Lone-Rock

Lone-Rock

By Orville S. Jolmson

Not long since, there were real blood-thirsty savages, in the West. During the time of such beings, a certain mail-carrier and postmaster combined, lived at the mouth of a box-canyon through which flowed a stream, on its way to the Grand Canyon of the Colorado. The creek in question drains a large section of country. In fact, it may rain at the head of some of its tributaries, and any one coming from the carrier's home, up the river, to the town from which he received his mail sacks, may never know that it has rained. Sometimes the wanderer may meet a great wall of water and mud coming with such speed between such high walls, that he would lose hope and die swallowed up in the turbulent mass. Such cases are on record. But the old carrier of my tale seemed to think that he was immune from either such a death, or worse, a death by hostile Indians, who often seemed to take wild delight in terrorizing those who were far away from help. The old carrier's ranch was one of a group of about seven, all of which were thriving because of the warm climate caused by the heat reaching from the great walls that surrounded them, and because of the plentiful supply of wates afforded by the creek. The reason why the small sack of mail should have to be carried to that place, so far out of the way, was a puzzle to me, but it was, nevertheless, a fact that the old carrier made a living at farming, carrying the mail, and acting as postmaster. It had been an unusually dry season, and there had been no floods large enough to hinder a single trip. The carrier felt as if Providence was paying special attention to his needs, and he was grateful. It was about twenty-five miles through the narrow gorge, to where it widened out into a tiny valley where nestled the town that was always a welcome sight to the old man after almost a whole day's ride upon a slow horse. But he seemed to take a certain delight in those long, lonesome trips. He rather liked to puzzle over certain characters and figures upon the rock walls. Sometimes these curious writings were fifty feet up on the perpendicular wall of sandstone. And at other times they appeared almost at the top of the wall, a distance of from one to three hundred feet. Then there were a few places where

714 IMPROVEMENT ERA of the canyon. the writing was not over thirty feet from the floor He had copies of all those peculiar carvings, and sometimes took them along with him upon his trips. They were a ghostly company. There was one place in particular that the old man learned to respect. That was a huge Rock, almost seventy feet high. It was not so straight up and down as the canyon walls, but still it was no small task to climb to its top, though not impossible, as the man had learned. It was this Rock that became his dining place. He always ate his lunch there, because a spring of cold water bubbled up near it, and furthermore, it was about halfway of his journey. It seemed, too, to him, that the Rock was a giant sentinel, placed there by some power greater than human force, to command respect. It was located almost in the middle of the canyon which at that point, was about two hundred feet in width, leaving only small margin on either side. It was so much by itself that it was called Lone-Rock. Later it was learned that the Indians years, perhaps ages, ago had named it so. For they had a kind of respect for the huge Rock. To them it denoted a power that was to be worshiped. Many legends surrounded it, but it was not marred by any kind of carving. The old carrier sometimes wondered if he could climb to the top of the Rock quick enough to escape a flood, should one overtake him at that point. He finally became convinced that he could, and then he began to look upon the Rock as a kind of protector. It was a restful feeling to know that he was safe until he left the Rock. Then came a time when the Rock became more than a sign of protection; it was a real gift of Providence. would require much time to tell why the old man had It become almost a peace-maker between the savages and whites. But such was the case. It was due largely to his knowledge of the different languages of the tribes. And it was because of this that there were certain renegade Indians who decided that it — would profit them much, if this particular man an important — link between the two races was removed. They would feel much freer to plunder and enjoy their savage instincts of war. Thus it was that upon a certain day, a band of the savages were waiting at Lone-Rock, which was the most advantageous — point for their purpose, to do away with this white man their stumbling block. Up the canyon came the old carrier, lazily sitting in his saddle, and only moving often enough to remind his horse that itwas not its duty to cease motion entirely. Hewas thoughtful, as usual, and was perhaps a little more anxious than ordinarily

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to reach the Rock because of certain delicacies he was sure were in his lunch basket. When within about a mile of the rock, which could easily be seen at this distance, owing to the straight line of the canyon, at this point, he urged his horse into a slow jog. Once or twice he fancied he saw movements about the Rock, but was not certain, but in order to make sure, he urged his horse the more. Just as he reached the Rock, there was the usual war whoop, and then fifteen arrows were pointing in his direction, and fifteen Indians were looking pleased because of his sudden discomfiture !

was not exactly terrifying, because he thought he knew It the ways of Red men. But it was at best very trying. And then, after he had asked what they wanted, and received his sentence, he never flinched, but looked directly into the eyes of his wouldbe captors, and threatened them. Their answer was a series of fierce laughs, which were equivalent to our saying, "Dead men tell no tales." He began to see that there was real danger of losing his life, unless he could divert them from their present humor. He pleaded with them, he begged them, and he threatened them. But they were set in their purpose, and only laughed and pointed to the giant Rock and demanded that he mount it. As he started to climb up its steep side, little by little, they began their war-dance. And as he climbed they whooped, and hopped around the big Rock. After he reached the top, he began to beseech the Power that had placed the Rock there, to preserve him; not because he was afraid to die, but because life is a priceless gift, and besides, he felt that it would be bad for the rest of the people if he were killed; because he was old, and when the tortures always given their victims, would begin, he would be unable to bear them without showing pain. The Indians would report to their chief that his heart was water, and all his work among them would go for nothing. The Indians seemed intent upon doing that very thing. They were making all the noise in all the ways possible to denote fierceness. After the dance was finished, they seemed uncertain just what to do next. Some of them wanted to kill him immediately. Others wanted to scalp him, and then kill him a little at a time. A large portion of their number, however, were uncertain what they did prefer, until it was proposed that they show him, by means of a rude sort of drama, just what they intended to do with him, and see if he could watch the proceedings without losing heart. And what a drama that was! There were more dramatic

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situations in it than there are scenes in the average play. And it was real tragedy, as far as the lone man who was the audience was concerned, although the actors seemed to think it comedy. They pretended to lay his body upon a bed of hot coals, and did it so realistically that he felt the heat, and his flesh seemed almost to wither. But he was wholly unprepared for what they did next. They represented a man hanging by the feet, while they scalped him. It was horrible, but he held firm, and showed no outward signs of what he felt. He kept saying to himself that he held out for the sake of other white men who might try to make peace with the Indians. If he could only merit their savage respect, it would make it easier for the next man to do what he had tried to do When the warriors saw that he was apparently unaffected, they began to show signs of uneasiness as to the best method of making him show weakness. They talked in low tones for a few minutes, and then began slowly to walk down the canyon away from the Rock. At a distance of about a hundred yards they stopped, turned* and began to shoot arrows at him. He could easily have drop- ped out of sight on the opposite side of the rock, but he knew it would profit him nothing; then he began to wish the thing

was over with. So when the arrows hit closer and closer to him, he sat still and hoped one would soon find its way to a vital place; and yet he knew that there was a chance for further torture, and that they were only trying to frighten him. He became more and more convinced that they only meant to wound him, when they began to move back several steps, after each round of shots. So far no arrow had hit him, although several arrows had come very near. He was sure that they were afraid he would be killed and were trying not to hit too close. And then that which some call fate, and others call Providence, and yet others call luck, came to the rescue. But the savages thought they had won when they saw his wild signals of warning. They thought he had gone mad, or perhaps only pretended to be insane in order to frighten them! They began to come closer and whoop more loudly. Then, after it was too late, they understood that he was a friend. He had tried to warn them! Around the bend just above the rock a huge rushing wall of thick, stinking water crawled swiftly toward them. And they, realizing that their only hope was to run in flight waved a last farewell to their late captive, threw away their weapons, as a signal that they understood that he was to be respected, and took to their heels! Several hours later a band of men, led by six tired Indians,

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rescued the old carrier by means of a rope ladder let down from the top of the canyon wall. But rather than try the ladder, he tied the rope around his waist and signaled for them to pull him up. The five Indians told a dreadful tale of how they were the sole survivors of a band of fifteen, and that the reason of their survival was that they had tried by all means in their power to put the killing off by tricks through which their Indian com- rades had hoped to break down the carrier's resolute front. And yet, through it all, they seemed to see a mysterious help which they appeared to think was the power of the Lone-Rock. Murray, Utah

Look for the Best

By Joseph S. Peery

"Look for the best in every person you meet," is a good motto that brings approval of ourselves and others. We generally get what we are looking for, and it is not well to go around sitting on the judgment seat. Centuries ago, Alma sent out letters to his sons. In one of his letters he says: "That which you send out shall return unto you again and be restored." Modern fathers should likewise instruct their sons that love or hate, kindness or bitterness, react immediately. The Savior says, "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." (Matt. 6:34.) To think and talk disaster is liable to bring disaster. To think and talk success helps to bring success. Look for the best, think kind things, say kind things, and thereby the subject of conversation is made better. Words are dangerous things and should be handled with care. The Savior's meaning is clear: "By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned." (Matt. 12:37.) When our turn comes to stand before our Maker and be judged by our words and works, how sweet would it be to hear: "Your life books show that you were kind to your associates. You chose to praise rather than to censure. You measured out charity, and charity comes now to you." Surely we all will need charity when we stand at the judgment seat. So we have no time to lose to look for the best in others and to give them the best in us.