CANYON***


E-text prepared by Darleen Dove, Roger Frank, Mary Meehan, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)



THE FRONTIER BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON

Or, A Search For Treasure

by

CAPT. WYN ROOSEVELT







The Arthur Westbrook Company
Cleveland, Ohio, U. S. A.

Copyright, 1908
By Chatterton, Peck & Company

Printed in United States of America




CONTENTS


        I. A RACE

       II. AFTER ANTELOPE

      III. THE SURPRISE

       IV. THE CHASE

        V. ON GUARD

       VI. WITHIN THE FORT

      VII. THE CAPTAIN'S RECORD

     VIII. THE CAPTAIN'S SCHEME

       IX. A MOUNTAIN FIRE

        X. THE SEARCH

       XI. THE CAPTAIN DEPARTS

      XII. THE MESA VILLAGE

     XIII. TWO HONORS

      XIV. A NIGHT ON THE MESA

       XV. THE STRANGE COUNTRY

      XVI. THE RIVER

     XVII. BEGINNING THE BOAT

    XVIII. THE BUILDING OF THE BOAT

      XIX. WE START

       XX. OUR FIRST DAY

      XXI. A RIVER AMBUSH

     XXII. THE ATTACK

    XXIII. A CLOSE CALL

     XXIV. THE COLORADO RIVER

      XXV. A VISITOR

     XXVI. JUAREZ BRINGS US NEWS

    XXVII. THE CLIFF VILLAGE

   XXVIII. THE FACE IN THE ROCK

     XXIX. A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE

      XXX. THE GREAT GORGE--THE END




FRONTIER BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON




CHAPTER I

A RACE


"Your cayuse is quiet as a lamb now, isn't he, Jo," inquired Jim.

"He ought to be by this time," I replied. "You wouldn't expect him to
buck all the way through New Mexico, I hope."

"It's funny how he began to act up," remarked Tom, "just as soon as we
got out of Colorado."

"Maybe he doesn't like getting away from the country of his own tribe,"
I said; "He's a regular little Injun I can tell you that."

"I can't blame him for his dislike for the Apache range," interposed
Captain Graves, "for a more undesirable lot of devils are not to be
found in the Southwest."

"You ought to know, captain," remarked Jim, "for you have fought all of
them."

"That's true," he replied, "but my fighting days are about over. I shall
have to leave you boys in a few days and get back to my log cabin on
the plateau in the Big Canyon."

"We all wish you did not have to," said Jim, "I do not know how we will
get along without you."

"You boys can take care of yourselves," he replied. "I saw that in our
expedition against the Indian encampment when you rescued Juarez's
sister. Then if I go much further I will get the old fever in my blood
and nothing will stop me."

"Well, we'll hang on to you then," laughed Jim.

Perhaps the reader is a stranger to Jim, Tom, myself and the captain,
but not if you have read our adventures as recorded in The Frontier Boys
on Overland Trail, in Colorado, and in the Rockies.

I relate therein how we located Captain Graves in his log cabin on a
plateau in "The Big Canyon," and there we spent the winter.

That is to say, Jim and I did, while Tom went back to visit our folks in
York State. Our father, Major George Darlington, lived in the town of
Maysville. He had been in the war, and in the early days he had also
lived on the frontier. I think he took a pride in our achievements. But
our poor mother did not. Mothers are not much in favor of the
adventurous life as a rule.

"Here's a good place for a race," cried Jim, "before we get into the
foot hills."

"We had better be saving our ponies," growled Tom, "rather than racing
them to death. We are a long way from 'The Grand Canyon of the Colorado'
yet."

"That's all right, Tommy," replied Jim, "the ponies can rest long enough
when we get to the Colorado River. The trouble with you is that you are
afraid of being beaten. That's what's worrying you."

"I'll show you," replied Tom, belligerently.

"I will start you," suggested the captain, "where is the finish?"

"The Colorado River," I laughed.

"It's that big pine standing out there alone," said Jim.

"It looks to be a quarter of a mile," said Tom, "but we will probably
reach it by evening; this clear air is very deceiving."

We now proceeded to get in line. Our bronchos were as restive as fleas.
They were the ponies we had captured from the Indians. Mine was a
buck-skin. Tough as rawhide and tireless as a jack rabbit.

Jim's was a light bay with a white face and wall eyed. Three of his feet
were marked white. He was a vicious brute at times and only Jim could
manage him. But he certainly could run.

Tom's animal was a sorrel with his forefeet white. He was the best
looking among the three, but that was not saying much. However for real
work they were tireless, and could stand almost anything.

We finally got our ponies in line and the captain held his pistol high
over his head.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready," we replied in unison, grasping tight the lines.

Then he fired and our ponies scampered away across the level plain. I
got the jump on the bunch but Jim's bay came up with a rush until his
nose was even with my horse's shoulder. The ponies entered into the
spirit of the occasion all right.

"Go it, Piute," yelled Jim.

Then he put his spurs into Piute's flank and with his own fierce energy
he carried him ahead of me.

"Wow! Wow! Coyote!" I yelled, "catch him!"

Coyote certainly went after Piute for fair. Tom was at my heels. The
scant prairie dust flew back from the scampering heels of our flying
ponies.

It was fun! Wild fun for us and how we enjoyed the speed and the
rivalry. I was determined that Coyote should win. The finish was only a
hundred yards away.

With all of the energy that I would have put into a foot race I urged
Coyote along. It was neck and neck between Jim and me. Tom was out of
it, a length behind.

"Whoop la!" I yelled, as I drove my spurs into Coyote's flanks. He
responded and with a tremendous scamper of speed he beat Piute to the
tree by a neck. We put as much energy into it as though there had been a
thousand dollars at stake.

"Well run, boys," said the captain, "who won?"

"I did of course," I replied, modestly.

"Nothing but luck," growled Jim, "in another fifty feet I would have
beaten you."

Piute's attainments and qualifications were the one subject on which Jim
was tender, in all other directions, he was care free and cheerful.

"You may call it luck if it will do your feelings any good," I said,
"but Coyote is the horse if you want to get over the