Girl Scouts in the Rockies

During the climb, the horses often came upon sudden precipitous descents that had to be zigzagged down through loose stone and débris, then up again on the other side. When the riders reached the highest altitude of the Goré Range and looked about, they found themselves among sheer cliffs, that obstructed any distant views.

“Feels like lunchtime to me,” ventured Anne.

“I should think you’d say dinnertime – that’s the way it feels to me,” laughed Julie.

“I was afraid to say that, because I am always credited, – unjustly of course, – with being the gourmand of the Troop,” retorted Anne.

Tally now led along a trail that ran through a small park, that lay between two towering cliffs which shut off all sight of anything on either side of them. Along the bottom of this ravine-like park a clear stream of water gurgled noisily.

“Shall we camp here for luncheon?” asked the Captain, seeing the sweet green grass and cooling stream.

“Oh, no, Verny! Let’s find some woods to stop in. It’s not very inviting to feel shut in so far down,” returned Julie.

So they rode on, the horses picking their careful way over stones and roots, and their riders having to pay strict attention to the trail.

The trail wound about upthrusts of rock, where other streams ran to fall down the sides of the ravine, causing it to widen as it needed more space to carry the added waters. And at last, the scouts could see, in the distance, that the cliffs ahead ended and the stream also passed from view.

“Where the cliffs end will be a dandy spot for camp. We shall be able to sit and gaze over the park that most likely is to be found there,” suggested Joan, eagerly.

“If you don’t camp somewhere soon, you’ll find me ended there!” sighed Anne, comically.

Before they reached this “end” however, the Captain held up a hand for silence, as she said, “That’s a queer sound I hear!”

The others reined in their horses and listened. They then heard it, also. Mr. Vernon said, “Sounds like thunder, I think.”

“No, it sounds more like a stampede of cattle on a ranch. If you’ve ever heard the hoofbeats of a herd of steer, you’d know that this is like it,” came from Mr. Gilroy.

Tally grinned at both men. “Him waterfall!”

“Waterfall! All that volume of sound?” asked Mr. Gilroy, skeptically.

“Him big waterfall,” repeated Tally.

“Let’s hurry to find it, then!” declared Julie, urging her horse forward and gaining the corner of the cliff at the end of the ravine, ahead of her companions.

The crags completely hid all that might be beyond them; but as the riders went along, the volume of sound increased until the roaring of water convinced every one that the Indian must be right in his surmise. Then they passed around the obstructing crag, and sat spellbound at the panorama spread out before them.

The first glimpse of this tremendous waterfall was that of tawny green water bounding headlong over the precipice. Its dynamic vehemence had cleft a fearful way through the crags on either side of it, and adown its course one could see black hulks of rock that projected out from the swirling flood. The roar and thunder of this tremendous stream prevented any one from hearing other sounds.

The group of riders sat enthralled by the sight, then they next permitted their eyes to wander beyond the immediate falls to the magnificent view spread out in such space below and beyond. In the far distance the snow-capped peaks lay, one behind the other, until they were lost to sight in the drifting clouds on the horizon. But, as if loath to merge so quickly with the clouds, here and there one or more peaks would appear with their sharp points above the mist, and there reflect the glory of the shining sun.

From the far horizon and its peaks, the eyes now dropped gradually from one height to the next lower down, until they rested upon a valley that lay fully fifteen hundred feet below the crags where the scouts stood. The panorama was so vast in extent and so impressive in its sense of infinitude, that the spectators scarcely drew their breath.

The whole scene shimmered through the soft clouds that hung above the waterfalls and made it look like the reflections in a soap-bubble, with iridescent colors shining on the sphere. So ethereal appeared the picture that it seemed as if a slight vibration would surely shatter the bubble. This grand painting had existed here for centuries before the coming of the scouts to admire it, and there it promised to remain intact for centuries more after mortals should pass from the earth.

Here and there across this valley a ribbon of water wound a silent course away out of sight. From the great falls a mighty river flowed for miles until that, too, appeared like a silver ribbon, tying the land fancifully in its loops.

The silence was broken at last by Anne. “Can we find a better place for dinner than this grand cliff?”

The tension broke with a snap, and the others glared at the perplexed scout. Finally Julie cried, scornfully, “Can you find anything in that scene besides patches where food is grown?”

Good-natured Anne laughed, and shrugged her shoulders. “I think it is as beautiful as the Great Spirit ever made, but unfortunately I am not yet entirely spiritual. I find I must eat a bite now and then, to enable me to enjoy these pictures.”

Her excuse for the interruption made every one laugh, and Mrs. Vernon then added, “I think Anne’s suggestion very good, – to camp here and have dinner.”

“Let Hominy lead the horses back to the grassy ravine to graze, while Tally cooks dinner,” added Mr. Vernon.

So Omney rode back, leading the rest of the horses and the two pack-mules. Tally soon had the dinner cooking, but there was no chance of catching fish in that swift water, so they were satisfied that day with pork and beans, bread and jam for dinner.

After descending the last rampart of the Goré Range, the scouts heard Tally speak confidently of the locality they were in, but Mr. Gilroy seemed to differ with the guide.

“Me think us mos’ here,” insisted the Indian.

“Maybe you’re right! I was mistaken before, so I’ll give in,” laughed Mr. Gilroy.

“What is it, Gilly?” asked some of the scouts.

“Tally says we are nearly at Steamboat Springs, and I say we are not. Now we will see who is right!”

They had not gone much farther along the trail, however, before the scouts discovered strawberries! Great luscious wild berries they were, and growing profusely everywhere in the grass.

“I guess Tally was right,” admitted Mr. Gilroy. “We’re in the wonderful strawberry belt that is so famous about Steamboat Springs.”

Colorado strawberries are as famous, throughout the West, as the Rockyford melons are in the East; so the scouts made the most of their opportunity to eat the delicious berries while they were at the Springs. They visited the plants where berries are packed and shipped, and also visited a factory where jams were prepared.

This progressive little town, although so young, compared favorably with the larger cities of the East. It was equipped with electric light, telephones, paved streets, first-class public service, and other modern welfare improvements.

The evening after the scouts had visited the packing-houses that shipped strawberries to the markets, Mr. Gilroy sat studying a large map. Julie kept silent for a long time (for her) and finally spoke.

“What’s the map for? Any change in plans?”

“I was figuring out whether or not we might possibly have time to go on a tangent trip, and take in Yellowstone Park, as long as we are so near Wyoming,” he returned.

“Oh, fine! Do let’s do that, Verny!” cried several of the girls.

“But that means an extended trip, Mr. Gilroy, and I do not see how we are going to finish all you have planned and still get back to Denver in time to take these girls back to school in September,” remonstrated Mrs. Vernon.

An argument instantly followed, in which the scouts sided with Mr. Gilroy, arguing that time was no consideration when such wonderful sights as the geysers of the Yellowstone could be seen. Mrs. Vernon was firm, however, in her protest that school came before all such other considerations. Mr. Vernon also added his weighty decision by saying that he had to be back in New York City the first week in September, without fail.

“Then we will have to retrace our trail across the Rockies and travel slowly southward on the west side of the mountains,” was Mr. Gilroy’s reluctant rejoinder.

“Does that mean we can’t go any farther than Steamboat Springs?” asked Julie, querulously.

“We might go on to Craig, and visit Cedar Mountain from the peak of which we can look over into Wyoming. That seems to be as near to it as we will come this summer,” laughed Mr. Gilroy.

Julie pouted, and the other scouts sat and waited for developments. Mr. Vernon thought for a time, then turned to his friend with a suggestion.

“You wanted to cross the Divide at Milner’s Pass because of the scenic beauty of the Fall River Road; now, why not cross it in going back to the eastern slope of the Rockies, and thence turn south?”