, (Providence, R. I.). The next day's march brought
us to the little village of El Paraje del Fra Cristobal. Near the spot
on which the camp was made, was the peaceful flowing and muddy Rio
Grande. A short march of five miles brought us to our destination--Fort
Craig. Our arrival was in January, 1863.

The company remained at this post during the year 1863, monotony of
garrison life being relieved by furnishing escorts to wagon trains bound
north and south, and an occasional scout after Indians. In July of that
year, Assistant Surgeon Watson, who had been commissioned at Sacramento,
California, more than a year before, and had been ordered to report to
the headquarters of his regiment at Fort Craig, arrived at Fort McRae,
without accident. On leaving that post, Captain Greene had furnished him
with one government wagon and an escort of five or six men of his
company. They set out with joyful anticipation; the Doctor was delighted
to know that after a year's travel, he would soon be at his new home,
and be doing duty with his own regiment, which he had never seen. The
wagon, with its occupants, soon emerged from the canon of the _Ojo del
Muerto_, and came out on the hard, smooth, natural road of the
_Jornada_. About the middle of the afternoon, they were proceeding
leisurely along; twelve miles in advance could be plainly seen the
buildings of Fort Craig, with "Old Glory" on the flag-staff. The driver
of the team, Johnson, a soldier of Greene's company, sat on his near
wheel-mule chatting pleasantly with the Doctor, who occupied the front
of the wagon, with his feet hanging down on the whiffle-trees; the
escort were all in the wagon, lying on their blankets, with their arms
and equipments beneath them. Within five miles of them there was not a
rock, tree, shrub, or bush, as large as a man's head--they felt a
perfect security. Another moment, how changed! There arose from the sand
of the desert, where they had buried themselves, some ten or twelve
Apaches, within twenty feet of the moving wagon, and poured a volley of
arrows into the doomed party, and closing in immediately, a part
attacked the occupants of the wagon, while the rest disengaged the
mules, and mounting their backs started for the mountains on the west,
towards the river, and before the soldiers were out of the wagon were
out of reach of their fire. Doctor Watson was shot with two arrows, one
in his right arm, and the other on the inside of his right thigh,