between us and the river. My nerves gradually recovered from the
tension in which they had been held; the driver stopped his team
for a moment, the other ambulance drove up alongside of us, and
Ella Bailey and I looked at each other; we did not talk any, but
I believe we cried just a little. Then Mr. Bailey and Jack
(thinking we were giving way, I suppose) pulled out their big
flasks, and we had to take a cup of good whiskey, weakened up
with a little water from our canteens, which had been filled at
Walker's ranch in the morning. Great Heavens! I thought, was it
this morning that we left Walker's ranch, or was it a year ago?
So much had I lived through in a few hours.




CHAPTER XV

FORDING THE LITTLE COLORADO

At a bend in the road the Mexican guide galloped up near the
ambulance, and pointing off to the westward with a graceful
gesture, said: "Colorado Chiquito! Colorado Chiquito!" And, sure
enough, there in the afternoon sun lay the narrow winding river,
its surface as smooth as glass, and its banks as if covered with
snow.

We drove straight for the ford, known as Sunset Crossing. The
guide was sure he knew the place. But the river was high, and I
could not see how anybody could cross it without a boat. The
Mexican rode his pony in once or twice; shook his head, and said