in Spanish, "there was much quicksand. The old ford had changed
much since he saw it." He galloped excitedly to and fro, along
the bank of the river, always returning to the same place, and
declaring "it was the ford; there was no other; he knew it well."

But the wagons not having yet arrived, it was decided not to
attempt crossing until morning, when we could get a fresh start.

The sun was gradually sinking in the west, but the heat down in
that alkali river-bottom even at that early season of the year
was most uncomfortable. I was worn out with fright and fatigue;
my poor child cried piteously and incessantly. Nothing was of any
avail to soothe him. After the tents were pitched and the
camp-fires made, some warm water was brought, and I tried to wash
away some of the dust from him, but the alkali water only
irritated his delicate skin, and his head, where it had lain on
my arm, was inflamed by the constant rubbing. It began to break
out in ugly blisters; I was in despair. We were about as
wretchedly off as two human beings could be, and live, it seemed
to me. The disappointment at not getting across the river,
combined with the fear that the Indians were still in the
neighborhood, added to my nervousness and produced an exhaustion
which, under other circumstances, would have meant collapse.

The mournful and demoniacal cries of the coyotes filled the
night; they seemed to come close to the tent, and their number
seemed to be legion. I lay with eyes wide open, watching for the
day to come, and resolving each minute that if I ever escaped
alive from that lonely river-bottom with its burning alkali, and
its millions of howling coyotes, I would never, never risk being