it at the time, but it gets cl'arer as the days drifts by.

"'I'm never in a more desolate stretch of what would be timber only
thar ain't no trees. Thar's nothin' for the mules an' hosses; half the
time thar ain't even water. An' then it's alkali. An' our days teems
an' staggers with disgustin' experiences. Once we're shy water two
days. It's the third day about fourth drink time in the evenin'. The
sun has two hours yet to go. My battery is toilin' along, sand to the
hubs of gun-carriages an' caissons, when I sees the mules p'int their
y'ears for'ard with looks of happy surprise. Then the intelligent
anamiles begins a song of praise; an' next while we-all is marvellin'
thereat an' before ever a gent can stretch hand to bridle to stop 'em,
the mules begins to fly. They yanks my field pieces over the desert as
busy an' full of patriotic ardour as a drunkard on 'lection day. The
whole battery runs away. Gents, the mules smells water. It's two
miles away,--a big pond she is,--an' that locoed battery never stops,
but rushes plumb in over its y'ears; an' I lose sixteen mules an' two
guns before ever I'm safe ag'in on terry firmy.

"'It's shore remarkable,' exclaims the Major, settin' down his glass,
'how time softens the view an' changes bitter to sweet that a-way. As
I brings before me in review said details thar's nothin' more harassin'
from soda to hock than that campaign on the Rio Grande. Thar's not one
ray of sunshine to paint a streak of gold in the picture from frame to
frame; all is dark an' gloom an' death. An' yet, lookin' back'ard
through the years, the mem'ry of it is pleasant an' refreshing a heap
more so than enterprises of greater ease with success instead of
failure for the finish.

"'Thar's one partic'lar incident of this explorin' expeditions into Noo