He wished he could run, he wanted desperately to get home to his beautiful wife. The pack on his back contained a number of things they needed badly a... his plantation. The cartons of percussion caps were worth their weight in gold. With out them all their firearms, with the exception of several old flintlock fowling pieces, were useless. They were down to only enough for three shots per weapon. They had plenty of powder and lead for balls but they couldn’t be used without the caps. He had not. He had missed his ride with relatives to the reservation at White Mountain and was grateful that I came along. I, too, was glad that I had stopped the previous night and avoided the snowstorm.We wound our way higher and higher toward the high country. Soon, we running through deepening patches of ice and snow, but we were behind the cinder truck, so we had good traction and great visibility.Some of the most enjoyable scenery you will find is spread along Route 60. The Salt River Canyon may not. More

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