some black coffee and ate some rather thick slices of bacon and
dry bread. The Wilkins' tent was near ours, and I said to them,
rather peevishly: "Isn't this dust something awful?"

Miss Wilkins looked up with her sweet smile and gentle manner and
replied: "Why, yes, Mrs. Summerhayes, it is pretty bad, but you
must not worry about such a little thing as dust."

"How can I help it?" I said; "my hair, my clothes, everything
full of it, and no chance for a bath or a change: a miserable
little basin of water and--"

I suppose I was running on with all my grievances, but she
stopped me and said again: "Soon, now, you will not mind it at
all. Ella and I are army girls, you know, and we do not mind
anything. There's no use in fretting about little things."

Miss Wilkins' remarks made a tremendous impression upon my mind
and I began to study her philosophy.

At break of day the command marched out, their rifles on their
shoulders, swaying along ahead of us, in the sunlight and the
heat, which continued still to be almost unendurable. The dry
white dust of this desert country boiled and surged up and around
us in suffocating clouds.

I had my own canteen hung up in the ambulance, but the water in
it got very warm and I learned to take but a swallow at a time,
as it could not be refilled until we reached the next spring--and
there is always some uncertainty in Arizona as to whether the