I Wanted To Say More, But Faye Suddenly Left The Room.
The post is not at all as you and I had imagined it to be.
There is no
high wall around it as there is at Fort Trumbull. It reminds one of a
prim little village built around a square, in the center of which is a
high flagstaff and a big cannon. The buildings are very low and broad
and are made of adobe - a kind of clay and mud mixed together - and the
walls are very thick. At every window are heavy wooden shutters, that
can be closed during severe sand and wind storms. A little ditch - they
call it acequia - runs all around the post, and brings water to the
trees and lawns, but water for use in the houses is brought up in
wagons from the Arkansas River, and is kept in barrels.
Yesterday morning - our first here - we were awakened by the sounds of
fife and drum that became louder and louder, until finally I thought
the whole Army must be marching to the house. I stumbled over
everything in the room in my haste to get to one of the little dormer
windows, but there was nothing to be seen, as it was still quite dark.
The drumming became less loud, and then ceased altogether, when a big
gun was fired that must have wasted any amount of powder, for it shook
the house and made all the windows rattle. Then three or four bugles
played a little air, which it was impossible to hear because of the
horrible howling and crying of dogs - such howls of misery you never
heard - they made me shiver.
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