiowas until 
Shaky-Legs, their leader, learned that Ouray, 
chieftain of the Uncompahgre Utes, was 
camped at La Porte, near the mouth of the Cache la 
Poudre Canyon, in what is now the Colorado Na- 
tional Forest. It was in the early '60s. Venturesome 
French Canadians in search of gold had braved the 
uprisings of Indians, including the Arapahoes and 

Ouray and his people followed the run of the 
buffalo farther to the north than usual. He was thirty. 
Chipeta, his squaw, and their year-old papoose, Loqui- 
to, were with him. At this early age Ouray gave 
promise of the greatness which later won for him the 
distinction as the outstanding chief of the Indian tribes 
of Colorado. 

Ouray's father was a Tabeguache Ute and his 
mother an Apache of the Jicarilla tribe. Ouray's boy- 
hood was passed among the better class of Mexican 
rancheros, as a sheepherder. He soon learned to 
speak Spanish and English fluently. At twenty he 
joined his father, leader of a band of Utes, in a battle 
against the Kiowas. Among the enemy was Shaky- 
Legs, who was about Ouray's age. They fought, and 
Shaky-Legs narrowly escaped death when Ouray's 
tomahawk marked him with a glancing blow. They 
hissed their names, indicating they were sworn enemies 

for life. 



Now Shaky-Legs, unknown to Ouray, was prowl- 
ing in the densely wooded region of the Ute camp near 
the frontier post of Fort Collins. He came alone, 
seeking revenge for the scar on his forehead. A June 
shower blew up suddenly, giving the late afternoon the 
semi-darkness of twilight shadows, and as it rained 
Shaky-Legs cut through the rear of the skin tepee of 
Ouray, who was directing the roundup of the tribe's 

Into the tepee crept Shaky-Legs. Chipeta was 
bending over the papoose, crooningly mumbling In- 
dian terms of endearment. The next instant she was 
overpowered, gagged and bound hand and foot. 
Quickly the intruder regained the underbrush of the 
forest, carrying the papoose tucked in its sheepskin- 
lined, latticed board cradle. 

Ouray returned. The clouds scatterd. He car- 
ried the hysterical Chipeta outdoors. In the sky was 
a rainbow of gorgeous colors. Griefstricken, he never- 
theless sought to console Chipeta that this sign in the 
heavens gave assurance of Loquito's eventual return. 
Placing her in gentle hands, he led a handful of war- 
riors toward one end of the arched rainbow, while 
others started in the opposite direction. But late at 
night they returned, emptyhanded. 

The camp of Shaky-Legs, of which Ouray had 
heard on reaching Fort Collins, and the leader of which 
he at once suspected, could be located only by smol- 
dering camp fires and rings of stones used in holding 
down their tepees. The Kiowa leader had started for 
the plains country to the east at sundown. 

Although bearing up bravely for the sake of Chi- 
peta, to whom he was devotedly attached, Ouray never 


fully outlived the tragedy of the kidnapping of his 
only child. After a fruitless search he returned with 
saddened heart to his ranch lands in the Uncompahgre 
Valley, where he had large herds of cattle and sheep. 

Meantime the tiny Loquito was mothered by a 
Kiowa squaw of the Bear clan. Still-Water, the 
daughter of Shaky-Legs, belonging to the Eagle clan, 
began playing with the Ute at an early age. She was 
nearly two years younger than the son of Ouray, who, 
as he grew to manhood, become as one of the Kiowas. 

Their attachment for one another, approvingly 
watched by Shaky-Legs, brought about a marriage. 
Loquito, mentally alert, agreeable, and popular among 
the Kiowas, at sixteen claimed Still-Water for his 
squaw. This was in 1 878. 

Many times had the camping place of the Kiowas 
changed since Shaky-Legs had stolen the Ute papoose. 
But always there was carefully conveyed with the trap- 
pings the bead-bedecked cradle-board in which Chi- 
peta had placed Loquito on that fatal evening. It had 
not since been used. But when, in 1879, a copper-hued 
papoose came as a blessing to Still-Water, the heart of 
Shaky-Legs momentarily expressed the warrior's finer 
feelings. He brought forth the cradle-board for Still- 
Water's little boy, realizing, however, that its disclos- 
ure would lead to a long postponed confession on his 

And so it developed. The name "Loquito*' had 
been crudely matted into the skin covering of the cradle- 
board, in English, by Ouray and his early American 
acquaintances. Shaky-Legs shrewdly imimated that 
the strange characters indicated as much, and Loquito 
knew no different. However, the cradle-board also 


contained typical markings of the Utes whom Loquito 
had been taught to hate by the Kiowas. 

The expected moment had come, even sooner 
than Shaky-Legs anticipated. He implored Loquito 
to wait until the papoose was "twelve moons** old 
before he related the story of the cradle-board. And 
so the papoose of Still- Water came to be known as 
Twelve- Moons. 

Loquito surmised the truth, but thought his par- 
ents had been killed and that the Kiowas had spared 
his life. However, about a year later Shaky-Legs told 
him the story, beginning with the scar on his forehead. 
Loquito was powerless before Shaky-Legs, who was 
now one of the tribal sub-chiefs. There was, too, the 
tie of devotion to Still-Water that held him in tolerant 
submission as the narrative unfolded. 

Now the age of Twelve-Moons was about that of 
Loquito when he was kidnapped. Having been brought 
up under the influences of the Kiowas as one of them, 
Loquito did not feel the hatred toward them that as a 
born Ute he should feel. Inheriting the manifest qual- 
ities of self-sacrifice that marked the lives of his parents, 
Loquito sought to right the wrong committed. Secret- 
ly he evolved a plan in which Shaky-Legs, through 
Still-Water, his own flesh and blood, must share in 
the sacrifice. 

Under pretext of getting away from camp tem- 
porarily in order to recover from the shock of sudden 
disclosure, Loquito made the hazardous trip into the 
country of the Utes, in southwestern Colorado, ac- 
companied by Still-Water with the little papoose, 
Twelve-Moons, strapped to her back. It took them 
many weeks to reach the vicinity of the Los Pinos 


Indian Agency, the Ute reservation in the fastness of 
the Colorado Rockies. 

Early in life Ouray had seen the futility of the 
tribal desire to stem the tide of paleface settlers. Hated 
but feared by many of his tribesmen, he nevertheless sat 
in the councils of the federal government in disputes 
affecting his people, and prevented much bloodshed. 

Although in his prime — not yet having reached 
the age of fifty — his remaining days were few, mixed, 
as they were, with joy and sorrow following a strange 
experience late one afternoon in June. There came a 
sudden shower, and after the clouds had lifted Ouray 
went outdoors. He never failed to look for the sign 
which he believed would somehow bring back his be- 
loved Loquito. The oracle in the heavens had not 
since appeared under exactly similar conditions. But, 
look ! Today his prayers to Mother Earth, Father Sun 
and all the other gods, were answered. The rainbow 
of promise was arched in a position seemingly identical 
with the way in which it had appeared on that fateful 
day, years before. 

A tiny voice faintly heard thrilled his being. "Chi- 
peta! Chipeta!" he cried to his devoted squaw. She 
hastened with him to the edge of a wooded tract, only 
a few steps from their log house abode. Against a tree 
reposed a cradle-board, half-hidden in a vari-colored 
blanket containing primary colors as if reflecting 
Heaven's mystic arch. A tiny papoose was fretting, 
instinctively trying to make itself heard. 

"Loquito! Loquito!" cried the excited Ouray, 
hardly able to believe that the cradle-board he saw was 
the same which held his baby boy nearly a score of 
years before. He was momentarily confused. Chipeta 


rocked the cradle-board to and fro in her arms and 
Twelve-Moons dropped off to sleep. 

Ouray carefully looked about but saw no one. 
Listening, he heard nothing unusual. Yet on a knoll, 
tree-covered, stood a youthful maiden — Still- Water, 
who just at present wasn't living up to her name. Tears 
were streaming down her cheeks. Beside her stood 
Loquito, intently peering through a forest aisle that 
enabled him to see all that transpired. 

Having seen, he stretched out his arms that his 
blanket might infold the heartbroken Still-Water. A 
short grunt told his squaw that the sacrifice was com- 
plete. He raised the sobbing Still-Water in his arms 
and stolidly retraced his steps to the tepees of the 
Kiowas, as Ouray and Chipeta, bewildered, hastened 
indoors with their promised gift of the rainbow. 


Snow Angel of Mount Shavano on the 
Continental Divide. 


HAVANO, picturesque war chieftain of the 
Tabeguache Utes, was overwhelmed. The 
cloudless sky, whose aboriginal mysticisms he 
often unraveled for his tribesmen, seemed 
strangely unfathomable. Now Shavano, in Ute, sig- 
nifies "Blue Flower". In him was symbolized the wis- 
dom of the star-studded canopy, reflected in the sacred 
bluebell with its delicate chimes of mystifying Indian 

Grief clouded his vision. For him, the cosmic 
scheme of things, revered but understood only through 
the eyes of wonderment, was upset. Literally, the 
flower of his heart had been pulled up and crushed. 
No direct descendants would perpetuate his idylls of 
primitive worship, attuned to legendary flights of In- 
dian enchantment. Sit-by-the-Stream, the warrior's 
son, had been ruthlessly dispatched to the Red Man's 
Happy Hunting Ground by a dagger in the hands of 
Flamish, a paleface roustabout. So Shavano's seed 
must perish! 

Shavano, pondering, gazed into the West. Behind 
him the Indian warriors were dancing slowly in a circle 
to the weird, impelling music of the tom-toms. Oc- 
casionally a sagebrush or bough of spruce was thrown 
on the small camp fire. But the agony of green bran- 
ches in the toils of sacrifice was typified on a much 
larger scale by a helpless girl bound to a pine tree and 
discernible in the glow of the sputtering firedarts. There 



was plenty of brushwood and sticks at hand for the 
expected ceremony. Shavano must decide her fate. 

Pride of ancestry, deeply instilled in Shavano, 
inclined him to frown upon the Spanish girl, for he 
could not understand why Sit-by-the-Stream ignored 
tribal maidens for the love of Carmenita Montoya, a 
white maiden upon whom Flamish, the paleface good- 
for-nothing, showered attentions. And, too, Shavano 
could not help but feel that the death of Sit-by-the- 
Stream was indirectly brought about through the en- 
couragement of his son's attentions. 

Carmenita's delightful personality attracted the 
dream-filled adventurer, the hardened-in-saddle cow- 
boy and the prospector of a gold-washing river craft, 
and held their respect. But they feared to offend her 
by their advances, not only because her sympathies lay 
with the magnetic and romantic Sit-by-the-Stream and 
his moccasined people, but because she resented the 
uncouth manners and speech of these wearers of leather 
"chaps" and holsters among Colorado's pioneers. 

An unwelcome proffer of affection previously 
thrust upon Carmenita by Flamish had resulted in 
innocent bloodshed. Sit-by, as Carmenita endearingly 
called her Indian lover, was spirited away in the night 
as gentle breezes whispered a requiem from nodding 
pine trees. She had been the last to secretly minister 
to his wants. Flamish had fled. 

So, now! Carmenita was bound to a tree. Cu- 
rious eyes awaited the sign from Shavano, Ute chief- 
tain, before applying the firebrands to the branches at 
her feet. Accacia, the soothsayer, Shavano's coun- 
selor, stood at hand, ready to repeat the expected 


sign to proceed the moment Shavano faced about, 
directing his gaze to the East. That was to be the 
death signal. 

Hatred, mixed with a strange, unaccountable 
something, fought for supremacy in the breast of 
Shavano. He pulled his strangely-patterned blanket 
about him, and with arms folded, stood motionless. 
Although his fringed, rabbit skin breeches, beaded 
moccasins and elk-tooth decorated native shirt did 
not disclose it, civilization's awakening had touched 
him. He had made the most of the days the many 
spirits of his ancestors had breathed upon him, and his 
puzzled mind now sought relief in a prayer to his 
manito — a broken-arrow charm — pleading enlight- 

Vengeance, however, would not easily down. 
Had not the paleface again given provocation to call 
his Ute tribesmen into action? The warriors had 
kidnapped the girl for a purpose — expiation, in part, 
for their loss. Shavano, distressed, had a different idea, 
at first vague and confusing, but now haunting and 
impelling. And while he was fumbling about, men- 
tally, for an expression of his feelings, Carmenita grew 
desperate in her helplessness. 

Reconciled to what seemed an inevitable fate, 
she had gazed quietly toward the moonlit peaks seek- 
ing a figure outlined in white against a distant moun- 
tainside. Knowing the legend the Indians connected 
with the snow-spirit, which she now saw clearly, she 
silently prayed for as speedy an end as that which came 
to the Princess Corn-Tassel, which the figure on the 
mountainside represented. But at the thought of part- 
ing from her lover, whom she knew to be still living, 


she cried out in desperation and vainly sought to free 
herself from the merciless hold of the taut buckskin 

"Carmenita knows secret," she shouted in a ner- 
vous voice, so as to be heard above the low-chanting 
Utes dancing about her in the death circle. 

Now Bear-Four-Paws, formidable rival for tribal 
honors of the departed Sit-by-the-Stream, looked with 
savage favor upon the ravishing Carmenita. She shud- 
dered at the grin he wore through the mask of red 
clay streaks. His fascination for her, carried away to 
primitive ecstasy, spurred him to action. 

Visions of a spiritual reunion of Sit-by-the-Stream 
and the girl almost brought him to a standstill in deliv- 
ering Carmenita's message. Sit-by-the-Stream would 
be a long time, if ever, reaching the Indian Happy 
Hunting Ground. No tomahawk, bow and arrow, 
war dress and jar of water had been left beside his 
body to fortify him on the spirit journey to the Red 
Man's heaven. 

Without his weapons of warfare and a wish token 
from Shavano as guides, Sit-by-the-Stream might 
easily be directed by Carmenita, instead, to the great 
spirit land of the paleface. He could see them happily 
reunited, inseparable, and forever out of his reach. 
Cunningly he determined to claim her for himself. 
Shrewdly he sought to out-guess Accacia, the sooth- 
sayer, whose side he now reached. Imparting the 
message from Carmenita, he waited. 

Accacia, sensing a solemn occasion, slowly ad- 
vanced toward the sorrowing chieftain, then paused. 
Shavano made a slight gesture. The counselor took 


courage. "Bear-Four-Paws brings to Shavano a mes- 
sage from the maiden, that Sit-by-the-Stream, wound- 
ed, hides from his paleface enemies in an old dugout.*' 
To keep the good will of Shavano, whom he had un- 
necessarily interrupted to appease Bear-Four-Paws, 
he added: 'The torches of the juniper wood bring 
the circle of fire closer to the maiden. Seven sleeps 
have passed and Sit-by-the-Stream has not come 

Shavano at first made no comment. "Let the 
worthy pine no longer keep the maiden against her 
will," he said at last. "Bear-Four-Paws shall ride 
with her. The night is long. Darkness is his protec- 
tor. Shavano will wait. Go, tell my warriors they 
will have many scalps for the life of Sit-by-the-Stream, 
and many more if Bear-Four-Paws does not return 
when the night is gone. Shavano has spoken." 

The savage spirit seemingly must triumph. So it 
fashioned itself. Bear-Four-Paws, through instinct, 
almost, felt the struggle, centered around Carmenita. 
Sit-by-the-Stream might win yet, if only in the spirit 
land, Bear-Four-Paws reasoned, as he rode away 
through the night with the white girl. 

Around the camp fire the Indians sat, idly watch- 
ing their hobbled ponies grazing. They had gathered 
after Bear-Four-Paws departed with Carmenita. 
Story telling was indulged. 'Tell us of the Valley of 
Shavano," suggested one of the younger warriors. 

"Accacia shall speak," replied Shavano, with a 
gesture of approval. The story, like all Indian re- 
citals, unfolded with the utmost detail and delibera- 
tion. It took hours to tell, and had to do with the ruins 
of cave dwellers in the Valley of Shavano, in the Un- 


compahgre River basin, near their tribal village, in 
what is now the Montrose country, several sleeps away. 
It was a narrative of smooth rock walls of sandstone, 
bearing inscriptions of an earlier race of people — some- 
thing of their history and romance, fully one thousand 
years before. 

The picture rocks told a tale of two chiefs, or 
clan leaders, who had fought to the death for the love 
of an Indian Princess. The Utes had named them 
Stone-Face and Little-Drum, rivals for the hand of 
Princess Corn-Tassel. 

As Little-Drum sank to his knees with an arrow 
piercing his breast, the Princess called out: "Remem- 
ber Corn-Tassel." Keeping his promise secretly agreed 
to beforehand, in case he lost, Little-Drum drew 
another arrow and sent it through her heart. She died 
in his arms, breaking the arrow as she collapsed. 

Now the harm lay not so much in the death of 
the rival clan leaders, but because of the untimely death 
of Princess Corn-Tassel. Maize, or corn, for which 
she was named, was the crop upon which the tribe 
depended for existence, along with the wild animals 
killed. So evil days came upon her troubled and super- 
stitious people. Crops withered, and the Cliff Dweller 
Indians, appeasing the wrath of the gods, moved else- 

The dejected little band wandered about hope- 
lessly for months. One morning to their joy they be- 
held the likeness of Princess Corn-Tassel, with out- 
spread arms, sketched in snow on the side of a moun- 
tain in the shadow of which a little valley broadened 
out. Regarding it as a sign from the Spirit of the Corn 
that this would be a fruitful place, the Indians made 


camp and put in a crop of maize. And so the gods 
smiled upon them, through the spirit of Princess Corn- 
Tassel. A bountiful harvest resulted in days of thanks- 
giving and festivities. 

It was at this point in the narrative that Shavano 
arose and walked some distance from them. Again 
the younger brave spoke: "But how comes the great- 
ness of our fearless Shavano?*' 

The sage related that symbol writings in the can- 
yon made trespassing doubly punishable. And so it 
happened that Shavano, openly defying the teachings 
of the tribal wise men, in his youth had laughingly en- 
tered the sacred sandstone canyon. Picking up the 
broken arrow, like that pictured in the hieroglyphics 
depicting the fate of Princess Corn-Tassel, he ex- 
plained that the spirit gods gave him a charmed life. 

And now in the eyes of the tribesmen his manito 
had failed him. But what of the teachings of the 
paleface missionaries by which he had sought to grasp 
the greater understanding? 

Tearing a woven feather necklace from about his 
neck, he threw the manito it held — the broken arrow 
found in the Valley of Shavano — to the ground. Ac- 
cacia saw but said nothing. Shavano crushed it under 
foot, even as the "Blue Flower" of his being, Sit-by- 
the-Stream, had been trampled in the dust. He was 
bent on challenging the wisdom of the white man's 
teachings. Wavering in fearful uncertainty, but hav- 
ing set his face to the West, arms outstretched, he 
cried : 

"Great Father of the paleface, whom my people 
know not, unless it is the same that brings to the Tabe- 
guaches the rain, and fills the air with sunshine, and 


talks with thunder, hear Shavano, war chieftain of the 
Utes. Let the talk of the paleface missionary come 
to pass with the rising sun. Bring back to life the 'Blue 
Flower.' Old leaves cover the tender plant in winter. 
Let the Great Father of the paleface restore Sit-by- 
the-Stream and take instead Shavano, who has watched 
through many moons and is ready to sit with those in the 
sky of the Great Spirit. Let the Great Father of the 
paleface speak to Shavano, who casts his manito from 
him. Shavano has spoken.** 

Raising his eyes, in the pink flush of early morn 
he beheld the outline of a figure in white. He saw in 
the connected snow patches for the first time a resem- 
blance to the angel in the illustrated tract the mission- 
ary had given him. 

Off there, indeed, was the resemblance of the 
picture book angel — in snow — on the side of Mount 
Shavano, his tribal hunting region. Could it be that 
the prophecies of the white man, like the legendary 
teachings of his own people, were veiled in wondrous, 
mysterious beliefs? It was an appeal for compassion 
— the revelation of understanding. He must spare the 
life of Carmenita, the White Dove. 

Before he could reveal his vision a shot rang out. 
Daylight disclosed Bear-Four-Paws, smoking gun in 
hand, riding with Carmenita. The object of his attack 
was a lone rider — a Tabeguache — Sit-by-the-Stream. 
Some distance behind the restored Indian whom Shav- 
ano at first believed to be only the restless, wandering 
spirit of the departed Sit-by-the-Stream, came noisy 
cowpunchers from Salida, the little frontier settlement 
a few miles distant. Sit-by-the-Stream rode toward 
Bear-Four-Paws hands lifted high, shouting the 


Indian word of friendship's welcome: Ha-o, meaning, 

For answer, the other Indian placed his gun on 
Carmenita's shoulder so as to get a better aim, and 
wildly deriding Sit-by-the-Stream, fired. The missile 
went wide of its mark as Carmenita, conscious of the 
aim, sprang from the horse, thrusting the gun out of 

Cowpunchers were closing in on Sit-by-the- 
Stream, who erroneously interpreted their menacing 
hostility. Carmenita's friends had reported the girl's 
disappearance. Across the shoulder of Sit-by-the- 
Stream was a strap that held a quiver of arrows and 
a bow. He rode directly toward Bear-Four-Paws, 
who was circling about the crouching Carmenita. 

Shavano, looking on from a distance, took hope 
when he saw the primitive weapon wherein his people 
excelled — the bow-and-arrow — used by Sit-by-the 
Stream on his avowed rival in love. Then consterna 
tion gripped him anew. 

Bear-Four-Paws, changing his tactics, instead 
pointed his gun at Carmenita. Shots from the cow- 
punchers, directed in the air, more to startle than harm, 
brought confusion as he tried to control his scared pony. 

An arrow sped on its winged way through the 
morning air — the whirr of death — and Bear-Four- 
Paws, mortally wounded, fell in a heap near the girl. 
The next minute Sit-by-the-Stream was riding toward 
the Continental barrier with Carmenita happily holding 
to him. 

Shavano picked up his manito and again placed 
it about his neck. Accacia was the only witness to 
the faltering faith of Shavano in its power. In the 


councils of his followers, Shavano was acknowledged 
to be a charmed warrior ranking close to their tribal 

The bluebell came back to life each spring, and 
Carmenita, the White Dove, became the squaw-wife 
of Sit-by-the-Stream. In his declining years vesper 
bells of Indian magic called Shavano. And the angelic 
figure, regarded by the other Indians as Princess Corn- 
Tassel, but by Shavano as also the angel which evi- 
denced to him the power of the white man's God, may 
be seen to this day in changing raiments of driven snow. 

Colorow Point, Overlooking Clear Creek Canyon, 
Denver Mountain Parks. 


OLOROW, renegade Ute, was restless. He 
longed again to assume the role of chieftain of 
a handful of his warring tribesmen. Freedom 
of roving in the wild Colorado Rockies had 
been denied him for some years. He reflected on his 
boasts to military officials that he would not remain in 
what he regarded as white man's captivity. They had 
moved his people, in 1881, to the Uintah Reservation 
in eastern Utah on account of the White River Agency 
massacre, Sept. 29, 1879, when Nathan C. Meeker, 
Indian agent, his assistants and Maj. T. T. Thorn- 
burgh, of Fort Steele, Wyoming, sent to rescue him, 
were killed at what is now the town of Meeker, in 
northwestern Colorado. Colorow helped to provoke 
the massacre. 

The years had dragged along, until, in 1887, the 
piercing cry of the wolf, qualities of which Colorow is 
said to have possessed, aroused the "bad Injun" in 
him. Emitting the penetrating wail of the coyote- 
wolf, until it seemed uncannily real, he publicly 
boasted of conquests in bygone years. This won for 
him new followers, and he led a score of them from 
the reservation one night, armed and carrying a large 
deer hide. 

Ever since the Utes had been ordered to forsake 
the White River country some of the sub-chiefs, includ- 
ing Colorow and Piah, claimed that their people had 
the right under the treaty to return every fall and 



hunt deer for the winter supply of meat and hides. 
This, then, was the excuse the band of rovers made 
when they encountered military authorities, although 
it was the least of their intentions. 

They reached the Meeker country about the time 
a handful of Cheyennes, likewise disobeying the gov- 
ernment mandate, neared the coveted territory. The 
Cheyennes, along with the Arapahoes, had been moved 
from Colorado to the Oklahoma country in 1 867. But 
scalp hunting was as popular as ever, and Yellow- 
Eagle, a Cheyenne brave, made it his life devotion. 
He had a purpose in wanting the scalp of one Ute in 

On this morning it looked as if his wish would not 
be in vain. Crawling on the ground, he kept in the 
bushes and occasionally spied on the enemy. Not far 
away a deer raised its antlered head from among the 
heavy brushwood. Yellow-Eagle, on his guard, real- 
ized that it was a trap. Now Colorow, whose face 
was in the deer head, left his followers in the rear, the 
idea being that he would attract the browsing deer, 
then suddenly lie flat on the ground to prevent being 
shot by his tribesmen. This was not an unusual prac- 

Secretly Colorow had another purpose. He had 
experienced a similar meeting, perhaps twenty years 
before. The untimely arrival of their respective fol- 
lowers prevented Yellow-Eagle and himself from 
fighting it out single-handed. Any way, Colorow did 
not like such methods, especially when indifference 
swayed him. But Yellow-Eagle threatened venge- 
ance at the time because he accused the Ute of having 
broken his sister's heart. 


Away back in the early '60s, Colorow, leading 
some carefree braves, through skillful tactics had re- 
ceived every hospitality for his followers for more than 
a month in the camp of the Cheyennes, on the plains 
east of where Denver now stands. The Utes and 
Cheyennes were bitter enemies, engaging in scalping 
parties without invitation or provocation. But Colorow 
had come as an emissary to get the Cheyennes to join 
his people in resenting alleged wrongs committed by 
the whites. It was only a ruse to get food, the Chey- 
ennes afterward learned. Colorow and his small band 
were hungry and weary. 

Moon-Flower, sister of Yellow-Eagle, attracted 
by the visiting chieftain, easily fell charm-captive to 
Colorow. In fact, an unusual inter-tribal admiration 
sprang up between them, and Yellow-Eagle, appar- 
ently unable to interfere, at last consented to their mar- 
riage. But the night before the ceremonies were to 
have been observed Colorow and his followers sneaked 
away, leaving Moon-Flower heartbroken and dis- 
graced in the eyes of her people. Yellow-Eagle swore 
vengeance. So the years passed. And now the en- 
emies again confronted each other. 

"PikeeP hissed Yellow-Eagle, the Cheyenne, 
which in the Ute language means, "Get out!" There- 
upon Colorow, in the deer head foil, knew it was his 
sworn enemy. 

Now the accustomed way for a Ute brave to ful- 
fill a love pact is to kill a deer and carry it on horse- 
back to his sweetheart. If she waters and feeds his 
horse it means she accepts the deer meat and the war- 


"Come, kill and carry me to Moon-Flower, and 
her charms will bring me back to life so I can marry 
her," Colorow howling, yelping, taunted the Cheyenne 
in response to the challenge. He was still a wolf, even 
in deer's covering. 

A shot rang out. The bullet hit one of the antlers 
of the deer mask and, deflecting, grazed Colorow's 
forehead. This enraged the Ute, who, with his fol- 
lowers advanced upon the Cheyennes. It was a battle 
to the death. 

In the following weeks the Cheyennes and the 
Utes fought for vantage points. They plundered the 
isolated homes of whites for food as they went. Saving 
their ammunition for a decisive engagement, they 
brought into play the bow-and-arrow. Each side had 
lost a number of braves before they reached the vicin- 
ity of what is now Lookout Mountain, in the Denver 
Mountain Parks. On a high plateau in the foothills 
of the Rocky Mountains, they took their stand. Colo- 
row Point, so designated, was a lookout station for the 
Utes, a place to which Colorow's outlaws were driven 
by strategy of the enemy. 

A band of Arapahoes, having conspired with 
Yellow-Eagle of the Cheyennes to avenge Moon- 
Flower's disgrace, lay in wait for the word to advance. 
Hemmed in, Colorow's braves were forced to the rocky 
point which today bears his name. There is an almost 
sheer drop of two thousand feet from Colorow Point 
into Clear Creek Canyon. Several slab-like pieces form 
a rocky throne which Colorow used in his councils, 
while his followers vainly summoned help by means 
of smoke signals by day and camp fires at night. 


On the third day Yellow-Eagle sent word that if 
Colorow would surrender himself his followers could 
go unmolested. The Cheyenne scarcely dared to hope 
that Colorow's followers would consent to this, as they 
knew it would mean death for their fearless leader. 
However, with apparent disloyalty and desertion they 
informed Yellow-Eagle that the Utes accepted his 

As the rising sun bathed the rocky crags in light, 
the Utes were assembled near the edge of the canyon 
and not far from the lookout point. Yellow-Eagle 
and his men took their stand expectantly, waiting for 
Colorow to come forth to them. Silently and without 
demonstration a lone figure separated itself from the 
little band of Utes and advanced toward the waiting 
enemy. Only the chirp of the awakening birds broke 
the stillness. 

Suddenly the Indian darted toward the projecting 
rock, paused a moment and lifted his arms high in the 
air. The Cheyennes, perceiving his intent, ran forward 
uttering cries of dismay. But too late. Out into space 
leaped the doomed Ute warrior rather than humiliate 
himself and his people by surrendering to a Cheyenne. 

Yellow-Eagle hurriedly wended his way to a pro- 
truding ledge near the bottom of the canyon, far below, 
where he scalped a battered, unrecognizable form. 
The features had been practically obliterated. Mean- 
while, the Utes were released. Colorow, their chief, 
had paid the supreme penalty. The victorious Chey- 
ennes departed. 


According to the Utes, Colorow died a natural 
death, in the following year (1888) on the Uintah 



Indian Reservation. His tribesmen, on being informed 
of the terms of the truce, decided to agree to the pro- 
posal of Yellow-Eagle in order to gain time for the 
execution of their plan. Colorow, endowed with 
the cunning of a wolf, had escaped in the night as 
his tribesmen played an exacting game of life and 
death. There was a strange gripping and measuring 
of hands in the circle around the glowing fire. The 
loser faced death. It was Piah, perhaps the worthiest. 
He had the shortest index finger. 

Overland Prairie Schooner, Epic of 
\ anishing Trails. 


OLORADO'S sunsets ablaze with molten gold 
were beheld with longing expectancy by eager 
Argonauts of the West for many days before 
they reached the Rocky Mountains. Some 
of the adventurers came in covered wagons, known 
as prairie schooners; others crossed the plains in the 
historic stage coach, which had its inception at Leaven- 
worth, Kansas, May 1, 1859, when Russell & Majors 
started an overland passenger and mail service to Den- 
ver by way of the Smoky Hill River course. The first 
coach arrived in Denver, May 7th, after six days and 
nights of continuous travel. It was known as the 
Leavenworth and Pikes Peak Stage and Express 
Company, and the fare from Leavenworth, including 
meals, was $100. 

Horace Greeley, celebrated editor of the New 
York Tribune, who in 1859 said "Go West, young 
man, go West!" after he had visited Colorado, did 
much toward the development of the Rocky Mountain 
region. On the way West he met Albert D. Richard- 
son of the Boston Journal and Henry Villard of the 
Cincinnati Commercial. They arrived in Denver, 
June 6th, by stage coach, and made a careful investi- 
gation to see if gold could be found in paying quanti- 
ties. The mails were carried by the overland stage 
as express matter at a charge of twenty-five cents for 
postage on each letter. The Express Office was lo- 
cated at what is now Fifteenth and Blake Streets. 

Indians held up stage coaches in the early '60s 
between Kansas and Nebraska points and Denver, and 



robbed the passengers and occasionally carried off the 
women and girls. Arapahoes surrounded Colorado 
City (now a part of Colorado Springs) in August, 
1868, but did not attack the town; instead, they con- 
tinued on the war path into South Park, where they 
encountered their enemies, the Utes. 

On April 3, 1860, Russell, Majors & Waddell 
started the famous Overland Pony Express through the 
Central Overland, California and Pikes Peak Express 
Company, between St. Joseph, Missouri, the end of 
the railroad and telegraph facilities, and San Francis- 
co, California. This service included Denver from a 
branch route leaving the great Overland Trail at Jules- 
burg, Colorado. The Pony Express was discontinued 
Oct. 7, 1861, with the completion of the transcontin- 
ental telegraph line. As the telegraphic facilities were 
not extended to Denver until two years later, the stage 
coach connection on the Julesburg branch of the Over- 
land Trail was operated between Brighton and Den- 
ver, a distance of about 20 miles, until that time. This 
is believed to have been the last of the overland stages. 

Col. William F. Cody, familiarly known as 
"Buffalo Bill," was the most famous of the pony ex- 
press riders, although Colorado contributed a number 
— among them Moore, James, Keatley, Donovan, 
Kelley, Rising, Boulton, Baughn, Cliff, Rand, Beatley 
and Haslam. Some of the names are carved in mar- 
ble in the lobby of the Denver Postomce. 

There were 1 90 stations, 420 horses, 400 station- 
men and assistants, and 80 riders in the equipment and 
service of the Pony Express, which maintained a 
schedule of ten days and nights for the 1 ,966 miles to 
the Pacific Coast. However, a record run was made 
in March, 1861, in the transmission of Lincoln's in- 


augural address from St. Joseph to San Francisco in 
7 days and 1 7 hours, and for the 665 miles from St. 
Joseph to Denver in 2 days and 2 1 hours. The ponies 
were changed at stations about every 1 miles, although 
the riders continued over courses of about 75 miles. 
The postal charge for a half-ounce letter delivered by 
Pony Express was at first $5 ; later, $ 1 . 

A revival of the Overland Pony Express in 1 923 
for one trip between St. Joseph and San Francisco, ex- 
cept that it followed in part the Victory Highway in- 
stead of the original trail, was observed in connection 
with the Mark Twain Memorial Association and the 
California Admission to the Union Celebration, at 
Tanforan Park, San Francisco, and to see if the record 
of 7 days and 1 7 hours could be beaten. The original 
Pony Express service was routed by way of Fort Lar- 
amie, Wyoming, and ended at Sacramento, California, 
from which point the mail pouch was forwarded to San 
Francisco by boat. 

The Pony Express Revival Race started at St. 
Joseph, Aug. 31, 1923. The mail pouch contained 
letters from Gov. Arthur M. Hyde of Missouri; Gov. 
Jonathan M. Davis of Kansas; Gov. William E. 
Sweet of Colorado ; Gov. Charles R. Mebey of Utah, 
Vice-President for that State of the Pony Express 
Celebration ; Gov. J. G. Scrugham of Nevada, as well 
as from Mayor Benjamin F. Stapleton of Denver, to 
Gov. F. W. Richardson of California, James D. Phe- 
lan, former United States Senator from California and 
President of the Pony Express Celebration, and 
Emmet D. Boyle of Carson City, former governor of 
Nevada, President of the Mark Twain Memorial As- 
sociation and Vice-President for Nevada of the Pony 
Express Celebration. And when the letters were de- 


livered by the last courier, September 9th, after allow- 
ing for the greater distance (228 miles) traveled in the 
1923 Revival Race, the record of the old-time riders 
had been beaten by approximately 42 hours. The 
actual running time was 6 days, 14 hours and 18 
minutes. The route lay through Missouri, Kansas, 
Colorado, Utah, Nevada, and California, and major 
celebrations were held at St. Joseph, Topeka, Denver, 
Salt Lake City, Reno, Sacramento and San Francisco. 
Among the others who actively participated in the 
affair were Charles Waddles, President of the Cham- 
ber of Commerce of St. Joseph and Vice-President for 
Missouri of the Pony Express Celebration; Harold S. 
Foster and A. E. Ueberrhein, Missouri; Ben Blow, 
Manager of the Victory Highway Association and J. 
H. Lee, Topeka; Dr. W. M. Jardine and Dan D. 
Casement, Manhattan; C. W. Lamer, Sahna; Burl 
Frazier, Wakeeney, and former Gov. W. R. Stubbs of 
Kansas, Vice-President for that State of the Pony 
Express Celebration; Dr. J. R. Dresser and J. E. 
Chostner, Kanorado; George Pruett, J. Fred Roberts, 
Joseph A. Shoemaker, Harry N. Burhans, Samuel F. 
Dutton, A. U. Mayfield and John T. Graham of Den- 
ver; Courtney Ryley Cooper and H. F. Nimmo, Idaho 
Springs; H. W. Leonard, Deer Trail; C. R. Camp- 
bell, Bennett; Robert W. Burton, Byers; C. M. Som- 
erville, Limon; O. A. Goetze, Golden; R. H. Glea- 
son, Hayden; H. B. Hendricks, Fraser; E. L. Harsh, 
and A. E. Straub, Jr., Hot Sulphur Springs; C. C. 
Eastin, Kremmling; George E. Steele, Steamboat 
Springs; George E. Guild, Craig, and H. B. Pleasant, 
Maybell, Colorado; T. Joe Cahill, Cheyenne; Preston 
G. Peterson, Utah; Dr. R. N. Mead and Frank B. 
Cook, Salt Lake City; E. H. Gardner, Payson, and 


Alonzo J. Stookey, Clover, Utah; Col. C. H. Moore 
and J. C. Durham, Reno; W. H. Goodin, Lovelock, 
Nevada; J. Selby Badt, Wells; James Russell, Deeth; 
John White, Beowawe; Don L. Cooper, Winnemuc- 
ca, and Neill West, Reno, Nevada; Maj. Gordon 
W. Lillie (Pawnee Bill) of Oklahoma, partner of 
Col. William F. Cody; Col. A. N. McClure, Sacra- 
mento; John S. Bryan and D. L. Millerick, Cali- 
fornia; William S. Tevis, Jr., Burlingame; Edgar D. 
Peixotto, J. Emmet Hayden, Angelo J. Rossi, Harvey 
M. Toy, Charles K. Field and Charles W. Fay of San 
Francisco; Earle Snell of Reno, Managing Director of 
the Celebration and Executive Secretary of the Mark 
Twain Memorial Association, and Hazen Cowan, As- 
sistant Executive Secretary, Glen Ellen, California. 

The 75 couriers who took part in the ride cov- 
ered a total of 2,194 miles. Robert Lee Shepherd 
started with the mail from St. Joseph at a telegraphic 
signal from Hon. Calvin Coolidge, President of the 
United States, at the White House in Washington, 
D. C. Among the riders in Kansas were Clarence 
Main, Johnnie Carter, Dr. J. W. Cook, E. W. Lee, 
Louis Collister, Jack Casement, John Collister, Leo 
Petit, Carlotta Lamer, Lowell Faulkner, Melvin 
Wheaton, Levi Schermerhorn, Milton Whe?ton, John 
Parker, Warrena Bowlby, Robert Crawford, Charles 
Welch, John Brewer, Gale Taylor, Guy Wigdon, 
Charles Berry, John Fenno, Fred Sussex, Johnnie 
Hixon, Fritz Bradley and Alvie Frazier. 

Carrying the mail pouch across Colorado were 
Tod Nettlefield and John Nettlefield; Verner Z. 
Reed, Jr., who rode through Denver (Sept. 3rd) over 
the stretch between Aurora and Golden ; Johnny Baker, 
foster-son of Colonel Cody and Vice-President for 


Colorado of the Pony Express Celebration, who 
paused a moment at the grave of the Indian fighter on 
Lookout Mountain, in the Denver Mountain Parks, to 
do honor to the old scout who carried the mail in 1 860 
when a boy of 1 5 ; Charles Tipton, Ralph Salisbury, 
Fred Salisbury and George Long, reaching the Utah 
state line by way of Steamboat Springs and Craig. 

Myrtel Gardner carried the mail pouch for ten 
miles into Salt Lake City. Other riders in Utah in- 
cluded Lester Gardner, Nick Kilhan, Denzil Gardner, 
Ray Elmer, Lincoln Stookey, Enos Stookey, Paul 
Stookey, Ellis Orme, Nina McAuley, Lawrence 
Sharp, Sidney Clark, Roy Brown, Raleigh Johnson, 
Milan Johnson and Willard Calhster. 

Among the riders in Nevada were Ruth Wise- 
man, James Dewar, Ray Barber, Mabel Weber Blair, 
Georgia Grayson Hinckley, Knud Nelson, Al Holt, 
Reed Hopkins, Chaska West, Clyde Light and Gard- 
ner Sheehan. 

The longest continuous ride without a regular rest 
period in the history of the Overland Pony Express was 
made by the youthful Cody, who rode for 322 miles 
in an emergency. 

Not all of the prospectors and adventurers of 
pioneer times were men. Women played their part 
in the early struggles in the West. Take Marie Delay. 
She drove her four-mule freight schooner over the 
Smoky Hill Trail into Denver in the '60s, for Russell, 
Majors & Waddell, of Leavenworth. Swinging a 
"bullwhip" and encountering Indians, the prairie jour- 
ney ended when her covered wagon careened down 
what is now Park Avenue. 

Mme. Marie Delay had been thrown upon her 
own resources, as a widow, in Nemaha County, Neb., 


at tile age of 24. She had pre-empted a quarter sec- 
tion of land, and learned to swing an axe with the best 
of frontiersmen. After three or four years, adventure 
again beckoned. She continued the journey, pushing 
westward, alone, but dreaming of the boyhood sweet- 
heart left behind in a lonely grave on the frontier — her 
youthful husband, whose roseate word-pictures came 
back in memory and enthralled her just as they had on 
the honeymoon to America. 

Continuing from Denver to Central City, she 
staked out a claim. One day she was apprised of the 
fact that a "claim jumper" was digging in her shaft. 
Strapping a large six-shooter to her waist she rode on 
horseback to the claim and shouted down the shaft: 
"Come up, or I'll bury you there!'* The trespasser 
quit digging. 

Mme. Marie Delay died in 1 920, in an old chat- 
eau at Chaumont en Bassigny, in the Haute Marne, 
France, at the age of 84. She was the Marie Delay 
of the mad rush in the quest for gold at Central City 
and Black Hawk more than fifty years before. She 
had sold her Colorado interests in 1905 for $20,000, 
and returned to her native village in France, rich in 
gold but richer in golden memories. 

Many of the old stage coach and Pony Express 
roads and trails, as well as the winding trails of Indians 
and pioneers, have been perpetuated in ribbons of shin- 
ing steel or widened into transcontinental automobile 
highways. The Central Overland, California and 
Pikes Peak Express Company, the California Over- 
land Mail, and Holladay's Overland Mail Stage, a 
branch of which served Denver from Julesburg ( known 
as the California Crossing), virtually terminated their 


careers with the completion of the Union Pacific and 
the Central Pacific Railroads and the advent of the 
Wells-Fargo Express Company. 

The Smoky Hill Trail from Kansas lives again 
in the Union Pacific Highway, and the old California 
Overland Mail in the Lincoln Highway. Berthoud 
Pass, now on the transcontinental route of the Victory 
Highway, passing through Denver, was surveyed in 
1863 by Capt. E. L. Berthoud during the gold min- 
ing excitement in Middle Park, while the old Ute Trail 
west out of Colorado Springs, through Ute Pass, 
marks the route of the Pikes Peak Ocean-to-Ocean 

The historic Santa Fe Trail (National Old Trails 
Road), oldest of them all, linking Bent's Fort on the 
Arkansas River (1826) with the Commercial Street 
of today in Trinidad, marks the course from Kansas 
City, of the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad. 
Regular wagon freighting trips overland to Santa Fe, 
New Mexico, were begun by Mexicans in 1846, after 
Maj. George C. Sibley had located a route (at that 
time along the U. S. boundary) afterward known as 
the Santa Fe Trail. Pack horse freighting trips were 
carried on intermittently between Missouri River points 
and Santa Fe as early as 1822. 

Fifteenth Street in Denver was once the beaten 
trail of fur hunters between Bent's Fort, Colorado, and 
Fort Laramie, Wyoming. Arapahoe Indians often 
camped among the white settlers in West Denver in the 
early '60s for protection against the Utes, who stealth- 
ily lay in waiting in the South Platte River bottoms. 



Pikes Peak is the best known mountain in America. It is in 
EI Paso County and has an elevation of 14,109 feet — almost 3 
miles above sea level. The summit is perhaps higher above its 
base (nearly lV£ miles) than any other peak in Colorado, despite 
the fact that there are 26 higher mountains in the State, among 
them Mount Elbert, the highest, 14,420 feet; Mount Evans, 14,259 
feet, and Longs Peak, 14,255 feet above sea-level. 

The peak was named for Capt. Zebulon Montgomery Pike, 
who first beheld it Nov. 15, 1806. Believing it impossible for man 
to reach the summit, he abandoned the attempt, Nov. 27th, on 
reaching the top of what is now called Cheyenne Mountain (9,560 

Dr. Edwin James, geologist and historian of Long's expedi- 
tionary party, was the first white man to scale Pikes Peak, July 
14, 1820. He also discovered the famous medicinal springs at 
Manitou, at the foot of Pikes Peak. Indians believed that the 
bubbling in these springs was caused by the breath of Gitchy 
Manitou, their Great Spirit. 

On July 15, 1820, Major Long gave the name of 'James" to 
Pikes Peak, but so great was Pike's popularity among the traders 
and trappers that they persisted in calling it Pikes Peak. Doctor 
James' name has been given to another peak in the Continental 
Divide — James Peak — the mountain through which the Moffat 
Tunnel is being bored on the Denver & Salt Lake Railroad out of 

Mrs. Anna A. Holmes, a member of the Lawrence, Kan., 
party that founded "Montana City" (now a part of Denver), was 
the first known white woman to scale Pikes Peak, Juiy 7, 1858. 
She was in a group led by Frank M. Cobb. 

Zebulon Montgomery Pike was born at Lamberton, New Jer- 
sey, Jan. 5, 1779. He had attained the rank of Brigadier General 
at the time of his death early in our last war with England, suf- 
fering fatal injuries, April 27, 1813, while leading the victorious 
assault on the British town of York (Toronto), Canada. 

The top of Pikes Peak is reached by either the steam or the 
gasoline route. A carriage road was built to the summit in 1873. 
The Manitou & Pikes Peak Cog Railway, completed Oct. 20, 1890, 
winds for about 9 miles (46,992 feet) to the summit from Manitou 
(elevation 6,442 feet), with an average grade of 16 per cent and 
a maximum of 25 per cent. In this distance it ascends 7,525 feet. 

The Pikes Peak Auto Highway, which extends from Colorado 
Springs, 6 miles east of Manitou, to the summit of the peak, a 



distance of 30 miles, was opened in July, 1916. It has an average 
grade of 7 per cent and a maximum of 10% per cent, and the 
driveway is more than 20 feet wide at its narrowest point. 

Colorado Springs has an elevation of 6,038 feet. It was 
founded July 31, 1871, by Gen. William J. Palmer of Philadelphia. 
Colorado City, now a part of Colorado Springs, was the first 
Territorial Capital of Colorado. The Legislature held a four-day 
session there in 1862 in a log structure that is still standing. Colo- 
rado City was founded Aug. 12, 1859, and annexed to Colorado 
Springs June 10, 1917. 

The Cave of the Winds, supposed to have been one hundred 
thousands years in forming, is a series of underground chambers 
connected by narrow passageways resplendent with stalactites, 
stalagmites, and other delicately crystallized formations. 

The Seven Falls of South Cheyenne Creek are in a mighty 
granite cleft in Cheyenne Mountain used by the Utes as a retreat 
from the warring Arapahoes and Sioux. They have a combined 
drop of 350 feet and there are 287 steps in the stairs leading to 
the top of the falls. 

These leaping waters were immortalized by Helen Hunt 
Jackson, whose vivid imagination also supplied names for many of 
the queer formations in the Garden of the Gods. 


Mesa Verde is in the southwest corner of Colorado, in Mon- 
tezuma County. In this area of 77 square miles are located the 
most notable and best preserved prehistoric cliff dwellings in 
the United States, if not in the world, in the estimation of Stephen 
T. Mather, Director of the National Park Service at Washington, 
1). C. Under his direction the ruins have been scientifically ex- 
cavated and studied, recent explorations indicating evidences 
of habitation by the Basket-Makers there as long ago, possibly, as 
1,000 years before the birth of Christ. The "Mesa Verde" was 
BO named by the Spaniards, meaning "Green Table," and re- 
ferred to the verdant tablelands of juniper and pinon between the 
many side canyons of the Mancos River. 

The earliest notice of ruins in southwestern Colorado comes 
from an entry in the journal of Padre Silvestre Velez de Escalante, 
who, in 1776, came upon three ruins on the bend of the Dolores 
River, practically within sight of the Mesa Verde, while searching 
with his followers for a possible direct route from Santa Fe, New 
Mexico, to Monterey, California, the land of Spanish missions. 

In 1874, W. H. Jackson and Prof. W. H. Holmes of the Hay- 
den U. S. Geological Survey discovered, photographed and re- 
ported on several small ruins in the Mancos Canyon. Cliff Pal- 
ace, the largest ruin in the Park, was found by the Wetherill 
brothers, in December, 1888, while hunting for lost cattle. It is 
located in a sandstone cave 300 feet long and 50 to 100 feet high, 


the cave floor being several hundred feet above the bottom of a 
spur of Cliff Canyon. This communal structure contained more 
than 200 terraced rooms and many underground ceremonial cham- 
bers. These early discoveries led to the extensive exploration of 
the Mesa Verde and the location of a great many major ruins. 
Baron Gustav Nordenskiold, the talented Swedish explorer, took 
an active part in the excavations in the early '90s, and his pub- 
lication, "The Antiquities of the Mesa Verde," is the finest mono- 
graph on the early discoveries in Mesa Verde National Park. 

Mesa Verde was created a national park by Congressional 
Act of June 29, 1906, and the boundaries extended by Act of 
June 30, 1913, embracing an area of 48,966 acres. The mesa itself 
is about 15 miles long and 8 miles wide, and the highest point has 
an elevation of 8,575 feet above sea-level. The establishment of 
this Park for the preservation and protection of these remarkably 
preserved ruins is largely due to the efforts of the various mem- 
bers of the Colorado Cliff Dwellings Association, which was or- 
ganized for that purpose. 

A small and inadequate museum has been maintained at the 
Park for the display of the comprehensive collections of the early 
cultures of the Mesa Verde, and the new Park Museum, a gift of 
Mrs. Stella M. Leviston, noted traveler and lecturer of San Fran- 
cisco, has made it possible to install and exhibit much material 
which heretofore it has been impossible to display. This building, 
an adaptation of the early Pueblo Indian type, has been erected 
under the supervision of Jesse L. Nusbaum, Park Superintendent, 
who has taken an active interest in the Park since 1905, being a 
member of the expedition that helped to define and set aside the 
limits and the ruins to be included in the Park. 

The New Fire House is one of the most interesting cliff ruins 
in the Park. Facts brought to light in 1920 when it was excavated, 
point to the theory that it was consecrated to the ancient worship 
of fire by the Fire Cult. Fire was kept burning continuously in 
the central fire pit within the house. It is presumed that this fire 
was kept burning throughout the year, then extinguished to make 
way for the "New Fire," which was kindled under the direction of 
the principals of the Fire Cult, known as the Elder Fire-god and 
the Younger Fire-god. Elaborate dances and rites marked the 
sacred ceremony of the "New Fire." 

Of equal importance is the ceremonial building of sandstone 
known as Sun Temple, built on top of the tableland, and which 
was excavated in 1915 by Dr. J. Walter Fewkes, Chief of the 
Bureau of Ethnology, Smithsonian Institution. Much of the pop- 
ularity of the Mesa Verde is due to the fact that Dr. Fewkes for 
a period of years engaged in the excavation and repair of ruins 
thereon, giving evening camp fire talks on the past inhabitants 
and their work. These informal camp fire talks, now given by 
the Park Superintendent, Park Rangers and visiting scientists, 


form one of the most enjoyable educational activities of the Na- 
tional Park Service. 

Passenger service over the Denver & Rio Grande Western 
Railroad ends at Mancos, Colo., the Park Postoffice, the trip to 
the Park being completed by a 28-mile automobile ride. The At- 
chison, Topeka ft Santa Fe System provides rail service to Gallop, 
New Mexico, with a 200-mile automobile ride from that point to 
the Park, largely through the Navajo and Pte Indian Reservations. 

Mesa Verde National Park is open to visitors from Mav 15th 
to November 1st, and rangers conduct all parties to and through 
the various ruins without charge. 


Arapahoe Glacier, the largest in the Boulder Glacier region, 
i- i mile wide, three-quarters of i mile l<>ng and from 50 to 

feet thick. This glacial river mOTCS 27% feet I year, and is the 
source of Boulder'» water Supply. Other ice-tields in the group 
are Isabel, Fair, Peck, Huberts and St. Yrain (ilaciers, 10 the Colo- 
rado and Arapaho e) National Forests. The altitude of Arapabo(e) 
Peak iv IS,S ' feet, and of the CltJ of Boulder 5,349 feet. 

rainal Lake, known to the Indians long agoasGreaf Spirit 
Pake, M oarned because its wa( nally d ired, 

leaving in immense ice grotto at the edge oi Arapahoe Glacier. 

The mysterioui draining of the water ll fast as it could form from 
the melting glaciei was regarded as little ihod oi the uoik of the 
it S p i lit. In 1 'J J J | similar draining of Morainal Lake oc- 
curred for the first time in mam \earv leaving I huge cavern for 
I Dumber of weeks. The water presumably finds its n ;iv just the 
same to ,i chain of lakes below the glacier. 

Spotted white horses, whose predecesson are » ; ,i,| to have 

from ( expedition in 1541. roam the 

plateaui and mountain valleys in northwestern Colorado. An 

unusual experience is the pack trip out of Sunbeam (Modal 
County), to Mcht. if possible, the last of these wild, spirited 
charger^ that apparently cannot be caught. 


Luis Y le Alvaralo known slso a> M de Al- 

varado), according to records, led the ragged remnant of the 
Spanish troops of the expedition of Hernando de Soto (known al- 
so as Ferdinand de Soto) far into the northern lands of New- 
Spain soon after Cor' lOUghfl Quivira, while other accounts 
describe his journey to the Sangre de Cristo (Blood of Christ) 
Range before turning toward Mexico. 

William Wood Seymour, in "The Cross in History, Traditon 
and Art," says: "Leading truths of the primeval religion may be 
traced through the principal pagan mythologies; and a symbol 


(The Cross) of the fundamental article of the Christian creed and 
hope has been recognized in the very earliest records of antiquity." 

The Mount of the Holy Cross (Eagle County) has an eleva- 
tion of 13,978 feet. The deep ravine forming the upright section 
of the crotl II 2,000 feet, in which snows drift to a depth of 50 
or 60 feet; while the transverse ridge forming the arms, is 800 
feet across. Nearby, fashioned from the driven snows, is the 
Supplicating Virgin, and at her feet is a body of water known as 
the Howl of Tears. 

The United States Forest Service, by Proclamation of the De- 
partment of Agriculture, Oct. 28, 1922, had 350 acres set aside 
in the Holy Crotl National Forest for recreative, educational and 
devotional purposes. It is near the head of Turkey Creek, in a 
region exemplifying the nature-carved symbol of Christianity as 
the instrument on which Christ was crucified, and is intended for 
the devotional uses of all religious denominations. 

An international pilgrimage is proposed for the summer of 
1925, starting from New York City and San Francisco, over the 
designated Holj Croil Trail, leading to Shrine Pass (elevation 
11,100 feet). Special rites days will be observed in sight of the 
snow cross, iomc twelve miles distant. Usually the snow cross is 
at its best about July 16th, the date upon which the Emperor Con- 
stantine of Koine is regarded as having seen a fier\ cross in the 
heavens, Which converted him to Christianity. 

Plans fol such a religious celebration and anniversary cere- 
monial of world-wide significance, concluding with the dedication 
of a proposed Shrine, are being formulated for July 16, 1925, by 
the Mount of the Holy Cross Association. The Reverend Father 
J. P. Carrigan of Glenwood Springs, former pastor of St. Pat- 
rick's Chinch in Denver, is the leader in the movement growing 
out of his suggestion, that the Mount of the Holy Cross be set 
aside as a religious shrine. 

Gore Range was named for a British nobleman, Sir George 
Gore, \n1io hunted in the Colorado Rockies from 1855 to 1857. 


Rocky Mountain National Park lies in Boulder, Larimer and 
Grand Counties, in north-central Colorado, about 70 miles north 
of Denver. This Park, the most accessible of the large national 
parks and the nearest to the big centers of population, was es- 
tablished and enlarged by Congressional Acts approved Jan. 26, 
1915, and Feb. 14, 1917. Situated in the heart of the Rockies, its 
area Is 397*/2 square miles or 254,327 acres, and encloses about 
29 miles of the Continental Divide. 

There are 46 peaks in the Park of an elevation of 11,000 feet 
or more. Longs Peak, the highest, has an elevation of 14,255 feet 
above sea-level and has a great, square, granite head. Mount 
Meeker and Mount Lady Washington flank it, and geologists say 
that glacial action made these three mountains out of one. 


Indians had an eagle trap on the summit of Longs Peak long 
before the coming of the white man. French trappers called the 
peak Les deux Oreilles (Two Ears). Later it was named for 
Maj. Stephen Harriman Long who, while on an exploring ex- 
pedition, first saw it June 30, 1820, but who never got any nearer 
to it than the South Platte River. Major Long was born Dec. 30, 
1784, at Hopkinton, New Hampshire, and died Sept. 4, 1864, 
at Alton, Illinois. 

It is generally supposed that the first white men to climb Longs 
Peak were Maj. John Wesley Powell (born March 24, 1834, Mount 
Morris, N. Y. ; died Sept. 23, 1902, Haven, Me.), L. W. Keplinger, 
Samuel Gorman, Ned E. Ferrell, John C. Sumner and William 
Newton Byers. They reached the summit of Longs Peak from 
the south side on Aug. 23, 1868. Major Powell later explored the 
Colorado River. Byers Peak (elevation 12,778 feet) in Grand 
County is named for Mr. Byers, who was born Feb. 22, 1831, at 
West Jefferson, Ohio, and died in Denver March 25, 1903. He 
was the founder of Denver's oldest newspaper, The Rocky 
Mountain Neiis, first published on April 23, 1859. 

The first white woman to scale Longs Peak is said to have 
been Mill Anna Elizabeth Dickinson (born Oct. 28, 1842, Phila- 
delphia). In September, 1871, she accompanied the United States 
Geological Survey expedition of Ferdinand Vandiveer Hayden 
to the summit. Her name is perpetuated in Mount Dickinson (ele- 
vation 11,874 feet), about 15 miles north of Longs Peak. 

Rev. E. J. Lamb, the first regular guide on Longs Peak, made 
his first ascent in August, 1871. On the return trip he descended 
the precipitous east side, which drops abruptly 2,455 feet to 
Chasm lake, near the foot of a sheer precipice. This feat was 
but once equalled — by En.)- A. Mills, in June, 1903. The east 
Mile precipice, however, was scaled for the first time Sept. 7, 1922, 
by Prof. James W. Alexander of Princeton University. 

Big Thompson Canyon, one of the approaches to Rocky Moun- 
tain National Park, was named for David Thompson, an English 
engineer and astronomer in the employ of the Northwest Fur 
Company. He established trappers' camps in 1810 on the Big 
Thompson and Little Thompson Rivers, so named by his trappers, 
and on the Cache la Poudre River. It is quite possible that he 
was the first white man who looked upon what is now known as 
Estes Park, in following the Big Thompson to its source. 

Among the other approaches to the Park are the canyons of 
the North and South St. Wain Creeks, named for Ceran de St. 
Vrain, the brother of Palette de St. Vrain of Fort Lupton fame 
and associate of the Bent brothers who in 1826 established a trad- 
ing post on the Arkansas River within the present State of Colo- 

The distance by automobile from Denver to Rocky Mountain 
National Park varies from 70 miles to 97 miles, according to the 
route chosen in reaching the village of Estes Park (elevation 7,547 


feet) at the eastern entrance. The distance by way of the North 
St. Vrain Canyon is 70 miles; by the Big Thompson Canyon, 
86 miles; by the South St. Vrain Canyon, 87 miles, and by Boulder 
Canyon through Nederland, 97 miles. 

Rocky Mountain National Park is connected with Mesa Verde 
National Park and 10 others throughout the West by the National 
Park-to-Park Highway, a scenic thoroughfare 6,350 miles in length, 
approved by the Department of the Interior, Hubert Work, Sec- 
retary, and by the National Park Service, Stephen T. Mather, 
Director. Gus Holm's, of Cody, Wyo., Managing Secretary, is in 
charge of the Highway Association headquarters in Denver. 

Estes Park Village, at the eastern entrance to Rocky Moun- 
tain National Park, takes its name from Joel Estes, a trapper 
from Missouri, who first entered the region in the fall of 1859. 
He and his wife settled there in 1860, being the first white settlers. 
They remained until 1866. 

There is no direct rail connection with Rocky Mountain Na- 
tional Park or with Estes Park Village, where the Park headquar- 
ters are maintained. Leaving the Union Pacific or Colorado Sc 
Southern train at Fort Collins, or the Colorado & Southern train 
at Loveland, one proceeds by automobile through Big Thompson 
Canyon to the Park; or leaving the Burlington train at Lyons or 
the Colorado & Southern train at Longmont, motor through either 
North or South St. Vrain Canyons; or leaving the Colorado & 
Southern train or the Denver & Interurban electric line (Kite 
Route) at Boulder, motor through Boulder Canyon and over the 
Glacier High Line, or through the North or South St. Vrain Can- 
yons, to Estes Park Village. The Rock Island and Santa Fe Rail- 
roads also make connections at Denver for Rocky Mountain Na- 
tional Park. 

Grand Lake (elevation 8,369 feet) the western entrance to the 
Park, is 110 miles from Denver, by direct journey westward 
through Idaho Springs and Granby in an automobile, or 99 miles 
over the Denver & Salt Lake Railroad (Moffat Road) to Granby, 
and 16 miles from there by auto stage, totaling 115 miies. Grand 
Lake likewise is reached on a circle trip of 236 miles by automobile 
from Denver to Estes Park Village and across the Continental 
Divide in Rocky Mountain National Park by way of Fall River 
Road, in a government-regulated service the licensed operator of 
which is The Rocky Mountain Parks Transportation Company. 
The return trip includes Idaho Springs and the Denver Mountain 
Parks. Tickets may be purchased at any railroad ticket office in 
the United States for the trip through Rocky Mountain National 
Park, and this Company's automobiles make connections with all 

Beyond Chasm Falls, on the Fall River Road, is a skyline 
stretch of automobile road, almost 3 miles in length, which is rhe 
loftiest scenic course of its kind anywhere. The highest point 


is reached at Fall River Pass, 11,797 feet above sea-level. Near 
this Pass the historic and romantic Ute Trail, so named for the 
Indian path along the top of Trail Ridge, touches the crests of 
peaks and maintains an altitude throughout of from 11,400 feet to 
12,277 feet elevation. It is about 7 miles long, joining Fall River 
Road at an elevation of 11,524 feet, at a point where it starts the 
descent to Poudre Lakes. Fall River today is spanned by a rus- 
tic foot bridge at Chasm Falls. 

The Estes Park Woman's Club, comprising more than 100 
members, donated about an acre of ground in Estes Park Village 
as the site for a new administration building for Rocky Moun- 
tain National Park. The land was accepted by a Special Act 
of Congress, introduced by Congressman Charles B. Timberlake 
of Colorado, and the building completed and occupied by the 
National Park Service Oct. 5, 1923. 

Rocky Mountain National Park is open all the year. The 
summer travel season is observed from June 15th to October 1st, 
and the winter season from January 15th to April 15th. 

The Superintendent of the Park is Roger W. Toll, whose com- 
pilation, "Mountaineering in the Rocky Mountain National Park,'' 
has been published by the Department of the Interior and has 
helped many Park victors to find the hidden beauties of valley 
and peak. An engineering graduate, he is also an enthusiast 
regarding the mountainous regions of Colorado, and is a member 
of the American Alpine Club and a charter member of the Colo- 
rado Mountain Club. 


Fort LuptOO i s 26 miles north of Denver, on the east side of 
the South Platte River. The crumbling ruins of the trading post 
are on the Fort Lupton Ranch of Harry H. Ewing, on the west 

of the Denver-Greeley Highway a little distance north of the 

town. St. Wain's log stockade is gone. 

The combat between Lupton and St. Vrain for the love of 
Touch-the-Sky was witnessed, among others, by William Gerry 
and Mariana Modena. St. Vrain and one of his seconds were 
buried on the banks of the Platte. Their graves were seen as late 
as 1863. Soon thereafter flood waters cut deep into the river bank 
and washed away the graves. 

Touch-the-Sky was buried in the adobe fort, which afterward 
assumed the proportions of a fortress when as many as 25 families 
took shelter there during the Indian troubles. 

Lupton, morose and inconsolable, disappeared in 1842. Gerry 
and Modena thereupon maintained "squatters' rights" to the land 
containing the fort, selling it in 1859 to Mark Mills, who was 
killed by the Indians shortly thereafter. Succeeding owners in- 
cluded A. J. Williams, Charles Blake, H. T. Monson and David 
W- Ewing. 



French Canadians, prospecting for gold, camped near the 
present site of Fort Collins as early as 1842. In fact, an expedition 
of 45 French-Canadian trappers had preceded them in 1816, when 
"beaver skins were ready money." They came in the interests 
of the American Fur Company, organized by John Jacob Astor. 
In 1858 the community of "Colona" was established by the 
Provost Colony (headed by John B. Provost) with 14 persons 
from Fort Laramie, Wyoming, shortly before the nearby com- 
munity, La Porte (The Gate), was founded. 

One of the members of the Provost Colony was Elbridge Gerry, 
who soon afterward became one of the first merchants in Denver. 
He was the grandson of one of the signers of the Declaration of 
Independence — Elbridge Gerry, delegate from Massachusetts Bay 
Colony. Gerry married an Indian. His "boiled shirt" acquain- 
tances in the East were shocked at his continuing to live with her, 
especially after white women had reached the Rocky Mountains. 
He wrote back: "I married her when there wasn't a white 
woman within a thousand miles. My wife and my children are 
as dear to me as those of any man, and I will die a thousand 
deaths rather than desert them." 

The first known white settler to permanently locate in Larimer 
County was Antoine Janis, a native of Missouri, who, June 1, 
1844, pitched his tent near the present site of La Porte (Laporte). 
He afterward established a trading post, remaining until 1878. 

Early in the great Indian wars of the '60s, a military post was 
established on the Cache la Poudre River, 4 miles southeast of 
La Porte. This outpost was named Fort Collins, for Lieut. Col. 
William O. Collins, of the 11th Ohio Regiment of Volunteer 
Cavalry, a part of which was among the troops sent West to 
subdue the Indians. French-Canadian settlers, attacked by Indians 
near the present site of Belleview, seeing they were outnumbered, 
dug a hole and hid their powder and supplies. Those who es- 
caped came back and recovered their possessions. Thus the near- 
by river, Cache la Poudre, meaning "hide the powder," got its 

Ouray was born at Taos, New Mexico, in 1833. His name, in 
Ute, signifies "The Arrow." His relations with the United States 
Government date from Oct. 7, 1863, in the treaty made by the 
Tabeguaches at Conejos, Colo., signing his name "U-ray, or 
Arrow." Chief Ouray's only son was captured by the Kiowas in 
June, 1863, who surprised a hunting camp of Utes in the foothills 
northwest of Fort Lupton. The tiny papoose was never recovered; 
in fact, only indirectly heard of afterward by Ouray, who died 
Aug. 24, 1880, at Los Pinos Indian Agency, Colo., near the town 
(Ouray) named for him. Chipeta, his squaw, born in 1842, was 
still living May 6, 1921, on the Uintah-Ouray Reservation in Utah. 



Shavano peak is about twenty miles northwest of Salida, in 
Chaffee County, and has an elevation of 14,179 feet. The snow 
angel is three-quarters of a mile high with outstretched wings a 
half-mile across, and is formed by the packing of the snow into 
deep ravines on the mountainside, sometimes to a depth of 40 feet. 

Uncompahgre, in the Ute language, signifies "hot water 

Following the massacre at White River Agency in 1879, 
Shavano conducted an escort for Gen. Charles Adams from 
Ouray's camp (Southern Ute Agency) to rescue the women cap- 
tives. With Shavano were Sapovanero and Young Chief Colorow 
— not the celebrated renegade chieftain — and ten Ute warriors. 
He brought Miss Josephine Meeker and the others safely to 
Ouray's camp. 

Salida in Spanish signifies "Outlet." 


Colorow wftl not a hereditary chief. As a renegade among 
the White River Utes he exerted considerable influence in leading 
for a time a roving band of the younger Indian braves. He often 
(imped in the South Platte bottoms, just across the river from the 
mouth of Cherry Creek, a few block* from the present site of the 
Denver Union Station. 

Colorow was treacherous by nature, and pioneers say he had 
the mixed qualities of a wolf and a coyote. During an alterca- 
tion between Colorow and Edward Moody McCook, Territorial 
Gorernor, the Cte, Mfnewltat under the influence of liquor, in- 
terrupted Governor McCook'l explanation of a refusal to supply 
Colorow*! bravo with government tents and guns. After re- 
peated interruptions, GorerOOI McCook threw him out of the office 
and ignominiouilj kicked him down the stairs, to the consterna- 
tion of Colorow*! followers. 

The White River Agency trouble resulted in the massacre of 
the following: Nathan C. Meeker, the government agent, and 
William H. Pott, his assistant; Frank Dresser, Harry Dresser, 
E. W. Eskridge, E. Price, Fred Shepard, George Eaton, W. H. 
Thompson and E. L. Mansfield. 

After the treaty of 1S80, in which the White River Utes were 
moved to the Uintah Reservation, in Utah, Indian sub-chiefs re- 
turned to Colorado to hunt deer. In 1887 Colorow's roving band 
resisted arrest by authorities of Garfield County. Colorado State 
troops were called out, and seven Indians and three white men 
killed. Colorow died Dec. 11, 1888, at the mouth of the White 
River, Utah. 

Colorow Point is on Lookout Mountain, overlooking Clear 
Creek Canyon, not far from Buffalo Bill's grave in the Denver 


Mountain Parks. Gold in Colorado was first discovered in mar- 
ketable quantities in Clear Creek, Jan. 7, 1859, by George A. 
Jackson, near its confluence with Chicago Creek, at Idaho Springs. 

Denver erected Pahaska Tepee, an artistic memorial log mu- 
seum, on Lookout Mountain (elevation 7,342 feet), for Col. 
William F. Cody, better known as "Buffalo Bill." The distin- 
guished scout was nicknamed "Buffalo Bill' because he killed 4,300 
buffaloes in 18 months (1867-8) for the builders of the Union 
Pacific Railroad for meat in their construction camps. Buffalo 
Bill's grave is 19 miles from Denver. 

The rustic museum contains Colonel Cody's relics and is in 
charge of Johnny Baker, his foster-son. The body of the famous 
scout, called "Pahaska" by the Sioux Indians, meaning "long 
hair," rests nearby in a rocky grave. The crypt also contains 
the remains of his wife, Louisa Frederici Cody (died in Cody, 
Wyo., Oct. 20, 1921), who shared his hardships of early days and 
helped to perpetuate his memory, historically, as the personifica- 
tion of the Old West. 

William Frederick Cody was born in Scott County, Iowa, 
Feb. 26, 1845. As a scout in the Sioux War of 1876, he killed 
and scalped Yellow Hand, Cheyenne chief, in a personal combat 
during the battle of Indian Creek. He organized the celebrated 
Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, and was received by, and gave 
special performances for, the royalty of England. He died in 
Denver, Jan. 10, 1917. 

Denver, by a Charter Amendment adopted May 21, 1912, fol- 
lowed by an Amendment to the Constitution of the State authorized 
through a Special Act of the Colorado Legislature April 13, 1913, 
was the first to establish and develop a system of park areas en- 
tirely outside the limits of a municipality. These wild, romantic 
spots in the Rockies, known as the Denver Mountain Parks, begin 
at Golden (designated in 1862 as the second Territorial Capital) 
12 miles from Denver and are connected by 100 miles of splendid 
automobile highways many of which once were moccasin-winged 
trails of the Utes. There are in all 19 park areas with a total of 
5,030 acres. 

On Genessee Mountain, also within the system of Denver 
Mountain Parks, is the only municipal mountain game preserve 
in the United States. This tract embraces 600 acres and contains 
elk, deer, buffalo, mountain sheep and antelope. They may be 
seen from the driveway. 

On the way to the snow-crested divisional watersheds of the 
Atlantic and Pacific Oceans is Echo Lake (altitude 10,600 feet), 
another of the areas in the system of Denver Mountain Parks, 
cupped in the heights of the Continental Divide. From the lake 
surface rise mists, cloud-kissed, that Colorow and his conquering 
Utes believed went to form the nebulous Milky Way — an astral 
streamer that indicated the journey of the departed spirits of 
warriors bound for the Happy Hunting Ground. 


Denver was named for Gen. James William Denver, Gover- 
nor of Kansas Territory, by Gen. William Larimer, Jr., and 
Richard E. Whitsitt, Nor. 1". 1858. Kansas Territory at the time 
extended as far west as the Rocky Mountains. Denver grew out 
of rival settlements known as Auraria City and St. Charles at the 
confluence of the South Platte River and Cherry Creek, Auraria 
City springing up soon after the arrival from Georgia of the W. 

CO Russell gold-prospecting party, June 24, 1S5S. General 
Denver was born at Winchester, Virginia, Oct 23, 1S17, and died 
at Washington, D. c\. Aug. 9, 1892. He trai the son of Capt 

Patrick Denver. 

Colorado s independence CaniC about through the Provisional 

Territory of Jefferson, created Oct 21, ls^ ( >; its designation as 

the Territ.i M » bg Congressional Act of Feb. 26, i 

approved h\ President James Buchanan, Feb. 2S, 1861, and its 
succession to Statehood Aug. 1, 1876, as the 3Sth state, bv Procla- 
mation ident Ulysses Simpson Grant Colorado is known 
:is the "Centennial State/' because statehood was achieved in the 
war <»f the lm'th anniversary <>f the signing of the Declaration 
of Independence. The present State Capitol in Denver wis 
erected at a COtf of $3,00 end the corner-stone laid July 4, 
It stands at an elevation <>t 5,280 feet abOTC sea level. The 
tol s height to the top of the gold-leaf covered dome is 272 


29 T oS3H 1 1 

A/98 30910-200 •