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Updated: July 9, 2025
After about fifteen miles I began to have leaden feet. I did not mind hard work, but I wanted to avoid over-exertion. When I am extremely wearied my feelings are liable to be colored somewhat by depression or melancholy. Then it always bothered me to get tired while Nielsen kept on with his wonderful stride. "Say, Nielsen, do you take me for a Yaqui?" I complained. "Slow up a little."
Joseph Stake, with thirty wagons, went into Sonora, where they were given a hearty welcome by the Yaqui Indians, who expressed hope of a settlement among them. St. David was the scene of one of the most notable councils of the Church, held in January, 1885, and presided over by none other than President John Taylor, who left Salt Lake City, January 3, and whose party at St.
In the wide out-of-doors, under the unbelievably blue sky and the stinging sun, with Jimsy and Yaqui Juan, life was sound and whole again. The Indian, tall as a pine, looked at her with eyes of respectful adoration and smiled his slow, melancholy smile, as she swung off with the boy, down the path which led to the old well. "Juan approves of me, doesn't he?" said Honor, contentedly.
"We'll soon be at the ranch," Bud said. "Oh, but I can't wait until then." "Same here!" put in Floyd. "I don't believe a Yaqui touches water from the time he's born until he dies."
Only sparse cactus and weathered ledges dotted the great low roll of a rising escarpment. Yaqui suited the gait of his horse to the lay of the land, and his followers accepted his pace. There were canter and trot, and swift walk and slow climb, and long swing miles up and down and forward. The sun soared hot.
Strange varieties of cactus vied with the omnipresent choya. Yaqui, however, found ground that his horse covered at a swift walk. But there was only an hour, perhaps, of this comparatively easy going. Then the Yaqui led them into a zone of craters. The top of the earth seemed to have been blown out in holes from a few rods in width to large craters, some shallow, others deep, and all red as fire.
The curve of the iron shoes pointed westward. An intersecting trail from the north came in here. Gale thought the tracks either one or two days old. Ladd said they were one day. The Indian shook his head. No farther advance was undertaken. The Yaqui headed south and traveled slowly, climbing to the brow of a bold height of weathered mesa. There he sat his horse and waited. No one questioned him.
His eagerness, his mounting passion, was checked by Yaqui's unusual action. The Indian showed wonder, hesitation, even reluctance. His strange eyes surveyed this boiling well as if they could not believe the sight they saw. Gale divined instantly that Yaqui had never before seen the source of Forlorn River.
He stood with his hand on Blanco Diablo; and both were silhouetted against the sky. That was the outlook for a Yaqui. And his great horse, dazzlingly white in the sunlight, with head wildly and proudly erect, mane and tail flying in the wind, made a magnificent picture. The others toiled on and upward, and at last Gale led Blanco Sol over the rim. Then all looked down the red slope.
It sounds like "Coo-ee!" the first syllable being made deep in the chest, and the other a shrill head note. The Yaqui Indians of northern Mexico take their name from their peculiar war cry, "Ya-kee," which is produced like the Australian coo- ee. I have heard this thrilling cry for a distance of over one mile in the Sierra Madre mountains.
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