The
trail was level and quite broad and led upward and in the general
direction I wished to go. The cliff arose for several hundred feet
on my right, and on my left was an equal and nearly perpendicular
drop to the bottom of a rocky ravine.
I had followed this trail for perhaps a hundred yards when a sharp
turn to the right brought me to the mouth of a large cave. The
opening was about four feet in height and three to four feet wide,
and at this opening the trail ended.
It was now morning, and, with the customary lack of dawn which is a
startling characteristic of Arizona, it had become daylight almost
without warning.
Dismounting, I laid Powell upon the ground, but the most painstaking
examination failed to reveal the faintest spark of life. I forced
water from my canteen between his dead lips, bathed his face and
rubbed his hands, working over him continuously for the better part
of an hour in the face of the fact that I knew him to be dead.
I was very fond of Powell; he was thoroughly a man in every respect;
a polished southern gentleman; a staunch and true friend; and it was
with a feeling of the deepest grief that I finally gave up my crude
endeavors at resuscitation.
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