ed ourselves.
Cruelly tired, here we were, we two women, compelled to sit on hard
boxes or the edge of a bed, to quiet our poor babies, all through that
night, at that old sheep-ranch. Like the wretched emigrant, differing
only from her inasmuch as she, never having known comfort perhaps,
cannot realize her misery.

The two Lieutenants slipped on their blouses, and sat looking helplessly
at us, waging war on the cats at intervals. And so the dawn found us,
our nerves at a tension, and our strength gone--a poor preparation for
the trying day which was to follow.

We were able to buy a couple of sheep there, to take with us for
supplies, and some antelope meat. We could not indulge, in foolish
scruples, but I tried not to look when they tied the live sheep and
threw them into one of the wagons.

Quite early in the day, we met a man who said he had been fired upon by
some Indians at Sanford's Pass. We thought perhaps he had been scared by
some stray shot, and we did not pay much attention to his story.

Soon after, however, we passed a sort of old adobe ruin, out of which
crept two bare-headed Mexicans, so badly frightened that their dark
faces were pallid; their hair seemed standing on end, and they looked
stark mad with fear. They talked wildly to the guide, and gesticulated,
pointing in the direction of the Pass. They had been fired at, and their
ponies taken by some roving Apaches. They had been in hiding for over
a day, and were hungry and miserable. We gave them food and drink. They
implored us, by the Holy Virgin, not to go through the Pass.

What was to be done? The officers took counsel; the men looked to their
arms. It was decided to go through. Jack examined his revolver, and saw
that my pistol was loaded. I was instructed minutely what to do, in case
we were attacked.

For miles we strained our eyes, looking in the direction whence these
men had come.

At last, in mid-afternoon, we approached the Pass, a narrow defile
winding down between high hills from this table-land to the plain below.
To say that we feared an ambush, would not perhaps convey a very clear
idea of how I felt on entering the Pass.

There was not a word spoken. I obeyed orders, and lay down in the bottom
of the ambulance; I took my derringer out of the holster and cocked it.
I looked at my little boy lying helpless there beside me, and at his
delicate temples, lined with thin blue veins, and wondered if I could
follow out the instruc