HE TIED THAT STEER..

He Tied That Steer Burt Mossman Came Through With A Flourish

BURTON C. MOSSMAN, of the Hashknife, bellowed the announcer. The Phoenix rodeo crowd sat up a little straighter while a flurry of feminine handelapping greeted the name. According to the dope sheet he stood a good chance of winning the steer roping and tying contest, given the breaks. He looked a winner a picture of careless grace atop his well-trained painted horse, as he nonchalantly built his loop. White teeth flashed in a friendly grin as he acknowledged the plaudits of the crowd, and the wide-brimmed Stetson went back on the black curls at a rakish angle. The chute gate opened to allow a powerful range steer to charge out, tail aloft, head lowered, horns swaying from side to side. Horse and rider looked like a single powerful coiled spring as they watched the critter gain speed on the twenty-five foot head start permitted by the rules. The minute that mark was passed the alert pinto was pounding in pursuit. Mossman, a picture of assurance, rose in his stirrups, his rope circling snakelike as he made his cast, shooting for the wide-spreading horns. It would be hard to explain how it happened and I guess Mossman couldn't either but his loop was too big and missed the horns, settling down over the steer's head. The rope was tied fast to the saddle horn and of course the pinto set himselfas soon as he felt the cast. By that time the steer was running like a jackrabbit. The rope tightened with a jerk, but the steer's momentum was such that Mossman and his mount were dragged after, forty per, despite their best efforts. Something had to give, and it proved to be the cinch-in a day of single-cinch saddles! That hull came off a'flying-and Mossman still aboard! There he stayed for full fifty feet, hauling back all the way, and digging in his heels, but going plenty fast anyway! Finally the rope choked the steer down and he keeled over. Mossman was on top like a flash, piggin' string in hand, and tied that critter with a flourish-right in front of the grandstand! Burt Mossman was like that a glamorous sort of a daredevil with a gift for the sensational, and the gambling instinct. As the fighting foreman of the Hashknife, and later as the first captain of the Arizona Rangers, he played a not inconsiderable part in pioneering Arizona, and played it with a swaggering dash which made him a sort of frontier Don Juan. He was handsome, a good mixer, and perfectly fearless, but liked the reputation of being tough and ran with the wild bunch, although he had a good head on his shoulders. Today he is one of the biggest cattlemen in the United States,headquartering out of Roswell, New Mex-ico.

He was foreman of the Hashknife at the time when it was fighting for its life against rustlers who clung like a vicious swarm of mosquitoes.

Anxious to deal summarily with the thieves, yet wishing to remain technically within the law, the Hashknife foreman arranged with Sheriff F. W. Wattron of Navajo county to be deputized and work in cooperation with Deputy Joe Bargman, a giant, who "didn't know enough to be scared." The two of them put a decided damper on rustling even though some of their ambitious projects ended in failure. They were bucking a hard game.

Certain that a gang of cattle thieves were operating around Holbrook, they had a Mexican suspect thrown into jail and held incommunicado. As Mossman was dark-complexioned and could speak Span-ish like a native he undertook to get the desired information. Donning a hickory shirt, a pair of tattered Levis, and some busted down boots, he rubbed some dirt into the three days' growth of beard on his face and had himself thrown into the calaboose with the suspect.

By morning he had wormed his way into the man's confidence sufficiently to learn of an underground cache on Silver Creek where stolen beeves were hung, the rustlers coming and carving off steaks at need.

Mossman then gave the jailor the wink, so that night the officers came and dragged him away, again furnishing a good show for the watching Mexican.

When everything was ready he was released and Mossman and Bargman trailed him to Silver Creek rendezvous. Both were hopeful that the rustlers there might accidentally be killed resisting ar-rest.

When the Mexican neared the hideout Bargman threw down on him, roaring: "Reach for your ears!"

Instead he jumped like a scared buck and lit behind a big pine tree. As if on a signal two or three other Mexicans began pumping lead.

Joe and Burt, well satisfied, picked themselves a couple of big pines and got ready for war.

"Spat!" went a bullet into a tree a little above Burt's ear and "zing!" it whistled out the other side!

"My God, Joe! Let's get out of here quick!" yelled Mossman. "Them hombres are shooting plumb through the trees!"

It was his first experience of steel-nosed bullets. He excused himself back in Holbrook.

"My God, when they begin shooting right through the trees, what can a man do? When a man's not safe behind a big pine, the game's all wrong!"

While they rawhided the Hashknife foreman a good bit about it, his action was characteristic. He was brave without being fool-hardy.

Mossman later had nerve enough when it came to facing down Bill Young, reputed rustler king, who Mossman was convinced had burned a certain Hash-knife steer.

Together with the late Will C. Barnes he watched Young at roundup and, when he began to cut the critter in question, Mossman shouted, "Turn back that steer!"

Young was surprised and injured, pointing out that the animal wore his brand, whereupon Mossman resorted to the usual cowman expedient to prove ownership. As only the original brand shows as a scar on the side of the hide he had the critter beefed and the hide turned.

The Hashknife brand showed up clear as handwriting. There wasn't a sign of Young's brand.

Burt looked at him hard.

"Now, you damned thief, I'm calling your hand! What are you going to do about it? I'll give you your choice. I'll match you twenty dollar gold pieces, or we'll spit at a mark, or I'll run a footrace with you, or we'll shoot it out. Don't make a bit of difference to me!"

Young just smiled sort of sick and didn't say a word. He was a killer, and later swung for it, but he was in a Hash-knife crowd. He knew many cowboys were disloyal to Mossman but still he was afraid to start anything.

Mossman's only alternative was to take the case to court where Young beat the rap claiming he was as much surprised as anybody when the reversed hide did not show his brand.

He continued to steal Hashknife cattle, making himself so much of a nuisance, and at the same time covering his trail socleverly that Mossman eventually decided to take the law into his own hands. Learning the thief was expected to return to his home ranch late that night Mossman and a friend slipped away and hid in the brush across from the locked gate. While it was still light enough they got their pieces sky-lined so that they could hit anybody attempting to unlock the gate in the dark. They waited all night but left at dawn when their quarry failed to appear.

Mossman later worked out the trail of stolen Hashknife cattle through the Navajo reservation into Colorado. When he arrived at Canon City, Colorado, with a complete case against Young he found his man about to be executed there for murder. He let it go at that. The reputation made as foreman of the Hashknife made Mossman the natural choice as first captain of the Arizona Rangers when continued lawlessness brought that splendid organization into being. In the fall of 1901 he recruited his force up to the thirteen man limit allowed by law, choosing them on general proficiency with the gun, the rope, and the cowpony. Few of them have graced a Sunday school. In fact one qualified contemporary refers to them as "the dangdest bunch of killers ever gotten together"

But they did put a crimp in lawlessness, driving out two of the most notable gangs of stock thieves in the territory in their first year of service. They earned their $55.00 a month. Within a month after they were mustered in, Rangers Carlos Tafolla and Duane Hamblin led a posse of St. Johns cattlemen into the White Mountains

where they surprised the Bill Smith gang of stock thieves on Reservation Creek. In a running battle fought just before dusk the impetuous Tafolla was killed the only Ranger killed on duty in the eight years of the service but the Smith gang never stopped running until they were across the line and they never came back!

A few months later when word came that the Musgrove gang, a remnant of Black Jack's famous bunch of killers, was operating in the White Mountain country, a group of Rangers and deputies under Sheriff Jim Parks of Clifton rounded up a suspected ranch by the light of the moon, and arrested "Shorty" Daniels in bed with his Winchester as a sleeping partner. The next day they gathered in two more well known outlaws as they were rounding up stolen horses on the open range. The Musgrove band was heard of no more.

Mossman's personal popularity and energy had gotten the Rangers away on the right foot but he had taken the job at considerable personal sacrifice and had no intention of rounding out his career on a salary of $125.00 a month not when he heard big business calling just around the corner. He was ready for a change yet characteristically he didn't just quit. He looked around for a dramatic exit.

The most noted criminal in this part of the country at the time was Augustin Chacon, Mexican murderer, who made a hobby of killing American peace officers a man as deadly as a rattlesnake, who headed a band of border cutthroats. Working through Alvord and Stiles, as slippery a pair of outlaws as Arizona ever saw, Mossman arranged to meet Chacon on the Mexican side of the border. Gambling his life on the scheme, he posed as a stock thief, meeting the outlaw at the chosen rendezvous.

They sat around a campfire discussing the proposed raid on the neighboring Green cattle ranch, the suspicious Chacon watching Mossman's every move like a cat.

As they talked the Ranger deliberately let his pipe go out. Slowly he stood up, stretched, and bent to take a brand from the fire to relight it. When he snapped erect his gun was in his hand, covering an outlaw too surprised to resist.

When Mossman appeared on the American side with the badly wanted fugitive, whom he had actually kidnaped out of Mexico, he was a front page sensation. As Mulford Winsor puts it, "In all the annals of Arizona's criminal history there had been no feat performed by any peace officer to compare with it."

As usual he had tied that steer in front of the grandstand. And with a flourish!

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How that bunch of loyal friends worked. Jones' program was one advocating a business administration for the state government. On the speaking platform his “million-dollar” smile and his friendliness and simple manner of expression made him new friends wherever he appeared. He led the Democratic ticket to a sweeping victory in the general election and was hailed as one of the most popular candidates the state ever had. So Senator Jones became Governor Jones. And now the governor is working overtime introducing this state when time and opportunity permits.

People may wonder what kind of a governor Bob Jones will be. There is one thing certain he'll be a hard-working governor, honestly and sincerely trying and doing his best. That's about all you can expect of any man.

ARIZONA SKETCH BOOK

Introducing a “business administration” in state government and the people are cheering. It looks very much like Bob Jones is going to be a people's governor.

In private life, Governor and Mrs. Jones live simply and comfortably with their children-a daughter, Kathryn, who is a student at the University of Arizona, and a son, Albert Claude, who goes to Phoenix high school.

Crude or badly drawn, was worth all the imitations in the world.

After Art Institute his road led him to New York. Friends and classmates like Neysa McMein, Lucille Patterson, Rolf Armstrong and Anita Parkhurst were breaking into print. Santee enjoyed little success. He turned from one thing The governor is a rabid football fan, and never misses an important game in to another, comics and political cartoons, and was going no place fast.

to another, comics and political cartoons, and was going no place fast.

“My friends were free with everything, an' each one gave advice, until I didn't know whether I was afoot or mounted on a horse,” he writes.

A friend, Tom Benton, seeing some sketches, “I'd really made for fun without any attempt at using the bag of tricks I'd learned from someone else” admired them and suggested a perusal of the drawings of Daumier.

“It was that book of Daumier's draw-ings that made up my mind for me,” Santee writes, “for he put things down just like he saw or felt the thing, without the sign of a trick. So simple an' honest they were, to my mind his drawings have never been equaled. An' something rolled off my back that night as I walked home that had bothered me for years.

“I didn't intend to copy Daumier or imitate his style, but I made up my mind I'd try an' do things my own way, an' put things down the way I saw an' felt the thing, no matter what else came.” Then Ross Santee headed for Arizona “to wrangle horses for a cow outfit for fifty dollars a month.” A year after he arrived in Arizona he began to draw to draw the western scene as it appeared to him. The work of Ross Santee is real and authentic. He never fakes a line or shams a feeling. When his western sketches, drawing and story, became known in the east, Ross Santee was on his way up.

He illustrates his own books and stories. He did the illustrations for Stru-thers Burt's “Powder River” in the Riv-ers of America series, and he is now working on the illustrations for “We Headed Them North,” the story of “Teddy Blue,” old time Texas trail driver, to be published shortly by Farrer and Rine-hart.

If we were very learned and knew all about art, we could bang out a nifty on why Ross Santee is a great artist. We can't tell you why he is a great artist, but he is.

We do know his stuff is real and honest and true. You can't ride a horse for years over the broad ranges of Arizona without knowing the horse and the range and the people therein. That's why he's good. He knows and feels the subject, and he's workman enough to put his knowledge and feeling on paper. His pic-tures consist of simple lines, bold, simple lines, portraying action and depth and understanding of the west.

Arizona of the open range, of lonely ranch houses and herds of cattle, of the solitary rider crossing the broad mesaArizona of vast spaces and lonely nights and hot days in the sunThis Arizona has no more faithful portrayer than Ross Santee. Mr. Santee is State Director, Federal Writers, W. P. A.-R. C.

ARIZONA'S MODERN IRRIGATORS

of the Yuma Indian reservation en route. Just west of Yuma, an inverted siphon was laid under the river to convey water to the Arizona side and serve 50,000 acres in Yuma Valley.

This siphon was completed in 1912, when the irrigation area was only 13,642 acres. Through the next few years the valley experienced a feverish development period as land was cleared and began to produce bountiful crops of alfalfa, sorghums, grain, cotton, cantaloupes; eventually pecans, lettuce and other winter vegetables were added to the list of major products. The flood menace was ended by a levee system, and drainage ditches were dug in the lower part of the valley to hold the water table below the root zone of plants.

So much water is available that it is unnecessary to measure it out to farmers of Yuma Valley, as is done in other irrigation projects. Each pays his proportion of operating costs on an acreage basis, with no account taken of how much he uses. This abundance has its drawbacks in a tendency to over-irrigate and raise the ground-water level, which is always high since the surface is only a few feet above the river. Constant warnings against too free application of water are issued by the Bureau of Reclamation, which still manages the system. Ultimately, of course, Yuma Valley will be apportioned its share of what is stored behind Boulder Dam.

In 1920 work was begun on the “Auxiliary project” to pump water from the valley canals and irrigate 45,000 acres on Yuma Mesa. Up to this time only 1500 acres have been reclaimed, although conditions have proved virtually ideal for citrus. In fact, most of the 1500 acres are in grapefruit groves that produce extraordinary yields of splendid quality; any improvement in the demand will be a signal for expansion. The University of Arizona's Citrus Experiment Station is there, carrying on tests and investigations of importance to the whole state. Recently the University began trying out midwinter tomatoes and other vegetables which may prove profitable on the almost frost-free Yuma Mesa. Today the Imperial dam, on the Colo rado 17 miles north of Yuma, is practi cally complete. Built primarily to di vert water into California's immense In the All-American canal, it also has deep significance for Arizona.

In the first place, it will no longer be necessary to maintain Laguna dam; the Yuma project canal will be supplied from the All-American. That, however, is only incidental. Imperial dam is going to divert water for at least 150,000 Ari zona acres that now produce only cacti and greasewood, and ultimately it will serve over half a million acres.

It was in 1934 that the Bureau of Rec lamation, seeking the most feasible way to utilize in Arizona part of the Colorado water stored behind the $114,000,000 Boulder dam, made a thorough survey of Yuma county. A voluminous report recommended that water be placed on a total of 585,000 acres, stretching all the way from Yuma Valley and Yuma Mesa to a point near Sentinel, 12 miles over the Maricopa county line.

Officially this gigantic undertaking is known as the Gila project; in Arizona because of its location and to avoid con fusion with the upper Gila Valley, it is commonly called the Yuma-Gila project. It is divided into six units, which the Bureau of Reclamation proposes to take up and complete one at a time.

Frankly, it is doubted that the entire project will be carried out in the lifetime of anyone now living. Out of the doubt ful class, however, is Unit No. 1, a rough triangle lying southeast of Yuma, bound ed on the south by the Mexican line, on the east by the Gila mountains-only 11,000 acres north of the Gila river.

Work on an irrigation system for this division, estimated to cost a little over $20,000,000, was started in 1936. It is now so far along that the Bureau of Reclamation may beat its own schedule calling for water delivery to the first 10,000 acres by 1943. A canal from the Imperial dam down to the Gila is almost finished, built so that it can be enlarged as other units are added. An inverted siphon under the Gila's bed, 11 miles northeast of Yuma, is well along. This huge tube of reinforced concrete, 19 feet in diameter, 4,250 feet long, is the most spectacular piece of irrigation construction under way in Arizona today. Near its discharge end will be a pumping plant to raise the water 52 feet, and several smaller units will be required to reach all the land.. Eventually there must be several larger pumps to force the water over the Gila mountains for divisions farther east. Electricity for all this is to be supplied through a transmission line from Parker dam, 130 miles away.

A start has also been made on the $10,000,000 Headgate Rock project to irrigate 90,000 acres of the Colorado River Indian reservation, not far below Parker.

If we count in that part of Yuma Mesa yet to feel the plow, and miscellaneous small localities, it all adds up to 716,000 Yuma county acres that in the next few decades some within the next few years -will be transformed from sterile desert into fertile farms. That is with Colorado river water, and takes no account of what may be irrigated from under ground by pumps.

A liberal estimate of the total Arizona land now under irrigation, both with gravity water and by pumps, is 660,000 acres.

Truly the days of irrigation develop ment in Arizona are not over.

Third Arizona district to be given an adequate irrigation system through fed eral aid and credit, is Casa Grande Valley.

Here, as in Salt River Valley, the main feature is storage-impounding flood waters of the Gila river in a reser voir from which they are released as needed.

No agricultural section of the Copper State looks backward to a more checkered career or to a more brilliant future. The struggle to maintain dams and canals was especially severe, for one reason or another. There was more bickering and "lawing" between farmers and the cor porations that undertook to operate the canals as utilities. Once the land owners under the old Florence canal, then in re ceivership, defied the receiver and the court, took possession of the irrigation works, and saved their crops. Forty of them were arrested for contempt and un lawful seizure, sued for $50,000 damagés.

But it was not possible to imprison a whole community of desperate farmers, nor to collect judgments from them. All the court could do was to issue an in junction and assess them with costs of the litigation, which a good many never paid.

After adoption of the National Recla mation Act, and even before, earnest ef forts were made to have the first dam built on the Gila, to conserve and regulate its flow, bring bountiful crops every year and permanent prosperity for many fam ilies in place of poverty and uncertainty. But the site proposed by Casa Grande Valley residents, at Riverside above Flor ence, was deemed by Reclamation Service engineers to be inferior to the Tonto site on Salt river. Had they proposed the San Carlos site instead, it is possible that theirs would have been the first U. S. reclamation project in Arizona instead of the third.

Two or three more sites were investi gated before a board of army engineers found one that filled all requirements, just below the Apache Indian agency at San Carlos and fifty miles up the river from Florence. A long campaign, which at times seem ed hopeless, ensued before Congress made an appropriation and authorized con struction of what is today known as the Coolidge dam. The argument that finally won favorable action was the debt of the white man to the "peaceful Pimas" at Sacaton.

When Padre Kino came to Arizona he found the Pimas farming quietly and living an idyllic pastoral life, right where they farm today. The river flowing past their rancherias was broad and gen tle, swarming with fish, a great contrast to the present dry, sandy, dusty bed. By 1870, diversions of white settlers above had so depleted their water supply that they were eking out a precarious exist ence with the government assistance, by selling wood, and other expedients.

So the Indian Bureau threw its in fluence behind the San Carlos project, urged that the great wrong be righted. Support of the Indian Rights Association and many influential individuals was en listed. Result was an unusual irrigation partnership between the redskins of Sacaton and the palefaces of Casa Grande Valley. Coolidge dam was built, a canal system was laid out, to serve 50,000 acres in the valley, 50,000 on the reservation.

On June 6, 1924, Congress passed the authorizing act. Whites and reds, gath ered at the town of Casa Grande, joined in a hilarious celebration when the long awaited news ticked over the wires from Washington.

Coolidge dam, dedicated in March of 1930, cost $5,500,000 and the entire project cost close to $10,000,000. Reservoir capacity is 1,200,000 acre-feet. When it is full it stretches back 23 miles and is 5 miles wide. Travelers over U. S. High way 60, which crosses the Gila on the crest of the dam, rub their eyes when they come in sight of that shining lake amid desert surroundings where one might expect to see a mirage, certainly not a body of water of any such proportions. Unfortunately, the reservoir has sel dom been full. Most of the intervening years have been dry years on the Gila watershed, with run-off below averages. Nevertheless, benefits have been enor mous; that they have not come all the way up to expectations is merely an accident of climate. The supply of "grav ity" water has been greatly augmented by pumping so that, with careful manage ment, the total in most seasons has been sufficient. Casa Grande Valley's soil This has been prodigiously fruitful, has added no little to the wealth of Arizona. Now the usefulness of the project is about to be enhanced by construction of a $5,000,000 supplementary dam at "the Buttes," only 25 miles from Florence. Storage capacity there is not great but it will make available to the valley all water from the San Pedro. This extremely variable stream, a torrent and a trickle by turns, empties into the Gila below Coolidge dam, and much of its flow rushes by, unused. Around the project lands in Casa Grande Valley there has been more "pump development" in recent years than anywhere else in Arizona. Pumps furnish all the water for thousands upon thousands of acres of cotton, alfalfa, sorghums, winter vegetables and other crops. That whole country is underlaid with a vast underground sea, most of which percolates in from the south. The water is within economical "lift" and so abundant that its level has been lowered only a trifle by the heavy drafts upon it.

A notable example of what can be done with pump irrigation is seen in the area south of Eloy, where the black soil of Santa Cruz wash is incredibly fertile. In one year, 1937, about 50 wells were drilled and something like 15,000 desert acres were brought into production.

Water storage is still a dream on the Gila above Coolidge dam, but a dream that bids fair to come true. The farmers of Graham and Greenlee counties are often short in summer. A number of pumps installed in the last year or two have helped much, and more are planned. Gila Valley, as the farming section around Safford is called, has had a permanent diversion dam only since 1935. As part of its relief program the U. S. government supplied labor and equipment, farmers bought the material, for a structure 400 feet long-two rows of interlocking steel piling 20 feet apart, with boulders between. This has resulted in a much more reliable water supply than in the old brush days. Only with storage, however, can the aspirations of the sturdy Mormon pioneers and their modern descendants be fully realized. Several sites are available and it is unlikely that the construction of impounding dams will be delayed much longer. It is true, however, that some questions of water rights as between the San Carlos project and the "upper Gila" remain to be settled. Scattered along the Little Colorado and its tributaries in the northeastern part of the state are a number of small farming communities, 28,800 acres in all. These communities are mostly Mormon people, and most of them enjoy a fair degree of prosperity. Up to this time there have been only two attempts to store water, both for districts very small as compared with the large Bureau of Reclamation projects in the south. Because of mistakes in construction, also an overestimation of the available water, the Lyman dam project, near St. Johns, has not worked out very well. A more recent undertaking, in the vicinity of Snowflake, is evidently a success.

In the Little Colorado basin are other opportunities for storage which may raise the total annual use of water to 150,000 acre-feet, or even more. Relatively inexpensive dams would not only add to the irrigated acreage, but would also protect valuable range lands from erosion. As this is written, the U. S. Army Engineer Corps is making a preliminary survey. North of Prescott in Chino Valley is a small but highly productive agricultural district watered partly from wells, partly from storage on Granite and Willow creeks. Further expansion is likely to depend chiefly on the underground water supply.

With a few exceptions on the San Pedro, Santa Cruz and Hassayampa, this is largely true of most of Arizona outside of Yuma county. Our surface waters, other than from the Colorado, are mostly appropriated. Not all of them are used to the best advantage, it is true; but this will be cured with additional storage facilities. Another point to remember is that ways will certainly be found to increase the duty of water. That is, to grow crops with less moisture. Our clever irrigators have already made long strides in this direction. Sulphur Springs Valley is one area That is destined for great agricultural growth, but mostly with pumped water. It has some pumps now; but they must be operated with combustion engines, so only a fraction of the land and water is being used. Today a rural electrifica-tion project is in progress of organization. When cheap power is to be had, We can look for a boom in Sulphur Springs Valley.

The rise of pump irrigation is a fascinating phase of Arizona's advance to her present status as the state where the per-acre income of farmers is highest of all. In pioneer times pumping was often attempted, usually with steam boilers and wood as fuel. But the ma-chinery of those days was so imperfect and inefficient that failure was the invariable result. Only shallow water, within 40 to 50 feet at the most, could be pumped at all. With the deep-well turbine the inventors filled a real need and made homes for tens of thousands on Lands that, without water, were suitable only for grazing, sometimes not even for that.

Pumps now lift part of the water for every major irrigation district except Yuma, all of it for a number of small districts and individual farms. In fact, one of the "majors" is entirely a pump project. This is the Roosevelt Irrigation District of 40,000 acres, in the west end of Maricopa county. Its paralleling and much older neighbor on the south, the 20,000-acre Buckeye Valley, is a "halfand-half." So is the 41,000-acre Roosevelt Water Conservation District, east of Mesa and Chandler. On beyond the R. W. C. D. is the "vegetable bowl" of Rittenhouse, where ground water is so plentiful and pumping so cheap that the farmers say they are glad they have no dams and canals to worry about.

So we draw to the close of a very sketchy and incomplete account of irrigation in Arizona, from the Ho-ho-kam to the Bureau of Reclamation, from the stone hoe to the drag-line shovel. It is well realized that it will be criticized for glaring omissions, and that its feeble essay at forecasting the trend of future development will excite snorts of derision in some quarters. There has been no mention of a dozen topics for which notes were made when this series was begun. The evolution of water right law, for instance. The actual mechanics of irrigation. The jargon of the irrigator, as incomprehensible to the uninitiated as the chant of the tobacco auctioneer.

mention of a dozen topics for which notes were made when this series was begun. The evolution of water right law, for instance. The actual mechanics of irrigation. The jargon of the irrigator, as incomprehensible to the uninitiated as the chant of the tobacco auctioneer.

It is impossible, in four short magazine articles, to give more than a hint of irrigation's inception and progress in Arizona, and its importance to the state. The subject is so vast that it deserves a four-volume history. Some day, let us hope, a competent historian will undertake the task. Yet, when he seeks a logical place to end his narrative, he will be in the same quandary that besets this writer. For there is no end to Arizona irrigation. The achievements that we have already witnessed, magnificent and inspiring though they are they are only the beginning.

Besh-Ba-Gowah THE ANCIENT CITY.

(Continued from Page 11) Different minerals had been used; hematite, limonite, copper, etc. Some of this paint was now being ground on the small stone paint metates and then being mixed with water. Some vegetable paints which had been boiled down to the right consistency were also used. We watched a woman paint a bowl with three colors (that type of pottery which we today call Gila polychrome.) First, a white or cream coloring slip was placed over the inside surface of the bowl; a red slip on the outside was next and then a design in black painted on the inside on the cream-colored base. It was the design now commonly called the "bird wing" design which was a favorite of the inhabitants of Besh-ba-gowah.

Looking further we might have seen someone weaving cotton into cloth and another making sandals. Both of these latter tasks might have been done by the men, if we judge them by standards among the Indians of today. Some of the bone awls and other bone implements that they used were being made from deer and turkey bones. As the stone implements were utilitarian objects, there were probably several stone axes, hammers, arrowshaft straighteners, and hoes being made. The numerous attacks of nomadic tribes of the region and the necessity of hunting caused a great demand for bows and arrows.

Judging from the abundance of ornaments found in the site today there must have been constant work on them. Expeditions were often sent and trades with other groups made to acquire at least eleven or twelve distinct types of shell from the Gulf of Lower California. To this supply of material was added: pottery, stone, bone and turquoise (turquoise from the prehistoric quarries found in this region.) From these materials bracelets, finger rings, pendants, anklets and necklaces were fashioned. Some of the pendants were rectangular and some were cut into shapes of animals or birds. A few of the shell bracelets had incised designs and some of the shells were painted. Several necklaces consisted of combination of shell and turquoise beads and a few were made up of stone, pottery, shell, and turquoise small discoidal beads. Besides seeing some of these in the making, we probably would have seen many wearing them. It is doubtful that we would have caught a glimpse of even one of the three copper bells found at Besh-ba-gowah. (These were the only objects of metal uncovered.) While some of these people were away on hunting trips, others were away on trading trips. This trade is evidenced in the finding of pottery pieces from Chihuahua, Mexico; the Little Colorado, the Roosevelt, and the Tucson areas of Arizona, and the Tularosa region of Arizona and New Mexico.

Likely some of these people would have invited us into their houses. Usually one room served as the living quarters for a family. To enter, we had to climb up a ladder, cross the roof and climb down another ladder through an opening called a hatchway. There were no other openings in the room. There was a fire in the small sunken firepit in the adobe floor. One or two upright posts supported the roof. Stone axes with handles attached and a few pottery ollas filled with grain or water were sitting in the corners of the room. There was no furniture but skins and reed mats were in evidence.

We were allowed to go into other rooms.

A few of them had small side doorways, as well as, or instead of, hatchways. Some rooms were used entirely for storage age and were smaller than the living rooms. In one of these we saw numerous large storage jars and baskets.

If our visit to the village were of long enough duration we might have been there during an attack. The need that these people had for protection is evidenced by the finding of double walls, small doorways, and the selection of high mesa sites.

Possibly we could have watched some of them making ceremonial paraphernaliamasks, headdresses, etc. As to the type of ceremonies we might have seen no one can be certain.

We discovered that there were many other villages in the vicinity and visited them. In all, we learned and witnessed many things at Besh-ba-gowah.

We now concluded that we must resume our journey. As we were leaving, we looked back at the sight of the village. We could see many climbing down the hatchways; some working in the patios it all looked familiar to us nowsome one was carrying an olla of water up to the village, others were disappearing over the edge of the mesa with their stone hoes, and a hunting group, armed with bows and arrows was disappearing in the distance toward the Pinal mountains. Thus we left Besh-ba-gowah about 1350 A. D.

So, too, did the people all leave Beshba-gowah by the year 1400 A. D. Nomadic attacks and droughts caused them to abandon the pueblo and move on into another region. Today, in 1938, the old walls echo with voices, as many people interested in the prehistoric past visit Besh-ba-gowah.