The Land of Pagahrit

THE LAND OF PAGAHRIT. BY ALBERT R. LYMAN.

"The call of the wild" is an echo from regions not shown on the maps; the land of Pagahrit is left blank on the map of Utah, and is but known to those who love the call and follow it beyond the beaten paths. Its massive bluffs and canyons, though known only by local names and to but few white men, are yet barriers that have proved an effectual defense for the few who fled from the many. The land j is a natural fortress twenty-five or thirty i miles long, and has perhaps been the secur-
ity of robbers many times since the days of ' £adianton. The name, Pagahrit, has been __ handed down from generation to generation of the Utes to the present day, and means ALBERT R. LYMAN „ ,. , „ . ,. ' . ,

standing water, having reference to a strange, deep lake in the central part of this region. The lake is situated at the junction of four box canyons, and seems a stupendous contradiction to all the surrounding coun- try. It was presumably formed, in the first place, by a flood from one of the side canyons, a flood which built a delta or sand-dam across to the opposite cliff. The lake is forty feet deep,* the water is clear and the banks break off abruptly at the shore line. Bright, green seaweed spreads out near the surface and forms many an arch and bower down in the shady depths. Adding still to the mystery of the place, several rush-covered, floating islands

That was its depth in 1902.

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cross the lake with every important change of the wind. They are from ten to thirty feet long, yet they can sustain very little. A grassy valley stretches up from one end of the lake, and groves of cottonwood and blackwillow throw patches of shade on two clear streamlets; but the surrounding country is scorched and desolate. Bare knolls of solid rock reach up through the blistering sand, ranging from five to fifty feet in height, and very often too steep and smooth to be climbed. Moreover, the level surface is frequently destitute of soil for a hundred yards at a stretch, with only a long seam here and there where a seed may begin to sprout. Half a mile from the lake a stranger might climb a knoll and de- spair of finding water, but coming onto the next bold raise, he sees the blue surface and fears he is mad with thirst — that it is a phantom. The noontide is dazzling with light; the heated air dances like spirits in the distance. The ducks are huddled in the shade of some overhanging bank, or they have crawled into the tangled belt of rushes. The day is quiet, save for the cooing of a dove in the shade of a yucca, but at night the bittern calls from his float- ing island, and the distant answer of the coyote echoes itself to

lingering death in the cliffs and caves. There used to be a monster in this lake, so the story is told, and by day he hid in the green bowers at the bottom, but in the darkness he raised his head from the water and sang a shrill song of enchantment. Like the dreaded water sprites of old Europe he was a terrible thing, and the ancient savage hid and closed his ears at night, lest he be lured to the shore. In spite of this pre- caution, three Utes were charmed from camp in the silent hours of night, and no one saw them again. The story relates that a special pow-wow was held for the monster and he was killed by stratagem. But the Utes make no attempt at the history of the castle once overlooking the lake; it probably fell before their fathers first took refuge in the land. The ruins of this castle reach from side to side of a solid stone cape that juts out into the lake, and the foundation is twenty feet above the waterline. Thus the cas- tle is protected by a natural moat on three sides, across which, if

one should pass, he would have still to scale the smooth cliff. The

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limestone walls reached far down the sloping brow of the cliff on each side, and to prevent them from sliding off into the lake, holes were drilled into the rocks, and against pegs driven into the holes, the foundation stones were laid. There was but one side to defend, and that side being well walled, the place was im- pregnable to the weapons of ancient warfare. The cause of its downfall and desertion are hardly to be read in the silent, sun- burnt heap; it is but one paragraph in the sealed book of history written in stone in the land of Pagahrit. Twelve miles northwest of the lake, the Colorado river flows quietly at the bottom of its deeply worn chasm, with an abandoned ferry making the only place for a long way where crossing is prac- ticable. About twelve miles to the southeast is the twisting, yawning gorge of the San Juan; and beyond it, the precipitous base of the Navajo mountain, with many a den and shelf where men may defy their pursuers. The junction of the two rivers marks the southwest end of the land of Pagahrit. To the east and north is a series of high cliffs and deep gulches, the principal pass through them being known as Clay Hill. To approach this pass from the east, it is necessary to climb a long, steep hill between two bluffs, and the path leading on to the west is through a box canyon.

It is an ideal place for a few to challenge the approach of many. Besides Clay Hill and the old ferry, there are several narrow, dan- gerous trails leading over the barriers towards the lake, but with a few good marksmen at the upper end, a force at the lower end would stand a very poor show of ascending. In the early eighties, in fact, as soon as white men made bold to follow the plundering Utes, it was seen that the latter had a definite course in mind from the beginning of their retreat. Soldier Crossing is the farthest point to which soldiers or cowboys ever carried the contest, and here they found it necessary to give up the chase, leaving their wounded companions to the mercy o the red men and the boiling sun. The Utes were headed for Pa gahrit.and confident of success, had shown themselves every day to entice their angry pursuers onward. Now among the first rocks of their intended defense, with a curse and insult they dared the white men to place foot in the trail below them. On the lake came the red-handed victors, rehearsing in the savage chant of the

938 IMPRO VEMENT ERA .

war song, their bloody exploits without. Here they admired their painted faces as reflected in the still water; here in the war dance they shouted the strength of Pagahrit, the protection of their fathers. They shot down cattle and left them to rot; they gave free rein to the wild spirit of Gadianton, leaving the mark of bul- let and knife and the stain of blood in the land, but no track to betray their course to the Navajo mountain. They were never brought to justice; and no dusky outlaw has ever been apprehended after reaching the summit of Clay Hill pass. From summit he has looked down in defiance on the the regions eastward, and urging his jaded beast down Castle Gulch, has chanted the praise of the lonely lake. The rliffs and caves of Pagahrit are dry and desolate and si-

lent as a haunted house, but they bear continually the marks of human hands; houses, walls and relics; steps cut into the solid bluffs, and signs and figures carved on the face thereof. What do they mean? these mysterious characters. Oh! how often, when resting in the shade of a barren rock, one may wonder: "What means this strange writing on the wall?" They are chapters in this sealed book of stone; they are written on the enduring rock, and they bear the hot winds of time, though the hands that carved them are among the bones blackening and crumbling in the dry sand. Then, since no Daniel has read them, and they are a mys- tery to all alike, should a herdsboy of that land be blamed for thinking that a perishing people required the very cliffs to bear witness who they were, and at whose hands they were slain? There is no road nor trail which a stranger may follow across the land of Pagahrit, there is little to attract men thither, little indeed but "the call of the wild." It is a land whose first children have perished from its face, and doleful creatures crawl among the white bones in its ruins. It is a region once kept green with refreshing rain: home of an agricultural people, but after- the wards overrun by robbers who found it a safe retreat from all pursuers. [t is a thirsty land from which men turn away, unless

they have ears for the wild "call," and follow it on and on into the still solitude.

Grayson, Utah.