annals of Fort Yuma.

It was supposed that our command was to constitute the advance of the
"Column" from Fort Yuma. But upon our arrival at that point, we found
that a reconnoitering party, consisting of Company I, First California
Infantry, Captain W. P. Calloway; Company A, First California Cavalry,
Captain William McLeave, and Lieutenant Phelan, with detachments for two
mountain howitzers, had been sent up the Gila river, as the Indians had
reported that a large body of rebels were advancing on Fort Yuma from
Tucson. On the third day after our arrival we crossed over the Colorado
river and continued our march. We passed the divide between the Colorado
and Gila rivers, and arrived at Gila City that afternoon, eighteen
miles. Our route was the old overland stage route on the south side of
the Gila. Here we first saw that peculiar and picturesque cactus, so
characteristic of the country, called by the Indians "_petayah_," but
more generally known as the "_suaro_," and recognized by botanists as
the "_Cereus grandeus_."

Our next march was to Filibuster camp, eleven miles; thence to Antelope
Peak, fifteen; Mohawk, twelve; Texas Hill, eleven; Stanwix, seventeen;
Burke's, twelve miles. Here we found the reconnoitering party, under
Captain Calloway, that had left Fort Yuma a few days before our arrival
there. They had had a brush with the rebels at Picacho, a point about
forty-five miles west of Tucson. Lieutenant Barrett, Company A, First
Cavalry, California Volunteers, and three men of the same company, had
been killed. They had secured three rebel prisoners. The poor devils
were under guard beneath some cottonwoods in their camp. They were now
on their return to Fort Yuma.

The next morning our command moved out with more alacrity than usual,
for we felt that we were now the advance of the "Column," and we would
meet the rebels, too. A short march of twelve miles brought us to Oatman
Flat. We had come down from the high mesa lands into this valley, and as
we passed through near the middle of it, saw upon the right side of the
road a small enclosure of rails, on one end of which was inscribed "The
Oatman Family." We had all heard of this tragedy years before, and now
we were upon the spot where the terrible massacre had been perpetrated.
No one of us could look upon this humble monument without awakening a
feeling of revenge, and many were the silent pledges given that day that
when the opportunity should offer, that