hington, Senator Ashurst told me of his
father's death and something of his life at the Canyon. He said that
often in the rush and worry of capitol life he longed for a few peaceful
moments at his father's grave.

I never saw Senator Ashurst at the Grand Canyon, but another senator was
there often, stirring up some row or other with the Government men. He
seemed to think he owned the Canyon, the sky overhead, the dirt
underneath, and particularly the trail thereinto. His hirelings were
numerous, and each and every one was primed to worry Uncle Sam's
rangers. As dogs were prohibited in the Park, every employee of the
Senator's was amply provided with canines. Did the tourists particularly
enjoy dismounting for shade and rest at certain spots on the trail,
those places were sure to get fenced in and plastered with "Keep Off"
signs, under the pretense that they were mining claims and belonged to
him. We used to wonder what time this Senator found to serve his
constituents.

Uncle Sam grew so weary of contesting every inch of the trail that he
set himself to build a way of his own for the people to use. Several men
under the direction of Ranger West were set to trail-building. They made
themselves a tent city on the north side of the river and packers were
kept busy taking mule loads of materials to them daily. Hundreds of
pounds of TNT were packed down safely, but one slippery morning the
horses which had been pressed into service lost their footing, slid over
the edge of the trail, and hit Bright Angel again a thousand feet below.
The packers held their breath expecting to be blown away, as two of the
horses that fell were loaded with the high explosive. It was several
minutes before they dared believe themselves safe. They sent for White
Mountain, and when he reached the animals he found they were literally
broken to pieces, their packs and cargoes scattered all over the side of
the mountain. They dragged the dead animals a few feet and dropped them
into a deep fissure which was handy. Fresh snow was scraped over the
blood-stained landscape, and when the daily trail party rode serenely
down a few minutes later there was nothing to show that a tragedy had
taken place.

Later an enormous charge of this high explosive was put back of a point
that Rees Griffith, the veteran trail-builder, wished to remove, and the
result was awaited anxiously. About four in the afternoon Rees called
Headquarters and reported that the shot