Part 4

Arriving in the city of El Paso, we are obliged to seek for accommodations, which causes a separation of our party. The Firemen’s State Convention is in progress here, and the town is full of visitors. Ten of us found rooms at the “Grand Central,” some at “Vendome,” and a number at the “Pierson.” The latter is the most popular place, and an effort was made to get the entire party quartered there, but it could not be done. After engaging rooms at the “Grand Central” we went across the river, which is not overflowed at this point, into the old Mexican town of Ciudad Juarez, the Paso del Norte of our childhood geographies.

Under the escort of Conductors T. H. Purcell and Charles Allen, of the Southern Pacific, we were shown much that was of interest. We were introduced by Captain Purcell to Signor Miguel Ahuamada, the gentlemanly Governor of the State of Chihuahua, who entertained us very nicely for half an hour, giving us an international treat, which ceremony consists of drinks of whatever each member of the party wishes, the guests forming in a semicircle in front of the Governor, touching glasses with him as they pass. Captain Purcell at the same time made a speech in the Mexican language, with which he is thoroughly conversant, having at one time filled the position of Government Interpreter at this point. Of course none of us understood a thing that he said, but we felt sure it was all right from the pleased expression on his Honor’s, face, who replied in a pleasant manner in his native tongue.

Purcell told us afterward that he had informed the Governor that we were a party of Americans who had called to do him honor; that we drank to his health and a long and happy life; that we had the highest regard for Mexican institutions, believing them to be the best in the world; that their men were the noblest and their women the most beautiful we had ever met; that we wore upon our bosoms the colors of the Mexican flag, which we considered, next to the Stars and Stripes, the most beautiful banner in the world, and we hoped it would ever wave in triumph and in peace over an empire that would continue to increase in prosperity and wealth. No wonder the old man smiled; we would have smiled too had we understood what was being said. The red, white and green of our tourist badges had caught his eye and he was pleased. Captain Purcell’s speech flatters him and he wants to do something to show his appreciation.

Our visit does him great honor, and he desires to reciprocate; had he time to arrange for a bull fight he could give us much amusement, but his best bull was killed a short time ago and his matadors are out of training; but he has a prisoner under the sentence of death, and if we will return on the morrow he will execute him for our pleasure and entertainment. Captain Purcell made us acquainted with this proposition, which we declined with thanks. We had no desire to see the poor fellow shot, which is their method of administering capital punishment. Bidding his Honor adieu, we are next escorted through several of the principal gambling resorts and are much interested in all we see. It is growing late, and when we return to El Paso and reach our rooms it is midnight.

THURSDAY, MAY 13th.

Arose about 6.30 and found the morning clear and warm. There are many wonderful, strange, and unusual things in, around, and about El Paso, but one of the most puzzling and perplexing things is its time. Traveling westward you arrive on Central time and depart on Pacific, a difference of two hours, while in the city they use local time, which is a split between the two. Over the river in Juarez they use Mexican time. Visited a barber shop for a shave, then a restaurant for breakfast and got another shave; I was taxed one dollar and twenty cents for breakfast for two. We didn’t return for dinner.

Those of our party who did not visit Juarez last evening attended the State Firemen’s ball and banquet under the escort of Colonel Whitmore, Acting Mayor of El Paso, and Chief J. J. Connors, of the city fire department, and they all speak in the highest terms of the royal treatment they received and the grand time they had. The city of El Paso contains about 12,000 inhabitants, but the population is almost double that number this week, which gives the town a very lively appearance. We learn that our train cannot be gotten over the washout to-day, and arrangements are being made to remain in the city to-night. Engaged a pleasant room for fifty cents per day at the “Wellington,” corner of Staunton and Texas Streets, kept by Mrs. Whitmore; quite a number of our party are stopping here.

Brother Wyman hired a horse to-day and rode in the parade. It is very hot in the sun. Went over in front of the Court House this afternoon to see the firemen race. There was quite an exciting time. Brother Haas was there with his kodak and had a narrow escape from being run over in trying to get a “snap” at a team as the horses galloped past. Had a pleasant chat in the evening with Mr. Pettus, an old resident of the place, who has a furnishing store next to the “Wellington.” He is an entertaining man and gave some interesting information relative to the early history and habits of the country and people. I turned in about eleven o’clock, but can’t speak for them all, for this is an interesting city.

FRIDAY, MAY 14th.

Turn out this morning about 7.30 and find the weather clear and warm. We go to a nearby restaurant for breakfast; mutton chops are one of the items on the bill of fare, and we are pleased, for we are partial to chops--nice, juicy, tender mutton chops; but these chops do not quite come up to our idea of what mutton chops should be--not so juicy nor so tender as we would like; but being hungry we quietly and uncomplainingly devour what is set before us. “Where do you people in El Paso get your mutton?” I inquired of the waiter as we arose from the table (for I had no recollection of seeing a sheep since we entered the State of Texas). “_Goats_,” was the short but suggestive answer. A little private inquiry elicited the information that it is a fact that the greater part of the “mutton” consumed in El Paso is a product of the goatherd. The supply is apparently inexhaustible, for thousands of those ruminating, odoriferous quadrupeds can be seen roaming the adjacent plains and plateaus in great herds, attended by boys and dogs.

Accompanied Manager Wyman to Superintendent Martin’s office, where we learn “that there is no prospect of getting our train across the washout this week. The water has fallen but very little, and while we are working day and night, endeavoring to close the break, our progress is necessarily slow on account of the action of the high water, and the work cannot be completed sufficiently to get our train across until the water recedes. And no one knows,” continued Mr. Martin, “when this will be, for the water is just as likely to rise as to fall. The weather has been very hot these last few days and has melted the snow in the mountains very rapidly, which has caused the high water here. When the snow is gone the water will fall, so you see it depends upon the supply of snow, of which we know nothing about. If you wish to continue on your journey I will send you to Los Angeles by regular train, and when we succeed in getting your train across will send it on after you.”

Brother Wyman rather favors this proposition, as he desires to reach Los Angeles before the Grand Division adjourns, but the majority of our party will not agree to it, preferring to remain with the train and take their chance with it; so the idea of going ahead by regular train is abandoned. A party of us procured a four-horse team and went over to the train to-day, some to remain and others to return. Would have remained had Mrs. S. been along, for it is a dreadful hot trip of two and one-half hours across that burning sand.

We found our train sidetracked at Alfalfa, one mile east of the washout, and had one mile to walk after leaving the wagon. Alfalfa is not a place--it is only a name. There is a sidetrack here and a post with a board on it, and on the board is painted in large black letters the word ALFALFA. That is all. It is a flagstop for accommodation trains, but there is no station, not even a shed, a platform, nor a plank. The nearest civilized communities are El Paso, 7 miles away to the west, and Fort Bliss, the same distance to the north. On the east end of the same sidetrack where our train lies are a number of cabooses of the Texas and Pacific construction train, occupied by Mexican families whose husbands and fathers are working on the repairs at the washout. They are a squalid, uninviting-looking set, but seem happy and contented with their lot.

Here and there in the edge of a sandbank can be seen a “dugout,” or, sheltered in a mesquite thicket, a “shack” occupied by the same nationality, who with their goats and burros are very pictures of meek and lowly contentment. These are the surroundings in the midst of which we are sidetracked. We find our people (those who are with the train) with smiles upon their faces as they tell us they are “all right” and are having a good and pleasant time. There must surely be an element or ingredient in this desert air and atmosphere that breeds contentment and repose.

Several of the boys went over to the train and back on broncos to-day, and experienced a hot but exhilarating ride. The party consisted of Brothers Waddington, Taylor, Matthews, Moore, Mattson, Leary, and Elder, who all claim that the ride, although a very hot one, was rare sport. The novel experience of a ride of 14 miles on a fiery, wiry Texan horse is a feature of their visit to El Paso that will not be forgotten.

Brother Wyman remained at Alfalfa to watch the progress of repairs at the washout, and I returned in the wagon to El Paso. Dining-car Conductor McDonald accompanied us; he was looking for a wagon-load of supplies for his car from El Paso that had not arrived. When about half way across the plateau we met the team. Mr. McDonald interviewed the driver to ascertain if his wagon was loaded with what had been ordered and found everything satisfactory.

As we leave behind us the hot, suffocating desert trail we pass close to the base of Mt. Franklin, in the shadow of which El Paso lies, and crossing the railroad tracks of the Fort Bliss Branch we feel a deep sense of relief as we strike the hard, smooth street that leads us into the city’s welcome shade and rest.

Learning on our arrival back that the El Paso _Telegraph_, a morning paper, contained an account of our trip and detention, we procured several copies and sent them East to friends.

The majority of our party went over to the train this afternoon; those remaining in town witnessed this evening a grand pyrotechnical exhibition under the auspices and management of the McGinty Club, a powerful social and political organization of El Paso. After the parade, during which there was a fine display of fireworks, the storming of Fort McGinty took place, which was the leading feature of the occasion. The fort, built of some light material, was erected on a neighboring hill, Roman candles and sky rockets were used as weapons by both the storming party and the defenders, which caused the mock battle to assume a very realistic appearance.

After the exhibition of fireworks a party of us visited the famous Astor House, kept by Col. Si Ryan. Si is one of the noted characters of El Paso. Years ago he was sheriff of three counties in Southern California, Mono, Inyo, and San Bernardino, and in dealing with the outlaws and renegades that infested the country at that time he achieved a reputation for nerve and courage that has never been surpassed, and the numerous scars upon his person, made by knife and bullet, bear silent testimony that he never shirked his duty in the face of danger or turned his back upon a foe. We find the colonel a prince of good fellows, and after enjoying his company and partaking of his hospitality, we repaired to the headquarters of the McGinty Club, and with a number of visiting firemen were royally entertained.

Brother McCarty was with us, and for some unexplained reason he received special attention; but Charlie is a good fellow and deserves it, and being a bachelor it is all right. Several of us withdrew from the meeting before it adjourned, as it was drawing near midnight. We had spent a long and busy day and were tired. Soon reached my room at “The Wellington,” and retiring, endeavored to recall the various events of the day, but rushing water, desert dust, galloping broncos, McGinties, sky rockets, and smoke got mixed up in inextricable confusion as I lost consciousness in sleep.

SATURDAY, MAY 15th.

Turned out this morning about seven o’clock and found the weather clear, with every indication pointing to another hot day. Not feeling very well, I went out in search of “medicine”; met several of the boys out on the same errand; our symptoms are similar, and we conclude that the powder smoke inhaled during the McGinty demonstration is responsible for our indisposition.

A visit to Superintendent Martin’s office results in the information that the washout situation remains unchanged. Mr. Martin can give us no encouragement. Brother Layfield and myself called on Mr. Joseph Sweeney during the morning and spent a pleasant hour with him. Learning that a party was being made up to return to the train, Mrs. Wyman, Mrs. Shaw, and myself join them. The Colonel and Mrs. Layfield desire to go, but the wagon is already crowded. The sun is intensely hot, and at 9.30 A. M. we leave El Paso for one more trip across that never-to-be-forgotten scorching desert plateau. The party consists of nine, including the driver, in a large transfer coach drawn by two horses. To relieve the overburdened animals, the men walk part of the way and keep a sharp lookout for rattlesnakes, for the driver had hinted that we might encounter some, as they are known to be quite numerous in this locality. Two large snakes of an unknown species were seen; one glided into a hole in the side of the bank of a deep arroyo, and we did not go to look for him; the other was discovered lying quietly behind a large sage bush by one of the “boys,” who silently imparted the information to the rest.

We gathered around, and looking where he pointed, saw a portion of his snakeship’s form through a small opening in the bush. “Think it would be safe to shoot at him?” whispered the discoverer of the snake, as he clutched his ever-ready revolver in his grasp. “Yes; blaze away,” answered a chorus of low voices. _Bang!_ went the pistol, and we saw the snake slightly move, but it did not run away. “I hit him,” exclaimed our brother with the pistol; and we all moved cautiously around the bush to investigate. There he was, sure enough, a greenish-striped fellow about six feet long, but he had no head, and from his appearance it had been three or four days since he had lost it. Our marksman’s ball had struck the ground just underneath the body and turned it partly over, which movement had deceived us. I will say no _more_ about it lest you guess who did the shooting; not that I think he would care, for mistakes are being made every day by some of us that are worse than shooting dead snakes.

Arriving at our train about noon, after an absence

of three days, brings with it a feeling of relief, similar to getting home again. The majority of the party had preceded us, a number having come over yesterday. All express themselves as being glad to get back to the train, notwithstanding its uninviting surroundings and isolated condition. What we all appreciate very much and what goes far toward breaking the monotony of the situation is the fact that nearly all the Texas and Pacific and Southern Pacific trains stop here, and are very kind in furnishing us with water and ice when we need it.

Yesterday afternoon a Southern Pacific train stopped here that had been held up by train robbers a few miles east of Sierra Blanca. The safe in the express car was blown open with dynamite and robbed of a large amount of money. The train was held for one and a half hours while the work was being done. The passengers on the train were not molested. Some of our party entered the car and examined the wrecked safe, which was blown almost into fragments. A portion of the car roof was torn off by the force of the explosion and pieces of the safe were found in the sides and ends of the car. A parrot and a rooster in the car lost nearly all their feathers, but otherwise were apparently uninjured. Several of our party obtained parrot and rooster feathers and pieces of the safe as souvenirs. The Texan Rangers, we are told, are hot on the trail of the outlaws.

Manager Wyman has just returned from the washout and brings no encouragement. “The break cannot be repaired until the water falls two feet,” says Brother Wyman, “and it shows no disposition to fall.” “Give me two hundred men and the material to bridge those arroyos and lay the track and I will have a railroad from here into El Paso across that desert plateau inside the time they have been waiting for this water to fall,” exclaimed Brother Sloane, spiritedly. “They won’t leave you do it, Charlie,” said Brother Terry, sympathetically. The arrival of six more of our people from El Paso and the announcement of dinner at the same time prevented further conversation in this direction.

We were favored with a light shower in the afternoon, which evidently stirred up the mosquitoes, for they are very numerous and aggressive this evening. This is a beautiful night. It is the full of the moon, and the clear, marvelous light it sheds is the most wonderful moonlight we have ever seen; so clear, so bright, and yet so soft; no one can describe it, for it is simply indescribable. Objects can be discerned at a remarkable distance, and Mt. Franklin, six miles away, looms up to the vision dark, grim, and majestic.

As our party one by one retire to their berths there is not a mind among them all but what is impressed with the beauty and grandeur of the night, the silence and serenity of which is broken only by the occasional barking of a watchful Mexican dog or the quarrelsome snarling of thieving coyotes.

SUNDAY, MAY 16th.

To-day is clear and warm, with a delightful breeze stirring. We avoid the hot glare of the sun by remaining as much as possible on the shady side of the train. There are remarkable conditions of climate here. In the sun the heat is distressing, almost unbearable; in the shade it is more than comfortable, almost luxurious, producing a feeling of exuberant pleasure and vitality that is difficult to express or understand. There was a light thunder shower during the night, which no doubt had a tendency to further clarify and rarify this wonderful atmosphere. We are making the best of the situation; have plenty to eat and drink, but there is a scarcity of water for washing purposes, although large irrigating ditches are close to hand, but the waters are too muddy for use.

About noon a Southern Pacific work train came along and supplied our cars with water, which is hauled in large wooden tanks holding about 4000 gallons each. It is brought from Lasca, about 70 miles east of Alfalfa. S. P. engine No. 904 is drawing the train which is supplying us with water, Engineer John Condon, Conductor G. M. Seamonds, Brakemen J. M. Bates and Charles McDonald, who are very kind and obliging, carefully supplying each car with all the water needed. Manager Wyman has just received a telegram from Superintendent Martin saying that the break situation is not improving, and suggests that our committee make arrangements to go some other way.

Brakeman Charles Gunning, who has been with us since we left Ft. Worth, made suggestions to our committee which were immediately taken up, viz., that we return to Sierra Blanca and from there take the Southern Pacific to Spofford Junction, thence over Eagle Pass and the Mexican International to Torreon, then up over the Mexican Central to El Paso, making a triangle trip of about 1450 miles. The committee immediately set out to communicate with the railroad officials, and we are all waiting anxiously to know the result of the conference.

In the meantime work at the washout must have progressed with remarkable rapidity, for some one just from there brings the highly encouraging report that the break in the track is trestled over and the prospect of getting us away soon is good. This report comes less than three hours after Manager Wyman had received a message from Superintendent Martin saying “he could give us no hope; that we had better go some other way.” Is it any wonder that we are doubtful of the good news and regard it as a fake? But it is true, nevertheless, for Brothers Wyman and Maxwell have just returned and verify the report, adding “that if the water does not rise again we will go out of here to-morrow.”

Brothers Wyman, Maxwell, Sheppard, Gilliland, and myself walked down to the washout this evening and came back in the caboose of the work train. It is about three miles from where our train lies to the break in the track that has caused so much labor and anxiety. The greater part of this work is performed by Mexicans, and they have been working day and night, much of the time up to the waist in water, in order to get the break repaired. More of our party came over from El Paso this evening; they are all over now but two or three. Brothers Haas and Smith and Mrs. Smith went over to El Paso to-day to go by regular train to Los Angeles.

When Brother John Reilly came over to the train he brought with him a very much corroded revolver, presented as a souvenir to the Pennsylvania Railroad conductors’ excursion party by Col. Si Ryan. The revolver belonged to George Daley, mining engineer, of Lake

Valley, New Mexico, who was killed by Indians September 9th, 1878. The revolver was found on the alkali plains where Engineer Daley met his death. The alkali had eaten off all the woodwork and corroded with rust the iron. It is an interesting relic and highly valued as a souvenir.

The “boys” have been patrolling the train at night since we have been sidetracked here. I have volunteered to go on second watch to-night, and turned in at eleven o’clock, expecting to be called at 2 A. M. for patrol duty.

MONDAY, MAY 17th.

Awakened at 2.30 this morning by Brother George Dale, and with Brother Sam Horner go on duty to watch and to wait for morning to come. There is nothing else for us to do; all is quiet outside and around the train as we promenade back and forth on the alert for anything of a suspicious nature. The morning is clear and bright and the air cool and refreshing. Brother Kilgore, who sleeps near the roof in the car “Milton,” is doing some vigorous snoring, and Brother Houston, in the rear of the “Orchis,” is talking earnestly in his sleep. We catch an occasional glimpse of a skulking dog or coyote seeking for food amongst the scraps thrown from the train, but no marauder appears to molest us. A heavy 44-caliber six-shooter, presented to the writer just before starting on the trip by Lyttleton Johnson, Esq., of Chadd’s Ford, Pa., has been at the service of our watchmen, and we feel that we are well armed. When not in possession of the watchmen, Baggagemaster George Anderson sleeps with it under his pillow.