Part 1 (1/2)

The Frontier Boys in the Grand Canyon.

by Wyn Roosevelt.

CHAPTER I

A RACE

”Your cayuse is quiet as a lamb now, isn't he, Jo,” inquired Jim.

”He ought to be by this time,” I replied. ”You wouldn't expect him to buck all the way through New Mexico, I hope.”

”It's funny how he began to act up,” remarked Tom, ”just as soon as we got out of Colorado.”

”Maybe he doesn't like getting away from the country of his own tribe,”

I said; ”He's a regular little Injun I can tell you that.”

”I can't blame him for his dislike for the Apache range,” interposed Captain Graves, ”for a more undesirable lot of devils are not to be found in the Southwest.”

”You ought to know, captain,” remarked Jim, ”for you have fought all of them.”

”That's true,” he replied, ”but my fighting days are about over. I shall have to leave you boys in a few days and get back to my log cabin on the plateau in the Big Canyon.”

”We all wish you did not have to,” said Jim, ”I do not know how we will get along without you.”

”You boys can take care of yourselves,” he replied. ”I saw that in our expedition against the Indian encampment when you rescued Juarez's sister. Then if I go much further I will get the old fever in my blood and nothing will stop me.”

”Well, we'll hang on to you then,” laughed Jim.

Perhaps the reader is a stranger to Jim, Tom, myself and the captain, but not if you have read our adventures as recorded in The Frontier Boys on Overland Trail, in Colorado, and in the Rockies.

I relate therein how we located Captain Graves in his log cabin on a plateau in ”The Big Canyon,” and there we spent the winter.

That is to say, Jim and I did, while Tom went back to visit our folks in York State. Our father, Major George Darlington, lived in the town of Maysville. He had been in the war, and in the early days he had also lived on the frontier. I think he took a pride in our achievements. But our poor mother did not. Mothers are not much in favor of the adventurous life as a rule.

”Here's a good place for a race,” cried Jim, ”before we get into the foot hills.”

”We had better be saving our ponies,” growled Tom, ”rather than racing them to death. We are a long way from 'The Grand Canyon of the Colorado'

yet.”

”That's all right, Tommy,” replied Jim, ”the ponies can rest long enough when we get to the Colorado River. The trouble with you is that you are afraid of being beaten. That's what's worrying you.”

”I'll show you,” replied Tom, belligerently.

”I will start you,” suggested the captain, ”where is the finish?”

”The Colorado River,” I laughed.

”It's that big pine standing out there alone,” said Jim.