A Princess of Mars

As our equipment was crude in the extreme we decided that one of us

must return to civilization, purchase the necessary machinery and

return with a sufficient force of men properly to work the mine.

As Powell was familiar with the country, as well as with the mechanical

requirements of mining we determined that it would be best for him to

make the trip. It was agreed that I was to hold down our claim against

the remote possibility of its being jumped by some wandering prospector.

On March 3, 1866, Powell and I packed his provisions on two of our

burros, and bidding me good-bye he mounted his horse, and started down

the mountainside toward the valley, across which led the first stage of

his journey.

The morning of Powell's departure was, like nearly all Arizona

mornings, clear and beautiful; I could see him and his little pack

animals picking their way down the mountainside toward the valley, and

all during the morning I would catch occasional glimpses of them as

they topped a hog back or came out upon a level plateau. My last sight

of Powell was about three in the afternoon as he entered the shadows of

the range on the opposite side of the valley.

Some half hour later I happened to glance casually across the valley

and was much surprised to note three little dots in about the same

place I had last seen my friend and his two pack animals. I am not

given to needless worrying, but the more I tried to convince myself

that all was well with Powell, and that the dots I had seen on his

trail were antelope or wild horses, the less I was able to assure

myself.

Since we had entered the territory we had not seen a hostile Indian,

and we had, therefore, become careless in the extreme, and were wont to

ridicule the stories we had heard of the great numbers of these vicious

marauders that were supposed to haunt the trails, taking their toll in

lives and torture of every white party which fell into their merciless

clutches.

Powell, I knew, was well armed and, further, an experienced Indian

fighter; but I too had lived and fought for years among the Sioux in

the North, and I knew that his chances were small against a party of

cunning trailing Apaches. Finally I could endure the suspense no

longer, and, arming myself with my two Colt revolvers and a carbine, I

strapped two belts of cartridges about me and catching my saddle horse,

started down the trail taken by Powell in the morning.

As soon as I reached comparatively level ground I urged my mount into a

canter and continued this, where the going permitted, until, close upon

dusk, I discovered the point where other tracks joined those of Powell.

They were the tracks of unshod ponies, three of them, and the ponies

had been galloping.