in a cage, and I was fascinated by the horror of the round,
grayish-looking heap, so near the color of the sand on which it
lay. Some soldiers came and killed it. But I noticed that Bowen
took extra pains that night, to spread buffalo robes under our
mattresses, and to place around them a hair lariat. "Snakes won't
cross over that," he said, with a grin.

Bowen was a character. Originally from some farm in Vermont, he
had served some years with the Eighth Infantry, and for a long
time in the same company under Major Worth, and had cooked for
the bachelors' mess. He was very tall, and had a good-natured
face, but he did not have much opinion of what is known as
etiquette, either military or civil; he seemed to consider
himself a sort of protector to the officers of Company K, and
now, as well, to the woman who had joined the company. He took us
all under his wing, as it were, and although he had to be sharply
reprimanded sometimes, in a kind of language which he seemed to
expect, he was allowed more latitude than most soldiers.

This was my first night under canvas in the army. I did not like
those desert places, and they grew to have a horror for me.

At four o'clock in the morning the cook's call sounded, the mules
were fed, and the crunching and the braying were something to
awaken the heaviest sleepers. Bowen called us. I was much upset
by the dreadful dust, which was thick upon everything I touched.
We had to hasten our toilet, as they were striking tents and
breaking camp early, in order to reach before noon the next place
where there was water. Sitting on camp-stools, around the
mess-tables, in the open, before the break of day, we swallowed