elled by train to the nearest railroad point,
Holbrook, found an army ambulance about to convey the commanding officer
to Camp Apache, and he was good enough to allow me to accompany him part
of the way. It was a great advantage to me, as otherwise there was no
conveyance, nor had I a horse or any means of getting to the ranch,
about eighty miles. Judging from the colonel's armed guard and the fact
of travelling at night, it occurred to me that something was wrong, and
on questioning him he told me that he would not take any "chances," that
the Apaches were "out" on the war-path, but that they never attacked in
the dark. This lent more interest to the trip, though it was interesting
enough to me simply to see the nature of the country where we had
decided to make our home. We got through all right. Next morning I hired
a horse and reached the ranch the same day.

As this was to be our country for many years to come, it will be well to
describe its physical features, etc. Arizona, of course, is a huge
territory, some 400 by 350 miles. It embraces pure unadulterated desert
regions in the west; a large forest tract in the centre; the rest has a
semi-arid character, short, scattering grass all over it; to the eye of
a stranger a dreary and desolate region! The east central part, where we
were, has a general elevation of 4000 to 6000 feet above sea-level, so
that the fierce summer heat is tempered to some extent, especially after
sundown. In winter there were snowstorms and severe cold, but the snow
did not lie long, except in the mountains, where it reached a depth of
several feet.

The Little Colorado River (Colorado Chiquito), an affluent of the
Greater River, had its headquarters in the mountains, south of our
ranch. It was a small stream, bright and clear, and full of speckled
trout in its upper part; lower down most of the time dry; at other times
a flood of red muddy water, or a succession of small, shallow pools of a
boggy, quicksandy nature, that ultimately cost us many thousands of
cattle. The western boundary of Arizona is the Big Colorado River.
Where the Santa Fe railroad crosses it at the Needles is one of the
hottest places in North America. In summer the temperature runs up to as
high as 120 degrees Fahr., and I have even heard it asserted to go to
125 degrees in the shade; and I cannot doubt it, as even on our own
ranch the thermometer often recorded 110 degrees; that at an elevation
of 4000 feet, whereas t