The Weird Sentinel At Squaw Peak

: Myths And Legends Of Our Own Land

There is a cave under the highest butte of the Squaw Peak range, Arizona,

where a party of Tonto Indians was found by white men in 1868. The white

men were on the war-path, and when the Tontos fell into their hands they

shot them unhesitatingly, firing into the dark recesses of the cavern,

the fitful but fast-recurring flashes of their rifles illuminating the

interior and exposing to view the objects of their hatred.

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The massacre over, the cries and groans were hushed, the hunters strode

away, and over the mountains fell the calm that for thousands of years

had not been so rudely broken. That night, when the moon shone into this

pit of death, a corpse arose, walked to a rock just within the entrance,

and took there its everlasting seat.

Long afterward a man who did not know its story entered this place, when

he was confronted by a thing, as he called it, that glared so fearfully

upon him that he fled in an ecstasy of terror. Two prospectors

subsequently attempted to explore the cave, but the entrance was barred

by the thing. They gave one glance at the torn face, the bulging eyes

turned sidewise at them, the yellow fangs, the long hair, the spreading

claws, the livid, mouldy flesh, and rushed away. A Western paper,

recounting their adventure, said that one of the men declared that there

was not money enough in Maricopa County to pay him to go there again,

while the other had never stopped running--at least, he had not returned

to his usual haunts since the thing looked at him. Still, it is haunted

country all about here. The souls of the Mojaves roam upon Ghost

Mountain, and the bad men's hunting-grounds of the Yumas and Navajos

are over in the volcanic country of Sonora. It is, therefore, no unusual

thing to find signs and wonders in broad daylight.