ACROSS THE MOGOLLONS

It was a fine afternoon in the latter part of September, when our
small detachment, with Captain Ogilby in command, marched out of
Camp Verde. There were two companies of soldiers, numbering
about a hundred men in all, five or six officers, Mrs. Bailey and
myself, and a couple of laundresses. I cannot say that we were
gay. Mrs. Bailey had said good-bye to her father and mother and
sister at Fort Whipple, and although she was an army girl, she
did not seem to bear the parting very philosophically. Her young
child, nine months old, was with her, and her husband, as
stalwart and handsome an officer as ever wore shoulder-straps.
But we were facing unknown dangers, in a far country, away from
mother, father, sister and brother--a country infested with
roving bands of the most cruel tribe ever known, who tortured
before they killed. We could not even pretend to be gay.

The travelling was very difficult and rough, and both men and
animals were worn out by night. But we were now in the mountains,
the air was cool and pleasant, and the nights so cold that we
were glad to have a small stove in our tents to dress by in the
mornings. The scenery was wild and grand; in fact, beyond all
that I had ever dreamed of; more than that, it seemed so untrod,
so fresh, somehow, and I do not suppose that even now, in the day
of railroads and tourists, many people have had the view of the
Tonto Basin which we had one day from the top of the Mogollon
range.

I remember thinking, as we alighted from our ambulances and stood
looking over into the Basin, "Surely I have never seen anything