, April, 1872.

SOME of the most dreadful things have occurred since I wrote you last,
and this letter will make you unhappy, I know. To begin with, orders
have actually come from Department Headquarters at Leavenworth for two
companies of infantry here--General Phillips' and Captain Giddings'--to
go to Camp Supply! So that is settled, and we will probably leave this
post in about ten days, and during that time we are expected to sell,
give away, smash up, or burn about everything we possess, for we have
already been told that very few things can be taken with us. I do not
see how we can possibly do with less than we have had since we came
here.

Eliza announced at once that she could not be induced to go where there
are so many Indians--said she had seen enough of them while in New
Mexico. I am more than sorry to lose her, but at the same time I cannot
help admiring her common sense. I would not go either if I could avoid
it.

You will remember that not long ago I said that Lieutenant Baldwin was
urging me to ride Tom, his splendid thoroughbred, as soon as he could be
quieted down a little so I could control him. Well, I was to have ridden
him to-day for the first time! Yesterday morning Lieutenant Baldwin had
him out for a long, hard run, but even after that the horse was nervous
when he came in, and danced sideways along the officers' drive in his
usual graceful way. Just as they got opposite the chaplain's house, two
big St. Bernard dogs bounded over the fence and landed directly under
the horse, entangling themselves with his legs so completely that when
he tried to jump away from them he was thrown down on his knees with
great force, and Lieutenant Baldwin was pitched over the horse's head
and along the ground several feet.

He is a tall, muscular man and went down heavily, breaking three ribs
and his collar bone on both sides! He is doing very well, and is as
comfortable to-day as can be expected, except that he is grieving
piteously over his horse, for the poor horse--beautiful Tom--is utterly
ruined! Both knees have been sprung, and he is bandaged almost as much
as his master.

The whole occurrence is most deplorable and distressing. It seems so
dreadful that a strong man should be almost killed and a grand horse
completely ruined by two clumsy, ill-mannered dogs. One belongs to the
chaplain, too, who is expected to set a model example for the rest of
us. Many, many times during the winter I have ridden b