and consequently no fresh provisions. A Chinaman served as
steward and cook, and at the ringing of a bell we all went into a
small saloon back of the pilothouse, where the meals were served.
Our party at table on the "Gila" consisted of several unmarried
officers, and several officers with their wives, about eight or
nine in all, and we could have had a merry time enough but for
the awful heat, which destroyed both our good looks and our
tempers. The fare was meagre, of course; fresh biscuit without
butter, very salt boiled beef, and some canned vegetables, which
were poor enough in those days. Pies made from preserved peaches
or plums generally followed this delectable course. Chinamen, as
we all know, can make pies under conditions that would stagger
most chefs. They may have no marble pastry-slab, and the lard may
run like oil, still they can make pies that taste good to the
hungry traveller.

But that dining-room was hot! The metal handles of the knives
were uncomfortably warm to the touch; and even the wooden arms of
the chairs felt as if they were slowly igniting. After a hasty
meal, and a few remarks upon the salt beef, and the general
misery of our lot, we would seek some spot which might be a
trifle cooler. A siesta was out of the question, as the
staterooms were insufferable; and so we dragged out the weary
days.

At sundown the boat put her nose up to the bank and tied up for
the night. The soldiers left the barges and went into camp on
shore, to cook their suppers and to sleep. The banks of the river
offered no very attractive spot upon which to make a camp; they
were low, flat, and covered with underbrush and arrow-weed, which