As told by Virginia Vauthier

Charles was lonely. His brother John Burns has just left for school at the University of Arizona. It wasn’t far away. The two boys had been doing everything together for so long it was like a part of him was missing.

“Guess I will go for in the desert on Ol’Bird, he told himself. The flea bitten gray was really his mama’s horse, left to her by her Dad in his will. The boys had both learned to ride on her. Charles thought of this as he saddled Bird. He missed Pa, too, but this was different. John was his big brother. He mounted Bird and away they went.

Charles’ mind wandered. Bird, a funny name for a horse, but Mama said she could fly like a real bird. He wished John were here to ride with him. Dad was always too busy; at least, that is what he always said. Charles looked at the sky; it was real blue today. The sun was warm on his face and bright in his eyes. He gave his hat a tug to be sure it was on tight, gave Bird a nudge with his right heel and she really did seem to fly.

Charles was beginning to feel better. He really looked at his surroundings and knew he was farther out on the desert than he had ever been before. ‘Better go back now,’ he told himself. Just as he thought this, Bird stepped in a gopher hole and Charles felt Bird start to fall. He thought I better hit rolling because we are going fast. He did just that so when he glimpsed the edge of the slot in the ground he couldn’t stop. Then he was falling even more. He landed with a thud in what felt like desert sand. The wind was knocked out of him. He lay for a few minutes without moving. Then he checked everything out; nothing was broken. Then he looked around. His hat was not with him; it must have come off when he first hit the ground. He sat up and saw he was on a ledge about ten or twelve foot from the top of the ground. He could not climb out. The ledge was narrow. He looked down and down to darkness.

“Gee, it was a good thing this ledge was here,” he mused. He moved his leg. A small rock fell over the edge. He listened. The stone bounced downward sending back a message, not clearly understood by Charles. He was scared but in control. He looked both ways, as far as he could tell this was a long crack in the ground. He looked down again. Yes, he thought he could go down all right. Maybe he could find a place narrow enough to climb out. He started down slowly. When he had climbed for a long time he stopped to stand and look around again. The rocks felt cool to his hands. The light was softer; there were shadows deeper than on the ledge. Maybe coming down was a mistake.

Just a little farther down his feet touched soft sand. He was in a small rounded room maybe fifty feet below the surface. The light inside surprised him. It was indirect light bounced down from ledge to ledge and separated into many shades. As Charles looked up an expression of wonder came over his face. At the top was a warm golden glow that shaded into yellow then red and cold blue at the bottom. The shape of this place was awesome, all waves, curls and arches, sweeping ridges, the sort of features only wind and water could make. It was all made of stone yet as fluid as the forces that had shaped it. Up top was harsh sunlight, hot sand, scrub brush and cactus. Down here cool air, soft light, a pleasant shady refuge. He still wanted OUT.

He marked the place with three stones and started to find some place to climb up. He walked along the sand looking at the beautiful shapes and colors for about a mile then he stopped to listen. He thought he heard running water. Deciding he was just thirsty, he moved on. The sound of water grew louder. He followed the sound and came to a huge open place just like a valley or a mountain basin. The water bubbling from a small crack in the rock made a small stream. Cattails, lilies, ferns, orchids and cottonwoods grew beside it. Tree frogs, cliff swallows, flycatchers, water striders and a hundred other living things were there, too. When Charles saw the living creatures in and on the water, he drank his fill.

In another half mile, the canyon gradually grew smaller. A few steps more and it was so narrow he could reach from one side to the other and looking up there was just a little string of blue sky to be seen. He stood still a short period of time and decided this was the place. He climbed and rested, climbed and rested. Just when he began to wonder if he had the strength to get back to the top, he felt the hot sun on his head. The last little way was easy. Charles sat on the hot desert sand and it all seemed like a dream. His hat was gone and he had no horse with him. It was not a dream. The slot canyon was the desert’s hidden treasure.

Charles stood up and started the long walk home. Suddenly, he sensed he was not alone. He looked in the direction he thought home would be and about a mile away he could seem movement. In about five minutes the figure of his Dad and two horses came into full view. A little closer and his Dad waved his hat.

Bird had gone home without his rider, so Dad had saddled his horse and given Bird her head. She took him to Charles’ hat, where he read the sign on the dirt and began to follow the slot until he saw Charles appear out of the ground.

This was a day to remember, a true adventure Charles didn’t care to repeat for a while.