dismounted and walked at his head to give him some relief.

It was perhaps about three o'clock in the morning. A heavy fog had
arisen, and I was riding with the greatest care, when suddenly I found
a musket pointed straight at me, and heard the demand, "Halt, or I
fire!"

The man spoke in Spanish, but his accent showed him to be an Indian,
and I hoped he was one of Miller's cavalry detachment. Whistling
softly, he was at once joined by a second and a third man, the last of
whom sharply ordered me to dismount.

At the sound of his voice I laughed aloud, saying, "You post your men
well, Jose, but they have not made a great capture this time. Is the
colonel here?"

"We are all here," said Jose, giving my hand a grip; "but I thought you
had gone to Arica. Is anything wrong?"

"A good deal," I answered, speaking in English, so that the Indians
might not understand. "I must see Colonel Miller at once."

"Jump down, then. Leave your horse here, and I will take you to him.
Mind where you step; the men are all tucked in and sound asleep."

But for the fog, I could by this time have seen my way clearly; as it
was, I could only just distinguish the ponchos enveloping the men's
heads. When the fog lifted, the light showed a more curious spectacle
than most of you have perhaps ever seen. It was the custom, whenever
we halted in a sandy desert, for each man to scoop out for himself a
shallow grave. In this he lay, scraping the loose sand over his body
for bed-clothes, and leaving his head, wrapped in his poncho, above
ground. It was, indeed, a most comfortable and delicious bed, as in
those days, or rather nights, I often proved.

The colonel lay buried alive, as it were, like his men; but he slept
lightly, and pushing off his sandy bed-clothes at our approach, he
struggled to his feet.

[Illustration: Pushing off his sandy bed-clothes at our approach, he
struggled to his feet.]

"Who is it?" he asked. "Crawford, where is your guide?"

"Gone another way to look for you, colonel."

"Have the brigs left Ilo?"

"Yes; but both Castro and I doubt if they will reach Arica. They are
altogether crazy, and as soon as they left the harbour a strong gale
from the north, which will drive them out of their course, sprang up."

"You are rather a Job's comforter," laughed the colonel. "I daresay
they will arrive all right. Still," he continued, speaking more to
himself, "everything depends upon their safe arrival--ev