A Story of the Colorado

By CHARLES BATTYE As told to the Editor IT WAS a mid-winter night in Southwestern Arizona. A crackling log in the fireplace cast a cheery glow over the simple room. Outside there was desert silence, broken only by the wail of a coyote or the dreaming growls of the dog. The setting was ideal for the spinner of yarns.

"Along in the late 'eighties and early 'nineties I did quite a bit of boating up and down the Colorado River in my avocation of miner and prospector; so when the owner of a little lumber yard in the town of Needles asked me one day if I would make a trip down the river for him, I agreed to do so.

"This lumber-yard man had sold quite a good order of lumber and cement to the Indian agent at the Colorado River Indian reservation in northern Yuma county, about sixty miles down stream, agreeing to deliver the goods F.O.B. the agency landing. My job was to transport the goods to the landing.

"On the river's edge I commenced building a raft out of the lumber. Before the weight became too great I slid it into the water and completed it there. Then I rolled the barrels of cement aboard and stood them upright. Cement, in those days, came packed in barrels weighing three hundred and fifty or four hundred pounds each. I don't remember just how many barrels there were, probably not less than six or more than ten, and there was enough lumber in the raft to ensure their riding high and dry.

"Then I skirmished around and hired a couple of Mojave Indians as crew. These two were young lads of about my own age whom I knew well. One of them was named "Achee", which means "The Fish." The name of the other was "Spanto-roo-ya", which name cannot be translated into polite English. To myself I arrogated the post of captain, with its marifold responsibilities.

"With the necessary provisions and bedding aboard we set forth on our voy-age, encouraged by the good wishes of our friends, white and red, who had gathered on the river bank to see us off. "The stage of the water was just medium, neither very high nor very low, which suited me fine. From our point

Early Freighter Relates Eventful River Journey

of departure to the entrance of Mojave Canyon, where the river breaks its way through the Needles Mountains, most of our work consisted of keeping the raft in the main channel and off the many sandbars. I was in no great hurry; we made camp early and I would take my shotgun and look for ducks before darkness fell.

"While still in this part of the river among the sandbars, I inadvertently and unwillingly furnished the two Mojaves with a grand laugh. It was our custom to jump off into the water whenever we ran aground, to facilitate the refloating of the raft. On one of these occasions we followed the usual procedure - they stepped off on one side and I stepped off on the other, in doing which I displayed poor judgment, for once. The water was unexpectedly deep on my side and I sank clear down out of sight and popped up again choking and spluttering. My hat was floating downstream and it was only by a great effort that one of the Indians controlled his mirth sufficiently to grab one of our long poles and retrieve it. I thought their guffaws of laughter were in mighty poor taste, and although I(Continued on Page 23)